UPDATE ON JACKIE CORNER: There’s a really good reason why  Friends and Fans of Jackie Connor are rushing with a petition to rename First Street and Seventh Avenue Jackie’s Connor’s Corner: The City Council only accepts petitions for this kind of thing twice a year and the March 31 deadline is approaching.

Friends and Fans has a bio written and they have been assured that they have enough signatures for approval.  The steps in this process require Community Board 6, the City Council, and the Department of Transportation to sign off on dedicating the Corner. They all knew Jackie," writes Fonda Sara. "So really it is a no-brainer."

The corner of Seventh Avenue and Sterling is similarly marked: "Ed Rogowsky’s Way.” According to Fonda, "Ed was a city planner/Brooklyn advocate who came from the same "school" as Jackie."

FROM WEDNESDAY: How do you memorialize a remarkable person who spent her life advocating on behalf of the people and streets of Park Slope. NAME A STREET AFTER HER.  Already friends and fans of Jackie Connor are on it — taking their inspiration from Jackie, who always knew how to get things done.

Sign a petition to re-name the corner of Carroll Street and Seventh Avenue:
"Jackie Connor’s Corner"

This petition will be presented on Thursday evening to the Transportation Committee of Community Board 6.

Add your name
to support this petition: There is one hanging in the front entrance of PS 321.  You can also go to Bob and Judy’s Coolectibles on Fifth Avenue
between Union & President or Zuzus Petals on Fifth Avenue between 5th
& 6th Streets.

I took a spill yesterday. Some of the key words and phrases in this story are: Starbucks. Bay Ridge. Spilled latte. Twisted ankle

After a parent-teacher conference at my son’s high school, Teen Spirit and I walked over to a Starbucks at Third Avenue and Bay Ridge Parkway.  He ordered an apple fritter and I had some kind of flavored latte.

We decided to take a car service home, so we waited in the Starbucks for our Eastern Car Service car. We thought we saw the car from the window and left the Starbucks through a glass- covered sidewalk cafe area of this Starbucks. I wasn’t even sure if there was an entrance/exit in this area, but we pushed one of the doors and it opened.

Next thing I know I am falling…I didn’t see a step and I am flying out as is my coffee cup. I spill latte all over my  brown down coat, which I was holding in my arms. I land on the sidewalk.

I do remember the feeling: I’m falling and there’s nothing I can do about this. There was a calm about it: I was resigned to it — there was no avoiding it — I am going down

"Mom, are you alright?" my son asked. He reached out his hand to me, but I decided to stay seated on the sidewalk. He picked up my coat off the sidewalk; it was covered in latte. A nice man came over at which point I started crying. "Can I help you," he said. Do you need any help?"

"No, that’s okay I have my son," and I did feel a grateful sensation that my son was there and I could just sit on the sidewalk and cry.

Seconds later I was standing. Another nice man came over. "If you just spilled your coffee you can go back inside and get another." He wasn’t a Starbucks employee. I thanked the man but declined.  We waited on the windy corner for our car.

Getting into the car I joked, "Maybe we should sue Starbucks." My son smiled in agreement. We rode home looking at the top of my foot, which was starting to swell. There was also a cut on my knee.

When moms fall apart in front of their children, there is a momentary realignment of roles. Teen Spirit had to help me up, hold my coat, make sure I was okay. I could tell he was unsettled by the event. The weird realization that mother’s cry: we experience pain, we can embarass the hell out of our children by crying on the street, our ankles can twist, we can fall.

We are human and our children must be strong. And he was. Yes, even moms fall apart and whimper all the way down Third Avenue to Park Slope feeling stupid, feeling pain, needing a Band Aid for my knee and a bandage for my foot..

We are human and our children must be strong. Sometimes.

Thanks to A Brooklyn Life, I just learned that Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, one of the big indie bands du jour, got its name off a wall near the Gowanus Canal. A Brooklyn Life found the story at the Tucson Sun.

On the way to their first gig, they were driving through Brooklyn, near the Gowanus Canal, and saw the phrase "Clap Your Hands Say Yeah" written on a wall in 6-foot-high letters. Not graffiti letters, but normal-looking letters, which seemed strange. They needed a name, and the phrase seemed appropriate. After playing together for a few months, the band recorded a self-titled album, and released it themselves.

READ MORE AT A BROOKLYN LIFE

A site called three layer cake has an interview with Park Slope’s own Grace Bonney of Design Sponge.

The multiple daily posts on design*sponge,
as effervescent and sunny as they may be, pale in comparison to the
real live woman who writes them.  Grace Bonney, a Virginia-native
living in Brooklyn, is the voice behind the design blog which attracts
over 12,000 readers a day.  Now that she’s on her own, she has the
potential to go even farther.

Grace is extremely articulate and focused.  She has very clear ideas
about what she likes and dislikes and makes no bones about it.  That’s
not to say she’s brash—she’s the exact opposite, but even with her
demure demeanor (Southern like her accent), she makes her opinion heard
and respected.  She grew up in Virginia Beach, graduated from William
and Mary in Colonial Williamsburg with a degree in art and art history
and for the past two and a half years worked full time at a record
label and as an assistant at a Brooklyn PR firm that handled large
design accounts like Vitra. Working so closely with the design
community, Bonney rekindled her passion for interior and product design
and, as of March 6, she’s a ‘minipreneur’, running her own design website and working as a freelance design writer and consultant for various national publications….READ MORE AT three layer cake

A rave in the New York Times about Kate Valk and the Wooster Group’s "Emperor Jones"at St. Ann’s Warehouse.

A performance of much more recent vintage has inspired similar
effusions among a certain subset of New York theatergoers. Mingling at
an art opening or lounging in a club on the Lower East Side, some among
you may have been subjected to a harangue, delivered through a smug fog
of cigarette smoke, on the strange glory of Kate Valk in the Wooster
Group’s acclaimed production of "The Emperor Jones," in the latter days
of the last century.

Alas for these downtown hipsters and their
velvet ropes, this performance has not conveniently retreated into the
V.I.P. room of theater legend, never to re-emerge. The Wooster Group
production of "Emperor Jones" is back onstage at St. Ann’s Warehouse in
Brooklyn, and there, at its center, is Ms. Valk again, riveting,
haunting, altogether astonishing.

She is attired in
tatterdemalion regalia befitting a legend-in-the-making, in a
voluminous garment that resembles a cheapo king’s costume arrested in
the process of swallowing a kimono. But the oddity of this ensemble may
take a while to register, since the most arresting aspect of Ms. Valk’s
aspect is the thick, oily black makeup covering her entire face. The
petite, Caucasian, obviously female Ms. Valk is playing the title role,
Brutus Jones, a venal black train porter turned despot, in O’Neill’s
hypnotic play about the destructive impact of history on the shaping of
personality. And she is playing it in blackface.

These words were on a laminated wake card given out at Jackie Connor’s memorial. I believe they were written by Dr. Annette Hall of St. Francis Xavier School.

Jackie Connor was an advocate for the poor, the homeless, the underpaid, the tenant, the senior citizen, the child, and the teenager. For us who knew her, Jackie was the one you called for to help you spread the news about an injustice or something that needed fixing or taking care of. She believed in solving problems through the system. She had a strong voice, which was backed by her actions. She argued for fair rent for tenants, marched to keep youth programs open, attended school hearings and join committees to imporve public schools. Jackie was relentless in her efforts to make life better for those in need. Thos who disagreed with her had a formidable opponenet. She was an advocate who people respected. Government officials knew Jackie, the police officers on the beat adored her, and the store owners appreciated her wisdom. Her neighbors loved and respected her. Jackie will be missed, but what she has done for other people will be remembered. Her energy, drive, and caring will be the force in their hearts to help them carry on.

The Oh So Feisty One (OSFO) has been talking about getting her ears pierced since her last birthday. Somehow it was decided that she would get them pierced at The Treasure Chest in Park Slope the morning of her 9th birthday. Then it was decided that she would get them pierced the day before her 9th birthday. Then it was decided that she would get them pierced the weekend before her 9th birthday.

And that’s what happened.

The week before she kept saying: Shouldn’t we go in and make an appointment, shouldn’t we go in and tell them that we’re coming on Saturday. Shouldn’t we tell them…

I did go in a few days before and was told by someone working there that the person who pierces ears is in on Saturday and we wouldn’t need an appointment.

On Saturday we showed up at 10 a.m. and the same woman said, "So do you have an appointment?"

Okay. "The guy doesn’t get in until noon," she said. "But I can see if he’ll come in." The ear piercing guy showed up about an hour later – -and we amused ourselves at the PS 321 Winter Carnival.

We went back to the store and still had to wait for the ear piercing guy. He’s a young guy. Very young. i think he may be the son of the owner. He works very quickly. He got his tools – a drill-like thing – and asked OSFO to sit on a chair in the middle of the small shop.

He then positioned the drill-like thing and MAGIC ear 1 was done. He then looked at both ears like an artist trying to position the other hole. And MAGIC ear 2 was done.

I forgot to mention, in the time we were waiting, OSFO picked out pretty gold stud earrings with a red stone.

The guy told us to put Bacitracin on her ears 3-4 times a day. AND she must not take the earrings out for six weeks.

OSFO just loves to put her hair behind her ears so everyone can see that SHE HAS PIERCED EARS!!!!

A reader just sent me this note with a link to her blog , which is called Blah Blah Babycakes, where she posted my DUMBO piece from The Brooklyn Papers.  I told her I was thrilled.  She also thinks it was her nanny I was talking to in the Pirate Playground.

I wanted to write to tell you how much I enjoyed your piece on Dumbo moms.  It was funny and my husband and I had a good laugh.  I’ve posted a link and because it was a pdf actually pasted the text on my blog and I just wanted to let you know in case it was illegal, rude or breaking a blog rule. 

LIVE THERE? YOU’D HAVE TO BE  A DUMBO   by Louise Crawford

A BROKEN CLOCK is right twice a day, so when Dumb Editor asked Smartmom to look into the sudden influx of new moms in industrial DUMBO, Smartmom blew him off. But Dumb Editor persisted. “I can’t think of anyone better to investigate the phenomenon than you,” he said, buttering her up like a scone at Connecticut Muffin. “After all, these new moms are are you 15 years ago.” How old does he think Smartmom is? But Dumb Editor had a point. Smartmom was pushing Teen Spirit in a Combi stroller when Park Slope, like DUMBO now, was experiencing its first baby boom.

So Smartmom changed out of her schleppy Park Slope uniform (PS 321 Tshirt, black stretch pants), donned her snazziest jeans and leather jacket (so as to blend in with the DUMBO crowd) and took a car service to the Pirate Playground,located on the banks of the East River. With its views of the Brooklyn Bridge and lower Manhattan, it is, arguably, the most spectacular set of monkey bars in the world.

Ever the urban anthropologist,Smartmom was eager to eavesdrop on DUMBO moms. Were their conversations like those in Park Slope, where the playground chatter seems to revolve around Food Coop suspensions, missed real-estate opportunities, or early intervention programs? Or did they whine about their art dealers? Smartmom discreetly sidled up to a couple of moms who were talking intensely while watching their sons play. But it turns out that DUMBO is the worst possible neighborhood for eavesdropping.

The traffic and subway on the Manhattan Bridge overwhelms the entire area, making the playground way too noisy for subtle surveillance. “How do you like living here?” Smartmom asked one of the moms, who was chicly dressed in a suede jacket, tight suede pants and Ugg Boots. Smartmom really wanted to ask how the heck they get their babies to nap, given the constant ruckus. Ugg Mom looked suspicious, but soon warmed to the idea of her 15-minutes of fame. “Oh I love it. Just love
it,” she said. “It’s so urban, so much more like Manhattan than Park Slope or Brooklyn Heights. There’s a great sense of community here.” Smartmom ran after Ugg Mom and asked her if there’s much to do with kids around here. “Tons.  There’s tons to do. It’s a fantastic, family-oriented neighborhood.” Then she shooed Smartmom away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to talk to my friend.” Manhattan, indeed.

Nearby were two Caribbean nannies, so Smartmom chatted them up.  “I hate this neighborhood,” said one, as she rocked a bright orange Bugaboo.  “It’s so boring,” the other one added. They seemed eager to share the winter of their discontent.  “There’s nothing to do, especially in the cold,” said the first. “No bookstore, no indoor play space, no Barnes & Noble. There’s nowhere to take the children.” SMARTMOM found another mom who was watching her son in the row-boat sandbox. A Q-train crossed the bridge overhead.  “DO YOU FIND IT NOISY HERE?” Smartmom screamed. “It’s not too bad,” the woman said, clearly too deaf to notice anymore.

After the playground, Smartmom was eager to check out Pomme, a wildly pretentious French children’s store. Children’s store? It looked more like the Whitney Biennial! Smartmom watched as a hip-looking local mom charged more than $200 on a credit card for extravagant birthday party gifts, while speaking French with the owner. IGNORING HER (who has time to speak French these days?), Smartmom occupied herself with the store’s publicity postcard: “Pomme is smitten with childhood; imaginary friends and security blankets. Sidewalk chalk, smocks, kneehigh socks.” Pretentious? Mais bien sur. But then again, the prices for cashmere sweaters, black under-wear sets, and French toys matched the shop’s inflated view of itself. Next, Smartmom walked past 70 Washington St., David Walentas’s condo, where lofts are selling for millions.

Around the corner at Foragers, a new Dean and DeLuca-style grocery, young mothers stocked up on expensive porcini mushrooms and hydroponic pommelos. It looked like a Manhattan version of the Park Slope Coop — without the low prices, neighborly co-workers and social consciousness. On Front Street, Smartmom peered into the window of a gigantic showroom for Thermador, Bosch and Gaggenau appliances: all the designer gadgets you need to perfectly equip the kind of huge loft kitchen that you never plan to use.

Nearby, a young mom struggled with a tantrum throwing toddler and a double-stroller on the bumpy cobblestone streets. “Do you need some help?” Smartmom asked, perhaps  with a note of condescension.  “No thanks,” Supermom said. But Smartmom persisted, asking how she puts up with the inconveniences of living in a still-industrial area. “What inconveniences?” Supermom said, completely mystified. Um, the cobblestones, the noise, the trucks. “Oh that,” Supermom said. “But we don’t hear anything once we’re upstairs.”

Finally, it was time for that expense account lunch at Bubby’s, the place to see and be seen among the Dumbo babyrati.  Like its sister restaurant in Tribeca, Bubby’s is an oasis of comfort food and thriftshop style. The large, two level space with Manhattan views was busy with tables of moms and kids. This is no place for Mr. Stroller Manifesto of Park Slope, but a perfect spot for a Bloody Mary and a midday repast.

Smartmom thought about what Dumb Editor had said:  Are all these moms the 2006 version of Smartmom, circa 1990? Well, just like the DUMBO moms, Smartmom and Hepcat left Manhattan when Teen Spirit was born, in search of a big apartment, a nearby playground, and a fairly quick commute to jobs in Manhattan.  But unlike these moms, Smartmom wasn’t nearly as well dressed. And she and Hepcat couldn’t afford to buy a luxury loft (then or now), furnish their kitchen with fancy European appliances, or dress Teen Spirit in French cashmere onesies. Back then, they lived in a fourth-floor walk-up on Fifth Street, which had a teeny tiny view of the harbor. From their living room, the Statue of Liberty looked like one of those plastic souvenirs you get at the South Ferry subway station. BUT SMARTMOM and Hepcat were happy.  There was a laundromat across the street, the Third Street Playground was close by, one of the best public schools in the city was just blocks away and Two Boots Restaurant had (and still has) the best pizza, and the most good-natured waiters in town.

Park Slope of old may not have been as “fabulous” as DUMBO — but it was definitely quieter and cheaper.  And it was home. You know what Dorothy said: there’s no place like it.

For those of you who couldn’t make it to Jackie Connor’s memorial at St. Francis Xavier School on Sunday night, here is the program. If you have any Jackie memories to share, post them as comments. I will send to her daughter for the scrapbook.

Thank you for coming to this celebration of Jackie Connor’s life.

She  died March 7 after fighting lung cancer with the same tenacity, honesty and humor she used to battle somany problmes in the community.

Some of us knew Jackie as a remarkable wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, cousin and friend.

To others, she was simply the "Mayor of Seventh Avenue" or "the lady on the church steps," the person you went to for help, advice, or just a good story.

Those steps seem a lot emptier now, but we’re comforted by the knowledge that so many people can’t pass the corner of Seventh Avenue and Carroll Stret without remembering all the good she did and the hell she raised.

We invite you to share some of those memories at tonight’s celebration

After a welcome from her family and some doo wop music, you can take microphone and tell a favorite story about Jackie, write down your thought for our scrapbook or post a photo.

And when you leave here tonight, we hope you’ll take up Jackie’s fight to make Park Slope, Brooklyn, and the world a better place. She may not be sitting on the church steps any longer, but we’re pretyy sure she’s keeping an eye on everyone.

The NYC crime rate is the lowest it’s been in years. But the coverage of the brutal murder of Immette Saint Guillen is freaking me out. Even in a safe city: hideous, hideous things can happen.

Such brutality, such cruelty. There was this piece on WNYC about how people deal with the issue of late-night safety in our so-called safe city.

WNYC’s Dan Blumberg spent a night out asking people how they get home safely.

There was no one answer. Everyone has a different comfort level when it comes to walking the streets or taking the subway late night. And late night doesn’t begin at the same time for everyone either. For NYU graduate student Faye Hanlin, late starts pretty early.

HANLIN: Pretty much after dark I don’t take the subway. It’s just not worth the risk. I’m lazy, but it’s also just not worth the risk.

REPORTER: Faye, who grew up in Park Slope and now lives on the Upper East Side, says she also checks in with her friends before she goes to bed.

HANLIN: I definitely do the buddy system kind of thing when we go out. And after we go out I’ll call or text or whatever and say did you get home? And we definitely do that because we all go our separate ways at the end of the night and you never know.

REPORTER: Faye also occasionally carries mace, won’t get into a cab that isn’t yellow, and always has her keys out and ready when she gets out of her taxi. Her vigilance ranked high. Sienna Ferris was closer to the other end of the spectrum.

FERRIS: I don’t really ever feel unsafe in the city. I know it sounds strange, but there are usually so many people in the street that I could just yell.

REPORTER: Hanging out with friends at Gaslight on West 14th Street she said she takes cabs to get home to the East Village late at night, but not because she feels unsafe on the subway.

FERRIS: The subway takes too long at night… the L train, … when I first moved to the city I took the train, now that I make money – I mean I’m not rich – I take the cab… I don’t feel like waiting.

REPORTER: Sienna hardly sounds like she feels invincible– but she does worry about a friend who she thinks is a little overconfident.

FERRIS: I do have a friend who’s here somewhere and she walks home a lot and I get very worried about her, cuz she gets wasted.

REPORTER: Sienna’s friend is Aviva bat Avraham v’Sarah — a muscular black woman with a tongue ring, wearing a white tank top. She’s doesn’t worry about going out by herself because she considers New York to be so much safer than her hometown of Dallas.

AVIVA: I am very secure in my method of getting home and I have honest to god ….touch wood… never been accosted or anything like that… and I will walk home drunk like nobody’s business and I live off of Christopher Street so I’ll have crack dealers like follow me home and all kinds of s—t but nothing bad has ever happened.

REPORTER: Immette Saint Guillen was also apparently drunk and alone on the night that she was killed and there has been criticism of her for that. Walking home alone wasted is not exactly something the police department encourages people to do, but at the same time, crimes like the rape and murder of Saint Guillen are NOT the norm. It’s true that most murders happen at night – 78% of the 540 murders last year occurred between 8pm and 4am – but 82% of the victims were male. Usually, drugs are a factor, the victim knows his or her killer and both have criminal records. And when it comes to rape, so called stranger rape is by far the least frequent type.

Still, some night owls, like Liz from Staten Island, says there’s safety in numbers.

LIZ: We never go out by ourselves, that’s just stupid.

REPORTER: Why is it stupid?

LIZ: With the recent events on the news and everything it’s just not safe to be out by yourself.

REPORTER: NYU graduate student Annie Nichols says she also tries to stay with a group and she won’t take the subway after midnight. But what her guy friends?

NICHOLS: My guy friends, hahaha, that’s a whole ‘nother story… are probably not as cautious. They may take a cab, but they won’t necessarily take a cab all the way to their door and may end up wandering around…

REPORTER: Williamsburg producer Adrien Lie doesn’t mind taking the subway late or walking around at night.

LIE: My neighborhood is pretty safe. There actually was a mugging there a couple months ago, but I can take care of myself. It’s not like a boastful thing, but it’s you know I’ve never been mugged I’ve never encountered anything. I think New York is pretty safe.

REPORTER: Saskya Fonsugaten might agree with Adrien, but as she waited at the West Fourth St. station a little before midnight—her plan to get home seemed a little hazy.

FONSUGATEN: I don’t even know if I can take this train

REPORTER: As an E train pulled into the station, the foreign exchange student from Berlin who’s only been in the states for a few weeks said she stayed out a later than she’d planned and now had a long trip home.

FONSUGATEN: Actually I’m a little scared since I have to go all the way to Far Rockaway. I’m not looking forward to travel at that length late at night, but I have to… I don’t know.

REPORTER: Eventually an A train arrived to take Saskya on a long local stops journey home.

For WNYC, I’m Dan Blumberg

A memorial service for Jackie Connor was held on Sunday evening at 5 p.m. at the St. Francis Xavier School auditorium. Many relatives, friends, neighbors, merchants, cops, garbagemen, school administrators and politicians were there. Maybe 150 or more.

There was Doo Wop music, speeches by her daughter, her brother, her husband, and anyone else who was moved to speak. Lots of food, dessert, and coffee.

I interviewed a lot of people and took notes on all the speeches and am writing a piece for this Friday’s Brooklyn Papers.

I was very moved by all of it and left with the feeling that this energetic, gutsy, caring, and selfless woman was responsible for a lot of good things in Park Slope. As David Yasky said, "I don’t think Park Slopers realize how much Jackie Connor did for this community."

Stay tuned for more about Jackie Connor. I am wondering what the neighborhood is going to do to memorialize her. I think there should be a bronze statue of her on the corner of Carroll  Street and Seventh Avenue – sitting on the stone fence at the Old First Church.

That would really be an appropriate memorial.

THERE ARE many Purim celebrations going on in Park Slope this weekend (Check Scoop du Weekend below). The following information is from Judaism 101:

It is customary to hold carnival-like celebrations on Purim, to perform
plays and parodies, and to hold beauty contests. I have heard that the
usual prohibitions against cross-dressing are lifted during this
holiday, but I am not certain about that. Americans sometimes refer to
Purim as the Jewish Mardi Gras.

Purim is one of the most joyous and fun holidays on the Jewish calendar. It commemorates a time when the Jewish people living in Persia were saved from extermination.

The story of Purim is told in the Biblical book of Esther. The heroes of the story are Esther, a beautiful young Jewish woman living in Persia, and her cousin Mordecai, who raised her as if she were his daughter. Esther was taken to the house of Ahasuerus, King of Persia, to become part of his harem. King Ahasuerus loved Esther more than his other women and made Esther queen, but the king did not know that Esther was a Jew, because Mordecai told her not to reveal her identity.

The villain of the story is Haman, an arrogant, egotistical advisor to the king. Haman hated Mordecai because Mordecai refused to bow down to Haman, so Haman plotted to destroy the Jewish people. In a speech that is all too familiar to Jews, Haman told the king, "There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of your realm. Their laws are different from those of every other people’s, and they do not observe the king’s laws; therefore it is not befitting the king to tolerate them." Esther 3:8. The king gave the fate of the Jewish people to Haman, to do as he pleased to them. Haman planned to exterminate all of the Jews.

Mordecai persuaded Esther to speak to the king on behalf of the Jewish people. This was a dangerous thing for Esther to do, because anyone who came into the king’s presence without being summoned could be put to death, and she had not been summoned. Esther fasted for three days to prepare herself, then went into the king. He welcomed her. Later, she told him of Haman’s plot against her people. The Jewish people were saved, and Haman was hanged on the gallows that had been prepared for Mordecai.

The book of Esther is unusual in that it is the only book of the Bible that does not contain the name of G-d. In fact, it includes virtually no reference to G-d. Mordecai makes a vague reference to the fact that the Jews will be saved by someone else, if not by Esther, but that is the closest the book comes to mentioning G-d. Thus, one important message that can be gained from the story is that G-d often works in ways that are not apparent, in ways that appear to be chance, coincidence or ordinary good luck.

Purim is celebrated on the 14th day of Adar, which is usually in March. The 13th of Adar is the day that Haman chose for the extermination of the Jews, and the day that the Jews battled their enemies for their lives. On the day afterwards, the 14th, they celebrated their survival. In cities that were walled in the time of Joshua, Purim is celebrated on the 15th of the month, because the book of Esther says that in Shushan (a walled city), deliverance from the massacre was not complete until the next day. The 15th is referred to as Shushan Purim.

The word "Purim" means "lots" and refers to the lottery that Haman used to choose the date for the massacre.

The Purim holiday is preceded by a minor fast, the Fast of Esther, which commemorates Esther’s three days of fasting in preparation for her meeting with the king.

The primary commandment related to Purim is to hear the reading of the book of Esther. The book of Esther is commonly known as the Megillah, which means scroll.

We are also commanded to eat, drink and be merry. According to the Talmud, a person is required to drink until he cannot tell the difference between "cursed be Haman" and "blessed be Mordecai," though opinions differ as to exactly how drunk that is. A person certainly should not become so drunk that he might violate other commandments or get seriously ill. In addition, recovering alcoholics or others who might suffer serious harm from alcohol are exempt from this obligation.

In addition, we are commanded to send out gifts of food or drink, and to make gifts to charity. The sending of gifts of food and drink is referred to as shalach manos (lit. sending out portions). Among Ashkenazic Jews, a common treat at this time of year is hamentaschen (lit. Haman’s pockets). These triangular fruit-filled cookies are supposed to represent Haman’s three-cornered hat. My recipe is included below.

I was googling the name of a friend I went to high school with and came across news of an anti-war  concert on March 20th. It’s quite a line up and an excellent cause. Here’s the information:

VETERANS FOR PEACE
Veterans Working Together for Peace & Justice Through Non-violence. Wage Peace!
"Bring ‘Em Home Now!" Concert for Peace on March 20, 2006!

MICHAEL STIPE of R.E.M.

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT

BRIGHT EYES

FISCHERSPOONER

PEACHES

DEVENDRA BANHART

STEVE EARLE
& special guests

CINDY SHEEHAN

& CHUCK D of PUBLIC ENEMY

at the Hammerstein Ballroom to commemorate three years of War in Iraq.

Proceeds will be donated to Veterans For Peace and Iraq Veterans Against the War.

A LIMITED BLOCK OF ADVANCE TICKETS ARE AVAILABLE AT 10% DISCOUNT at Ticketmaster.com or by calling (212) 307-7171. Use code "PEACENOW".

Tickets are priced at $28, $35 and $150 VIP (including Meet & Greet with Cindy Sheehan and Peaches, open vodka bar and reserved balcony seating).

Doors open at 7pm, show at 8pm.

Presented by Josh Wood & Chris Wangro, in Association with The New Press and NY, America.

Hepcat and OTBKB had dinner at LITTLE DISHES. It’s a great place to have in the  neighborhood — a real keeper. Even if you do have to wait an hour to get a table.

We were okay with that because we enjoyed talking to the bartender, ordering Proseco, planning our meal, getting recomendations from the bartender, and talking to each other.

When we sat down — the service was EXCELLENT. We ordered right away. Bread, olives, water arrived IMMEDIATELY.

Our Little Dishes came quickly and they are the NAME OF THE GAME over there. Hepcat had a mushroom soup that was INCREDIBLE. OTBKB had a WARM MUSHROOM SALAD, which may be their SIGNATURE DISH

Hepcat loves lamb, that’s just something you have to know about him. He cooks it and ALWAYS orders it at restaurants. He read about Little Dishes’s lamb shank in the NY Times and he was good to go.

From table to table, everyone was eating LAMB SHANK WITH SPAETZLE. It comes in a bowl and it is QUITE SAVORY. The SPAETZLE with BLACK OLIVES WAS YUM, YUM, YUM.

The lamb was cooked a long time, very moist, came right off the bone, fun to eat. Hepcat liked it.

We had Proseco and Razor Edge Shiraz, a teriffic wine. 2 glasses of each. Woo hoo.

With its  brick walls, Thonet chairs, light wood bar, low lighting, the place is a pleasure to be. Staff: Excellent. The Maitre’D is the owner, her husband is in the kitchen…

COOKING UP A STORM. Small Dishes – We Like You A Lot and WILL BE BACK…

Dope on the Slope, is a blog that describes itself as chronicling the Brooklynization of two Tennessee Hillbillies.

This week they’ve got great photos and some interesting dope:

–News that Europa Cleaners, on Sixth Avenue between Union and President is closing. I happen to know the owners of that building and will report back what’s going on.

–Pix of two pigeons dubbed "The Pigeon Sisters" who hang out at the Flea Market

–Funny story about a "garish saffron gown was perched on a dress model outside of a frou-frou fashion store in Park Slope."

Continue reading DOPE ON THE SLOPE →

Maybe two months ago I was walking past the PS 321 flea market at dusk and saw two lecterns on the sidewalk lined up to be loaded onto a van.

I’ve actually been in the market for a lectern for a long time. And these were special. They had a vaguely "arts and crafts" feeling to them. Clearly hand-made, I could imagine them in a church somewhere, a preacher’s foot perched on one of the cross bars. It had character, and lots of it.

Those lecterns had history and spirit all over them and I wanted one or both.

I needed a lectern for Brooklyn Reading Works (and I wanted to give it to The Old Stone house for their other activities, too).

Because we didn’t have a lectern, we usually set up a table and a chair and offer writers the option of reading while sitting down, with their papers or books on the table. But it it’s a little awkward. Most of the writers choose to stand and read.

I also want a dictionary stand to keep at home or in the office. Since I am constantly checking the dictionary I thought it would be helpful to have it out and open all the time.

While I was pondering my need for a lectern, a man lifted one of the lecterns and started loading it into the van. I asked him how much he wanted for the lecterns and he said $75 dollars each. I immediately knew it was a good price so I checked my wallet. Unfortunately I only had $25 dollars in there.

"Can I write a check?" I asked.
"Don’t take checks," he said.

Sunny is the man’s name. He’s the guy who sells metal file cabinets, desks, and cabinets, who usually sets up to the left of the PS 321 entrance.

I asked him if it would be alright to give him $25 dollars now and to pay him later in the week or next weekend. He thought for a moment and after a little hesitation said that would be fine. We exchanged phone numbers.

He never called and I lost his number, which I had written with a bad pen on a faded receipt, which I probably threw out by mistake.

EVERY SATURDAY since then I have gone by the flea market to find Sunny and he hasn’t been there. Sometimes I ask other vendors, "Have you seen Sunny?" Yesterday I asked Fred, who runs the flea market what happened to Sunny and he said he was working his day job on Saturdays for the last few months and probably wouldn’t be back until April or May. I asked Fred to tell Sunny that I’ve been looking for him…

"Tell him the woman who bought the lectern wants to give him his $50 dollars." I said.

"Sunny is a trusting guy and I guess he knew you were trustworthy. Take off your sunglasses, let me look in your eyes." Fred said.

I took off my sunglasses.
"Aaaaah. You have very honest eyes," he said.

"Yes, I am ridiculously honest," I said not sure what I meant.

"You can’t be too honest," Fred said. "It’s the most important thing in the world. "Obviously Sunny knew you could be trusted."

"Well tell Sunny that I want to pay him AND I want to buy the other lectern."

"Okay," Fred said. "I’ll tell  him the honest woman with the honest eyes has been looking for him."

At the last reading, the lectern really transformed the event as far as I was concerned. It made my introductions feel more solid, more….I don’t know what.

David Berreby, author of Us and Them, seemed very comfortable up there in a quasi academic way as he discussed his wonderful book, "US AND THEM."

The transformative powers of a lectern. Honest eyes. If I could only find Sunny and pay him.