Readers Report
R
Brooklyn, my beautiful, impossible Brooklyn. Through tears of longing for that place and that time, and dreams as high as the Parachute Jump, and me as high as my grandpa's pants pocket, holding my hand and speaking to me in Italian while we walked across the footbridge over Sheep's Head Bay through the gauntlet of fishing poles. Remember the sign on it that said "Do not make fast to this bridge"? My rebellious brothers and I would run across that bridge to see what would happen. Many years later I realized what the sign actually meant—don't tie your boat to this bridge. Too late. As I sometimes feel like I am set adrift in life, my heart is made fast to Brooklyn and wherever I am in the world, East 19th and Avenue O is indelibly tattooed on it. Thanks forever for that blessing.
My Brooklyn was Brownsville and East New York with all the parks and playgrounds that a kid could play stickball in with thoughts of being on the Dodger or Yankee starting lineups. P.S.184, George Gershwin J.H.S. and Thomas Jefferson H.S. are the schools that I attended. The walks with my parents to Pitkin Ave. and helping my mother shop on Belmont Ave. from the pushcarts that lined the street. Watching some of the best ballplayers move gracefully through the summer night air in Nanny Goat Park and in the gym of the Brownsville Boys Club on Linden Blvd. This Brooklyn was home to my family and the relatives that safely migrated from Europe to form their uniquely American life with the "Brooklyn" edge to it. I now live in Alaska; a land so different in every way but I will never forget the memories of a young boy growing up in an area that was so vibrant; I still see the hill next to the BMT Canarsie line that we all would go sledding when school was closed. I miss the people and the memories of what Brooklyn was to me.
My Brooklyn Road was a long time ago in Sheepshead Bay. When we moved to E. 22nd St. and Neck Rd. A few blocks past our houses were lots and the remains of the old race track. We would pick wild flowers on the next block. It was the country. We used the BMT subway—Neck Rd. was our subway station. P.S. 206 was on the corner of E. 22nd St. and Neck Rd. In the summer we would walk to Brighton Beach (a long walk) to go swimming. The houses were and still are two family houses. The place hasn't changed too much—only many more of the same type of houses and different ethnic groups.
Readers' reports continue . . .
[ 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.