Readers Report
Crown Heights born and bred I now live in the (alien) suburbs of New Jersey. Spent my days growing up on President St.—moving around the corner to Carroll St. when I was eight. P.S. 241: Mrs. Shprentz with her arm supporting her bosom, Miss Levy banging on the wooden seats in the auditorium on assembly day. Field day and the dance festival: two joyous days not being in the classroom. I still have some copies of Highlights, the school magazine, along with a very faded third grade class newspaper from Mrs. Kemins/Mrs. Root. Oh yes, some of the great things we learned included all the verses to the Star Spangled Banner and the musical version of "Give Me Your Tired and Poor."
Franklin Avenue: Three candy stores between Eastern Parkway and Carroll Street. Raes does not count because they always charged too much for candy and they were nasty too. GarciaVega for the best egg creams, ISH (really I & H, originally the two Lennys) for a quick cone or a dip into the deep cold water of the soda cooler, Geisers for penny candy and a comic book. I lived across the hall from Mr. Geiser and used to write letters for him after his wife died and he could not hold a pen. Two deli's within three blocks . Fisher Bros. and Bernstein's supermarkets; Manny's grocery where I could drop the list off on my way to school and it would be delivered in the afternoon with a tip—the only money transacted until my mother got around to paying the bill.
Sandy Solomon Wexler continues . . .
The smell of the Chinese laundry . . . Frank and Bob's beauty parlor, fumes of hairspray and the buzz of the hairdryers, trying to locate my mother underneath one of the big hot hoods . . . the Franklin Manor on Rosh Hashonah . . . stores closed on Sunday except for the deli and the bakery. Yes, life was simple and we were street smart; everything we needed was contained on Franklin Avenue. The best part of the story is that I have kept my Crown Heights friends. There will always be Brooklyn in my heart.
My Brooklyn is the smell of Park Slope. . . . I would give my right hand to feel it in my nostrils again. I lived there for a short while in '97-'98, and my goodbye to Brooklyn was a very tiny ceremony, considering what Park Slope did for me. I became the one I am today, and I wouldn't have "found myself" if I hadn't spent all the money I had to get to the States. I feel like I left my life behind when I went back overseas, even though it was a couple of years ago. I wish I had said goodbye properly. . . . Actually, let me take that back; I wish I never had to say goodbye. I really want to go back. . . . I miss everything, even the time I almost got mugged. Even though I had a tough time getting there, IT WAS ALL WORTH IT! Thanks. .
Readers' reports continue . . .
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