My Brooklyn (348)

Marc Smilen

My Brooklyn was being born in a Brooklyn hospital in 1968. Leaving Brooklyn for Staten Island when I was three years old, in 1971 or 1972. Brooklyn was my Transit-cop uncle, and my three adult cousins, who never had me over for any Sunday dinners or holiday gatherings. They thought my widowed mother, my aunt and uncle's in-law, was supposed to be my chauffeur and baby-sitter. My Brooklyn is other people's vague memories of Smilen Brother's fruit and vegetables, a family business I really grew up not knowing anything about. And if any readers out there would share their stories with me of Smilen Brother's fruits and vegetables, it would be appreciated. Maybe you have a picture of it? My Brooklyn was Brighton Beach, where my grandmother lived in her one bedroom apartment, with the medium sized bedroom, and the big living room, the small eat-in kitchen, and the fairly large hallway. The hallway had three closets. The neighborhood was beginning its overrun of Russian immigrants. The poultry shop on Brighton Beach Blvd. still had the fresh chickens hanging in the window, feathers on the floor. The rumble of the train overhead. Vinny's barbershop where I got haircuts on the Blvd. The train tracks turn onto Coney Island Blvd. Up on Ocean Blvd., past the Brighton Beach Baths was the Lincoln Savings Bank. A beautiful building. The last of the big old-time bank branches. Forty Thieves newspaper stand at the corner of Coney Island Blvd. and Brighton Beach Blvd. Those times when my mother had me stay at my grandmother's apartment when she went on a vacation, late at night, Brooklyn was sitting in that big living room, trying to convince my grandmother to let me watch Dallas, although, she wanted the news every night. Mainly she wanted the weather report. Not that she had any plans to schedule around the weather. The old women used to go to the Brighton Baths to play cards. My grandmother complained she didn't have the patience. Brighton 6th Street, I think she lived on. I could see the top of the twin towers from the bedroom window. Brighton 6th Street had big old apartment buildings. A largely elderly population, with some young here and there. At the corner, right off the Blvd., was some sort of sweatshop, a tailor shop perhaps. And next to that was a Russian restaurant. Across the street from that was a snack bar. These stores were fifty to seventy feet from the Blvd. My Brooklyn was not really my Brooklyn. I was not yet old enough to venture anywhere. Brooklyn is my stranger. I have a vague memory of being two or three years old, walking on a spring or summer day in Sheepshead Bay along the water, having walked to the store on a Sunday with my father.

17 April 2001

Marie

MY Brooklyn is where all my memories stand out the most in my mind. The day when my oldest brother held out his arms to me so he could embrace me .I remember how tall and handsome he looked in his uniform. Little did I know that only a few days after he was home on leave that he would get a phone call from Carroll Park to come there because his little sister walked in front of a swing and got hit with it on her forehead. Some memories, uh! It all turned out OK.

My dad worked at the Brooklyn Army Base and I would wait for him on the stoop in summer and wait to see him turn onto first place from Smith St.

I can remember my mother calling me from the window to go to Pete's on Smith St. for a loaf of bread. Sometimes I had to go to Carmine's on Court and First Pl. and tell him "My Mother said to put it on the bill." (Try that today.) We lived on the top floor so my mother would throw her list and the money out the window.

I can go on and on about My Brooklyn .I still visit there and every time I do I feel as though I never left. Even though some of the places that once were there are gone, I can still visualize them. Thanks for this great site that you've created. It was a great trip.

19 April 2001

Marie continues . . .