Kinda Got a Feeling, I'm Not in Brooklyn Anymore

It’s been so long since I’ve written I don’t think anybody checks anymore.

My first two weeks of August were spent in Brooklyn. My son, who lives there was on vacation elsewhere, but he allowed me to camp out.

 

I discovered that the secret to surviving 12 days in NYC is to live them as if you live there. Tourists burn themselves out. So… like most working New Yorkers, I went out during the day and stayed home at night. I spent 5 days in NY by myself and then a friend from Charleston joined me for the remaining week. My reputaton as the meteorological kiss of death played itself out once more. I was not settled in Brooklyn for more than a few days when the first tornado touchdown in 113 years struck a Brooklyn neighborhood. Good thing I'd brought my red shoes... the Wicked Witch might have been lurking around any corner or subway stop.

 

We were really attracted to the Brooklyn Heights promenade. What a wonderful gift to the residents of Brooklyn. There’s an incredible view, which I've mentioned before; the Statue of Liberty to the left, the Manhattan skyline directly in front and the Brooklyn Bridge to the right. By the way… I LOVE the Brooklyn Bridge. It is my second most favorite architectural creation (Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, the first). Court Street and Montague Street in Brooklyn became my “hangout.” The promenade is a great place for people to congregate, walk, bring their dogs and children. One day my friend and I walked to DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) and explored. We found the famous Grimaldi's Pizza house but it was a Saturday so the line to get in was thirty deep. We walked around the corner and went to another pizza place named after the street it's on. First Street Pizza, maybe? We started out at a restaurant I’d frequented before named “Rice” but I had forgotten they only take cash and we had cards (sigh). We walked some more through the Fulton Street Park and ended up with ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory.

 

One of my friend’s favorite things was to just sit outside at night in front of the Brooklyn brownstone and watch the foot traffic to the subway station and talk. I enjoyed it too. We drank vodka and told stories of our lives.

 

Another day we walked around Greenwich Village and SoHo and got cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery. There was a line there too! What's THAT about?

 

On Friday we went into Manhattan (one day in Manhattan, one day in Brooklyn was our routine) and it was 55 degrees and drizzling! We couldn't believe it. The day before it had been 85 and the day after as well. We were FREEZING! We shopped on Broadway and stopped into several Starbucks just to warm up a bit.

 

The last day of our stay we walked 5th Avenue. I'd never done that; the Plaza, Empire State Bldg., Central Park. It was a beautiful day. I walked so much during my stay in NY (not to mention the subway stairs) that I LOST three pounds!

 

On the flight home I sat next to an eight-year old girl named Rachel who was traveling alone. Across the aisle, a one and a half-year old baby boy. I would be entertained or entertain whether I wanted to or not. Rachel and I chatted on and off during the flight. Towards the end of our flight she said, “I’m so glad you don’t live in my neighborhood. This boy, Cameron _______ tortures me every day.” I said, “Well you should never let boys torture you.” She said, “I don’t. I have a restraining order out on him so that he can’t come into my yard.” In that moment I felt a little sad for Rachel. Given the short life story she'd shared with me, I knew that no eight year old child uses the words "restraining order" unless they'd had experience with the term. Then she said, “There are only two boys allowed to come into my yard.”

 

And in solidarity with her, I said, “That’s OK. There are only two boys allowed to come into my yard.” The old woman sitting in front of us turned her head, looked between the seats, caught my eye and laughed her head off.

 

All too soon, school has begun. But I’m ready and loving it, as usual.

 

 

A Spirit Grows in Brooklyn

I had such a good day. The weather finally broke and I awoke to cool, dry breezes and a lovely summer day. I took my coffee in my son's and daughter-in-law's beautiful courtyard garden behind their brownstone.  I called my Mom as is our usual Sunday morning routine. At 11:00 I walked the half  block to the nearest subway station (they're lucky that way...or smart to have chosen this location) out to the Century 21 store deeper into Brooklyn. I took the subway to 86th Street. As I emerged from the underground, I took the wrong turn towards 3rd Ave when I should have turned towards 5th (what else is new?), but quickly noticed my mistake. I shopped for a while, spent $61 dollars. I got four articles. At the bottom of my receipt is printed the following, "You saved $421.61."  Don't you just LOVE it? Then I wanted to head towards my "hangout" at Court and Montague so I entered the subway in the direction of Manhattan. The only glitch of the day occurred when the "voice of the subway" announced that the R line is under construction and would not stop at the Court Street station so I had to go as far as Canal Street into Manhattan, get out of the car and cross the platform back into Brooklyn for the Court Street stop. (I'm getting good at this.. OK, maybe not. But at least I don't panic anymore). By this time it was 3:00 so I went to Connecticut Muffin and got a Chicken Curry sandwich, crossed the street and ate half of it with my Starbucks iced coffee (purchased with my discount). I'll have the other half for dinner. I lingered there and read a while. When I left Starbucks, I ventured further down Montague and came upon a wondrous sight. I discovered what perhaps half of Brooklyn already knows; one of the features of Brooklyn Heights is "The Promenade," a walkway along the river that offers one of the best views of Manhattan I have ever seen. To my left was the Statue of Liberty, as close to her as I have ever been. Directly front and center, the island of Manhattan and off to the right, the incredible Brooklyn Bridge. I sat on a bench and soaked up the sun and the view. I came "home" and between the two of us, Time-Warner cable's robot telephone voice and I managed to get my son's cable picture back up on screen (it had been out for 24 hours. By the way, have I mentioned? They're not here. They are on vacation somewhere else.!). The cable is back. WhooWoo!! Today, I LOVED New York.

On Hiatus?

I haven't written about my trip to Maine and Rhode Island. To do so would entail my writing about the members of my family, people I love very much. I respect their privacy too much to write about them in a public journal. I am now in NYC until the 13th, at which time there will be little less than a week and a half before school begins again. I find myself thinking, "Where did the summer go?"

The sounds of Brooklyn streets are so different from those of South Carolina. At home I hear no one rifling through the bottles left on the street for the recycling truck. There are no barking dogs where I live. Here, children cry and shout. Boom boxes play loud salsa, or rap as they pass the window on the way to the subway station. An ice cream truck parks in front of the house for fifteen minutes, its singsong, bell-like music repeats the same refrain. The many languages heard in the subway cars offer a rich cacophany of diversity. The sounds of traffic here in Brooklyn do not only come from the cars that pass before the window. The sound of traffic is an echo that fills the night; a groan that emerges from the depths of the city miles away. It is the sound of seven million people who create a constant drone, imperceptible to those who live here, but ever present to the visitor.

Since I arrived on Thursday the heat in NYC has been stifling, despite a surprising breeze that somehow manages to make its way between skyscrapers. The cool of the night promises to last through the day tomorrow.

For all my visits to NYC I have never had a celebrity sighting until yesterday. In a salad and sandwich place off Broadway, I stood in line behind Debra Messing as we told a white-aproned server what to include in our "create-your-own-salad" bowls. I ordered dried cranberries and feta and mushrooms. She passed on all three.

I have found a place to "hangout" in Brooklyn; the Court/Montague Street area. For the past three nights I have walked these streets, stopping into little restaurants for dinner, topping that off with espresso at Starbucks and making one last stop into Key Foods. I haul  the little grocery bags underground to take back home on the subway.
It is an exhausting enterprise to live in NYC without a car.  To actually drive one, I should think, would be stressful.