My Brooklyn

Mine is the Brooklyn of the forties and fifties. P. S. 152, Midwood High School ('54), Ebbets Field, Nathan's (the original, in Coney Island), riding the Flatbush Avenue trolley with my brother to the BIG library at Grand Army Plaza (when one could allow a six- and a ten-year-old to venture out alone, secure in the knowledge they would return unscathed), or prowling the museum with friends when I was a bit older (the Egyptian exhibit was always a favorite).

I stroll, in my mind, through the streets of a Brooklyn vastly different from that portrayed by the media. Much of Flatbush was quiet streets, big houses and well-kept lawns, leaves to be raked in the fall, and snows never big enough to close the schools except once, after the blizzard of '47.

We lived in an apartment on East 27th street at Glenwood Road until I was nine. Then we moved to a house on Glenwood Road at East 18th street. Apartment living was ringolevio and potsie, hide-and-seek and stoop ball, footprints in hot tar or initials in wet cement, and roasting potatoes in a fire we built on a curbside one hot summer night. I can smell them still! When we moved, I was getting older and my horizons broadened. Horseback riding in Prospect Park, bike riding all the way out to Avenue U, Manhattan Beach in the summer, swimming at the St. George Hotel in the winter. As I look back, it all seems so far away and magical. I am nostalgic, as are so many of those who have contributed here. But I have to ask the question, Am I nostalgic for that Brooklyn of long ago, or simply for the years that will never be again? Or are they inextricably bound together?

I live in Kentucky now. It's a long way from Brooklyn!

Playing punchball in the street as a kid. Walking down to the corner luncheonette and getting a delicious egg cream!

I now live in New Jersey, but still visit my parents where I grew up. I'm from Brooklyn Heights, yes, in the shadow of the Promenade and the Brooklyn Bridge. My memories are playing stickball in the turning circle of the dead end street I grew up on. We painted in home plate. First base was painted on the wall of a building. Second was a manhole cover, third the fire hydrant. Playing the outfield required skill to catch fly balls coming out of the trees.

I still take walks along the Promenade when I visit, and check out the new restaurants, which seem to change all the time. I got to know many other parts of Brooklyn. I attended Samuel J. Tilden in East Flatbush for high school. So, Brooklyn still has memories and there will be others since I visit an average of every six weeks, to see the family and attend Toastmasters events. I've enjoyed reading this forum and thanks for having it.

Thanks for the memories! My Brooklyn was in Bensonhurst, 1675-75th Street. Lived my first 18 years in the basement apartment. Didn't think anything of it: thought everyone did. My Brooklyn was the B-Train el rumbling by every 10 minutes, right at the good part in the TV show, so you couldn't hear it. My Brooklyn was building snow forts and storing snow balls, so you could throw t hem at the Number 4 bus as it went by. My Brooklyn was going to Fulton St. and A&S, taking one of the huge manually operated elevators up to the toy department on the 8th floor, then heading down to the basement for an ice cream in a tall glass cup. My Brooklyn was walking along New Utrecht Ave. heading to OLG Catholic school, waiting at the curb for Josie the crossing guard to say you could cross. My Brooklyn was playing stoop ball, and "Skullies", with crayons melted into bottle caps. My Brooklyn was proudly walking into the soda fountain with a couple of pennies and ordering a 2 cents plain. My Brooklyn was going down to Fort Hamilton and watching the Verrazano Bridge being built. My Brooklyn was the pizzeria on 18th Avenue, buying a slice and folding it in half and letting the first bite make you feel that all was good with the world. The world was all right. Brooklyn was the world.

I now live in California but I am still from Brooklyn. I grew up in Canarsie (home of the Canarsie dumps).I graduated from P.S. 115 in 1953. Graduated from George Westinghouse Vocational High School in 1957. I remember "Dem Bums" and great days at Ebbets Field. I still have longings for the Coney Island Nathan's hot dogs. Does anyone remember the pink "Spaldeens" and kick the can?

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