Readers Report
P.S. 241 in the 1940s, where my eyes were opened to a wider world and the education was thorough and rigorous. Miss McDermott's 6th grade class, where I developed a life-long interest in writing and Miss Kenney teaching 8th grade math and guarding the entry. I remember St John's Place, the bells from St. Theresa's marking every quarter hour, the crisp uniforms of the nursing students from Prospect Heights Hospital, Mr. Wahlberg the butcher who never failed to have a little slice of something for me when I ran my mother's errands, Ebinger's cheese danish, the smell of years and wood and dust and stuff in Ruder's, fiercely guarded by old Mrs. Ruder who watched everything and everybody with an eagle eye, and Mr. Lipper's rye bread . . . never equaled, anywhere. Most of all I remember how cohesive the neighborhood was despite its diversity. In those days, in the 1940s, no one thought of differences, we were all Americans, united against common enemies, and all friends, spending ration coupons, visiting the Museum and the big library on Grand Army Plaza, enjoying the walks, bridal paths, and lake in Prospect Park. Brooklyn was the Dodgers, ours no matter how bad they were, and prized because of it before counter-culture heros were known. Most of all, I remember Brooklyn as my childhood's home, safe, familiar, and the foundation of who I was and who I became.
28 April 1998
Grew up 17th St. between 7th and 8th Aves. Went to P.S. 10 and Manual Training H.S. (now John Jay).
I have lived in Texas for 26 years now and left Brooklyn in April of 1968.
Anyone out there remember me?
28 April 1998
Home, on the 5th floor on Ocean Ave was bliss; P.S. 208 was hell. Erasmus was great and so were egg creams. The Flatbush Avenue trolley was nice. Piano lessons on Union Street were fun. When I visited the Bronx, at the age of 4, I figured they must have been amiss (not my actual words, at the time), since, when they "built" the Bronx, they left all those hills! Brooklyn was done well: it was nice and flat. 1943 was a fine year. I was 3 and my mom took a sabbatical and we spent most of our time in Prospect Park. I still remember fondly those low arch-like metal borders for the grass—they were one of the few things in Brooklyn shorter than me at the time. Does anyone remember the game, Russia? It was played by throwing a Spaulding against the side of an apartment house and catching it in various ways. The one who could get to "ten-zies" without a mishap, won.
30 April 1998
[ Jump to My Brooklyn, page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368]
Return
to Brooklyn Home Page.