This appeared last January 25th on the old OTBKB:

There wasn’t even a word for depression in Sri Lanka
until a few years ago. Not that they didn’t need it. Doctors there say
that people express their unhappiness by having pain, back aches, or
difficulty sleeping. And by commiting suicide. Apparently, Sri Lanka
has one of the hightest suicide rates in the world.

In New York there must be 40 words for depression. If not more. 

Sri
Lanka, with a population of 20 milliion people, has only about 30
psychiatrists. Very few of them speak the language of the Meulaboh
region, which was badly hit. Needless to say, therapy is not a common
activity in that part of the world. Unlike New York City, the Sri
Lankans are not held together by the loving thread of trained
therapists. Not to mention Zoloft.

There must be thousands of therapists in Brooklyn alone. 

No,
a stop at the shrink’s office is not a weekly occurrence in Sri Lanka.
How spoiled we are in New York City where the examination of one’s
navel is considered a necessity not a luxury. And yet, Smartmom
believes that navel examination truly is a form of preventive health
care. In so many ways, New Yorkers benefit from their weekly
exploration of self. Without it, Lord help us: New York would be a
whole lot more neurotic and/or psychotic than it already is.

Just imagine New York without therapy.   

But
in other parts of the world, there’s just too much else to do — like
survival — to have time for such things. Religious institutions
probably do their part. Buddhist meditation is just one example of a
spiritual practice that is, in its way, deeply psychological in nature.

The people of Sri Lanka are a stoic people with a strong belief
in god’s will, and a different (maybe better) relationship to death.
Even in a crisis of this magnitude, they carry on. Call it denial, call
it pragmatism, they are grieving quietly and privately while rebuilding
their lives. What other option do they have?

And yet, grief and
trauma can wreak havoc on people’s lives. Experts have observed that "
suicide rates drop in times of crisis but then bounce back up again –
to higher levels than they were originally," writes Denise Grady in the
New York Times.

Mental health experts the world have made
offers of help. But the Sri Lankian government is asking them to stand
back and respect the nature of the Sri Lankan culture. They believe
that the deep religious beliefs of the Sri Lankans and their strong
sense of community and family will help them through this tragedy. And,
in most cases, they are probably right.

One Sri Lankan
official quoted in the Times said that "too many irrelvant, inept,
strange ideas from other countries could do disservice to tsunami
victims." He was especially adamant that de-briefing, a technique where
disaster victims are encouraged to talk about traumatic experiences
after a disaster, would be especially harmful.

Smartmom is
familiar with this argument. She has been working with the FDNY since
December 2001 on a newsletter for the families of those who lost loved
ones on September 11th. After the WTC disaster, firefighters were
debriefed and urged to talk about the tragedy in great detail —
apparently it helped them a lot. They were also encouraged to partake
of the free counseling services available 24 hours a day at the
Counseling Service Unit.

After 9/11, many health care
professional from around the world offered their services to the FDNY.
Fairly quickly, the FDNY realized that mental health professionals
without the proper understanding of the fire department culture could
do more harm than good. Over time, the FDNY expanded its counseling
staff in order to provide appropriate care for those who were suffering
from various degrees of post-traumatic-stress and grief.

Firefighters
are also a stoic lot with a strong sense of family and religious ties.
For them, therapy helped them with the on-going grief and stress. At
first it was hard to convince those who are used to helping others that
they needed help. But many of them came around because they were
suffering so much. And their recovery was fairly rapid once they went
in for counseling. There’s no telling how much alcoholism, drug
addiction, spousal and child abuse, and suicide were avoided because of
this.

So, Smartmom wonders how the Sri Lankans will fare
emotionally. What of the parentless children, the parents who lost
their little loved ones, those who saw whole communities die — how
will they get through this? Is it true that this community will be able
to escape "post traumatic-stress" simply because of their cultural
background?

There is no one-size fits all solution to recovery
from tragedy. A person’s mental health prior to the event, resilience
and resourcefulness must all be taken into account. People are very
unique in the ways that they heal; in how they like to take care of
themselves.

Smartmom is grateful for her weekly trips to her
therapist, her shaman, the man who helps her "see." Her problems are
fairly minor compared to those of people in other parts of the world.
But still, she believes in the value of self-examination and is
thankful that she has the option.

Everyone needs help from time to time.   

I ran into A at the Chip Shop recently. She is doing very well. The new house is still being renovated. But they have more space than they ever imagined. A lovely mother and her two teenage children have moved into A’s apartment.

A, Smartmom’s neighbor of nearly twelve years, is moving out today. She is
finally moving into the brownstone she bought and renovated on Ninth
Street. The movers came last week and yesterday she had her final
apartment sale. Strangers were coming in the building all day to pick
through baby clothes, toys, children’s book and kitchen utensils.

Smartmom
is sad to see A go although they never really connected as friends.
They were, however, good neighbors. Whenever they saw each other they’d
say hello, inquire about one another’s children and ask how life was
going. On occasion they helped each other out. A would ask for
Smartmom’s help in small ways: Can you let the exterminator in? Can
Hepcat fix my computer? Do you mind lending us a copy of "The Great
Gatsby," my son has an English paper due?

Smartmom always kept a copy of A’s key just in case. That sort of thing.

Hepcat
once asked A, who is a lawyer, for legal advice. It was years ago
when he was signing an intellectual property clause on an employment
contract. She was extremely helpful and forthcoming with information
and names of specialists in that field.

When A’s great aunt
died, Smartmom invited her in for a cup of tea. She was,
understandably, feeling out of sorts and said it was strange to be home
alone with such sad news. A told Smartmom all about her Aunt, who was
an inspiring and loving figure in her life. Smartmom checked in a few
times to see how she was doing. She seemd to appreciate that.

But,
for the most part, Smartmom kept a respectful distance. You know that
old adage: Fences make good neighbors. It applies to emotional fences
too. Maybe because of this, unkind words never passed between them. A did once rightfully complain about some boxes that Hepcat left in the
hallway. But other than that, she never once complained about noise or
anything else. And that’s exceptional for nearly 12 years of living
side by side.

Smartmom observed A’s life from a neighborly
distance. A divorcee, she dated various men until she met the wonderful
one who smokes a cigar, who is now her partner. Her son, who was only 6
or 7 when Smartmom moved in, is now a handsome, buff, and friendly high
school junior.

For years, Smartmom has seen his dad drop him
off at the building after their mid-week afternoon and evening
together. Smartmom has discerned tension between A and her ex on
these drop-offs. Smartmom always smiled supportively and then looked
the other way.

Smartmom knew that A and her new partner were
hunting for houses for over two years. A asked Smartmom to be
discreet around the landlord. When they found the house they are moving
into it was only supposed to take a few months to renovate. It took
much longer and A kept Smartmom posted on the construction snafus.

Now
this family of three is ready to move into their new home. Smartmom
doesn’t quite know how to acknowledge the move. A glass of champange, a
modest gift, a card wishing her every good wish? It seems important
somehow to honor this transition, this move from one place to another,
this loss.

It’s not enough just to wave goodbye.

Last February, a group of people rented out the Brooklyn Lyceum and had a dance. It was a great idea and I wish someone would do that again. Anyone interested?

Last night Smartmom and Hepcat partied like it was 1986 and what a
night it was. They could have been in Area, the Tunnel or the
Palladium, but it was the Brooklyn Lyceum, the classical style public
bath that’s been transformed into a theater and performance space on
Fourth Avenue.

But really, they were years away from those
fabled night spots of the mid to late 1980’s and their younger selves.
In the here and now, the room was filled with middle-aged Park Slopers
who looked pretty darn good in their Saturday night best dancing to an
incredible mix of funk, rap, hip hop, and soul. Tom Tom Club really got
the room moving as did Madonna and other old favorites. But there were
newer sounds by artists they’d never heard of too, and they sounded
just as good.

Yet, it wasn’t a nostalgic night for pretending
to be young or revisiting the past. No, it was a bunch of people acting
their age — boldly and happily expressing themselves in free form
dance; shaking their hips to the rhythms of the night. There were
couples, singles, friends, and strangers joyfully dancing together.
People were sweating, stripping off layers of clothing; just content to
be out on a cold February night away from children and the daily
details.

When the clock struck midnight, there was a
Cinderella moment in the room. Many had to get home to babysitters and
sleeping children. Smartmom and Hepcat said their good byes and got
their coats from the coat check. Walking up President Street toward
Fifth Avenue and home, they could still hear the propulsive bass
leaking out of the Lyceum’s windows. The music was beckoning them to
the dance floor for one more dance before they turned into pumpkins
again.

The original Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn (OTBKB) began on September 18, 2004 on Blogspot. But it was different then. There was no No Words_Daily Pix, no Scoop Du Jour, and no Postcard from the Slope.

The old OTBKB, which is sporadically updated, is now called Third Street . It features the adventures of Smartmom, Hepcat Daddy-O, Teen Spirit and the Oh So Fiesty One, as well as other local characters. Smartmom now has her very own column in The Brooklyn Papers.

The new OTBKB started on January 31, 2005 (see first post of that below). Here’s the September 18th post of the old OTBKB.

This morning, Smartmom took care of some recent kitchen problems. The
old man who fixes stoves came by to fix the oven which hasn’t been
working in weeks. Later, the cheerful exterminator stopped by. Smartmom
told him about the wheat moth problem but he said there’s nothing he
can do about it — he specializes in roaches and mice. "You got to go
to the sauce," he said. Smartmom thought he meant that there was some
sauce that is especially delicious to wheat moths. Actually, he was
saying THE SOURCE in thick Brooklynese and pointed to a box of rice,
and other boxes of grains. "If you see nests in there, they gotta go in
the garbage," he said. Note: Smartmom had already thrown out ALL open
boxes of grain and had emptied and scrubbed the cabinet. She’s also
using Pantry Pest traps bought at the PARK SLOPE FOOD COOP.

–I started OTBKB almost one year ago
–I was inspired by Debbie Galant, the Barista of Bloomfield Avenue, a Montclair/Glen Ridge,  New Jersey blog.
–I met her at a Bat Mitzvah.
–I thought what she was doing was cool. It made me think: I wanna do that, too. For Park Slope.
–She told me to go with Type Pad and was very generous with information.
–My friend Toby Fox designed the site and the logo. She came up with the funny icons.
–My husband helped with the many technicalities.
—My husband started No Words_Daily Pix in the first week of OTBKB
–It’s been a great way for people to see his photographic work
–I wanted lots of people to read OTBKB
–I NEVER imagined how many people would read OTBKB
–Laura Eveleth at the Barista of Bloomfield Avenue encouraged me to get advertisers. She told me how to do that.
–I got advertisers. I want more.
–People know all about me now.
–There are still a lot of things people don’t know.
–I think OTBKB has been a good thing.
–Actually I know OTBKB has been a good thing for a lot of reasons.
–I’m not sure what to do next,
–The one year mark seems a good time to reflect, to regroup, to rethink
–I feel good about this
–It’s been nice to "meet" all the other bloggers out there.
–Feels like we’re a community: Come to the First Brooklyn Blog Festival on June 22nd at the Old Stone House
–Thanks to all the readers of OTBKB.
–Thanks for reading and responding.

WHAT is Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn, you may ask.  And WHY am I doing this?

ANSWER: Not sure just yet.

It remains to be seen what this needs and wants to be. In the
meantime, I will continue to be the all-eyes, all-ears,
all-around-the-Slope interested busybody; a social anthropologist, if
you will.

Observing, being alert to the details, passing on important
information, I want to give  you a wiff of the neighborhood zeitgeist,
the mood that’s in the air.

Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn will also include vital links to
information about: schools, services, parking, retail, food, books,
movies, local artisans, writers, artists, activists, friends and
neighbors.

Down the line there will be advertising, school,
community, and cultural events in the neighborhood. Don’t be surprised
if you see shops and services advertised, as well: I need to pay the
rent (email me for advertising information).

Keep reading as things evolve. And please send your observations and YOUR notes about what makes the Slope tick.

I’d LOVE to hear from you.

Yours from Brooklyn,
OTBKB

   Just saw this on the Brooklyn Public Library web site:

5th Annual My Brooklyn Photo + Essay Contest

Brooklynites

A year ago, a 10-year-old Markita Nicole Weaver, was crushed to death in Red Hook:

What started as a makeshift memorial on a corner near Public School 15
where Markita Nicole Weaver last dove into a snow bank to make angels
still stands a year after the 10-year-old was dragged and crushed to
death.

About 25 stuffed animals, mostly Teddy bears, are tied to the iron
fence surrounding the elementary school, at the intersection of Wolcott
and Richards streets. A Tigger doll, faded to a peachy orange,
straddles one of the bars, while a white bear hangs in a clear plastic
bag, gripping a red heart that proclaims "I love you." Deflated
balloons dangle limply, and a crate of candles and plastic flowers sits
on the sidewalk by the fence. Among the toys, a laminated note reads,
"I just wanted to thank you for the things you did for my daughter,
Markita. From her mother." READ MORE AT B61 PRODUCTIONS

The New York Press does Brooklyn and, according to Curbed it makes for "excellent Friday reading." And so does Curbed. Except they provide excellent urban reading Monday through Friday.

The second 30th High School Reunion Planning Meeting of the progressive Upper West Side high school (PUWSHS) that no longer exists went pretty well.  I guess. We’ve settled on a date. Sort of. And we’ve decided that it’s okay to bring spouses. There was some debate on this point but finally it was decided when TV PRODUCER said, "Let’s do it the PUWSHS way: If you want to bring your spouse bring them. If you don’t, don’t!"

You don’t get to be the executive producer of a major network TV show for nothing.

We discussed the continuing process of finding our fellow classmates. Here are the numbers: Of the 29 members of our class: 16 of us know about the reunion. Of those 16, 13 are planning to attend, and 3 are non-committal (though somewhat interested).

Sadly, one of our classmates died a few years ago. 3 were so weird we’re not sure it’s a good idea to invite them, and 9 are "missing in action."

Of the missing, much conversation centered on PROM QUEEN. I call her that even though we didn’t have a prom at PUWSHS: we were too progressive Upper West Side for that. But if we’d had a prom (and we did have lots of parties) she was the closest thing to a prom queen.

OPERA SINGER, a dear friend, has become an avid reunion detective and thought she’d tracked down the phone number of PROM QUEEN’s parent’s country house in the Southwest. CORPORATE LAWYER was also on the case and thought he’d found another contact number on Verizon.com.

At the meeting, SCREENWRITER and I rolled eyes and wondered why everyone was so intent on locating PROM QUEEN. She wasn’t much of a girl’s girl, if you know what I mean: she "went out with" (we didn’t say "date" back in the too-cool ’70’s) all the "cutest"  guys in our class and even to this day seems to have snagged their unflagging attention.

This morning, LIFE INSURANCE, from the class of ’75 got on-line and wrote, "You kids never ask the older students for help. Here’s Prom Queen’s CELL PHONE NUMBER." Just like that.

Whoa. That took my breath away. LIFE INSURANCE AND PROM QUEEN were an item back in the day. They were practically a high school institution until they weren’t.

"PROM QUEEN has been located," I said to SCREENWRITER on the phone mid-morning. She was, uncharacteristically, speechless. By noon, OPERA SINGER actually reached PROM QUEEN at her office. "Our
conversation was very odd, and it was clear she was uncomfortable," write OPERA SINGER. "Not everyone wants to go back in time

On Thursday January 19th at 8 p.m. Brooklyn Reading Works presents fiction writers, Paola Corso and Ann Marie Cunningham at The Old Stone House in JJ Byrne Park in Park Slope. Fifth Avenue between 3rd and 4th Streets. 718-288-4290. Refreshments and books available.

Paola Corso, author of Giovanna

A reader of OTBKB is now the proud owner of that Brooklyn Industries down jacket my sister and I bought for my father on final sale. Otto, pictured above, e-mailed me on Monday. Our correspondence went something like this:

OTTO; Is the Brooklyn Industries jacket still available. And what color is is.

OTBKB: Yes. It’s maroon-ish. Aubergine is what I think it’s called. It’s lovely really. Would you like to try it?

OTTO: I can stop by tonight – try it and pick it up.

 OTBKB: Sounds good.

OTTO: Good. I’ll pass by after 8:00 pm. What’s your cross avenue?

OTBKB: I can’t make it tonight, I have a meeting in Manhattan that is going to run late. How about tomorrow at my office?

OTTO: OK. that would work. I can drop by your office in the afternoon. I’ll probably go with my dog

OTBKB: Sorry for all the changes in plans. Where did you find out about the jacket? On Craig’s List or OTBKB?

OTTO: I read about the jacket on OTBKB. I forgot what color it is.

OTBKB: It’s aubergine. Otherwise known as maroon. It’s good looking (hey, I bought it for my Dad and he loved it).

OTTO: Parents love anything you give them. I still remember, last year, my mother being effusive with loving praise even as she was having trouble breathing from this 10 sizes too small. Ann Taylor sweater I’d given her. Contemporary sweaters don’t have a "mom" size. See you there. I’ll practice my photo look.

So after more than 10 emails, I met Otto, a web site designer who lives in the Gowanus with a pitbull, at my office. A lovely man, he showed up in a beautiful bright orange Ecuadorian sweater that he said he’d bought on on Seventh Avenue in front of Key Food. I worried that the jacket might not fit over the heavy sweater but Otto put it on and was happy with the fit. "I don’t think I’ll be zipping it up over this sweater. But that’s okay."

He asked if I had a mirror in my office and I took one off the wall and held it up so he could see himself in it. He decided very quickly that he wanted it and handed me $35 dollars in cash. Then he went upstairs with my husband and had his picture taken.

Thanks Otto and, as my grandmother would say: Wear it in good health.

The second 30th high school reunion planning meeting, of a progressive high school on Manhattan’s Upper West Side that no longer exists, is happening tonight.

It’s been in the works for months. Well, ever since the first planning meeting which was before Thanksgiving. In the interim more of my fellow graduates  have joined the group. It’s a growing movement, this 30th reunion planning. People have surfaced, the e-mail list has ballooned out to 20 people by now.

We’ll meet again at the home of our generous and prosperous classmate, who lives in an art-filled loft in the Gramercy Park area. It is sure to be a larger group this time. We’ll probably have a lot to share  about the friends and teachers we’ve unearthed.

The big question is: where to have the reunion. The school no longer exists though the building is now occupied by another school. We asked if we could use the school auditorium on a particular Saturday night in May but no go: it is booked.

So that will probably be item numerou uno on the agenda tonight. Also, how much will people be willing to pay to attend this event. Other topics may include: food, entertainment, guest list (do we invite other classes, etc.), are spouses invited, children? (Dang, you know someone’s going to want to/or have to bring their child).

There was talk of a reunion picnic on the Sunday after the reunion. But I think that’s out of favor for now.

So tonight’s the night. I feel like a mess. Have been working like a maniac all day. I feel bloated and out-of-shape.  I need a haircut, highlights, a manicure.

Yeesh. Should I even go?

Actually, I’m not filled with as much fear and loathing as I was the last time. It doesn’t feel quite as scary, quite as threatening.

I did it once and it wasn’t THAT bad.

Wonder who’s going to show up….

So today I gave my dad the army green down jacket – the EXPENSIVE ONE – and he loves it even more than the other one. He oughta. It cost 4x as much as the other one. It looked smashing on and he loves the hood.

DONE.

I put an ad on Craig’s List about the coat and I’ve already gotten two response. I responded to both of them and haven’t heard a thing. Friendofficemate said that she wanted it but then decided she didn’t like the way it fit on her.

So it’s back to the drawing board. IF there’s anyone out there that wants it, let me know. And remember the BONUS: a picture of YOU wearing the COAT by Hugh Crawford.

So. Blogorrhea NYC, the blogwatcher on Gawker, who sometimes mentions OTBKB, caught wind of OTBKB’s La Bagel piece.