My Brooklyn

Readers Report


Andrea Cornick

As a child and young adult, My Brooklyn was Canarsie in The Breukleun Houses from 1957-1971. I attended P.S. 242, John Wilson J.H.S.(211) and Canarsie High School. I remember the free Christmas passes to the Canarsie theatre, where at the end of the children's movie we all received chocolate-covered marshmallow Santas. The long walk to Avenue L from Flatlands and 103rd Street made the trip all the more adventuresome. I fondly remember the long walks to Canarsie Pier with only a jug of Kool-Aid and a bag of chips to sustain us for our all day adventure. I have fond Christmas memories of my dad walking up to the farmers market on Flatlands and Remsen to pick out our Christmas tree and his lugging it all the way back to the projects. Oh the projects . . .

Where else could you always find a playmate and even in the most inclement weather you could always go upstairs or next door to play. No playdates like we have to set today. I have fond memories of early release time on Wednesdays to walk to Holy Family church for religious instructions. Sundays after church we would walk to Napoli's Bakery on Rockaway parkway and pay a nickel for a bun and eat ten times as much in free samples. I remember Red from The Royal Card shop around the corner from Packer's supermarket. Red would always save the August issue of Seventeen Magazine, the huge back to school issue filled with clothes I could only dream of owning. I remember when Packer's opened and my waiting on line for over an hour to pay for one loaf of bread that moved along the magical moving checkout. We no longer had to "push" it down. I remember my fathers pride when, at the age of 15, I was employed after school at that supermarket. He waited over an hour for the pleasure of being "checked out" by his enterprising daughter. I remember the fun and pleasure of hanging out in the Rock and Roll park in the projects. There are so many memories and so little time to recount all.

I can recall so many times driving through "Rich" Flatbush, Ditmas Park, which has the distinction of having the largest concentration of free-standing turn-of-the-century homes in the United States. I can remember so well wondering what the folks who lived there must be like. . . .

Well dreams do come true. I am now a proud resident of Ditmas Park and an owner of one of those glorious homes. I only wish my children could come to appreciate this as much as I do. Unfortunately they are continually bombarded with images of "The New" that they cannot fully appreciate the nooks and crannies of the old. But who knows . . . perhaps 25 years from now, they will add to this wonderful page. I am fortunate and have been quite successful and could live most anywhere I choose and I am. . . . I chose Brooklyn!

10 December 1997


Pat Jones (Fair)

I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes , so happy to have taken this trip down memory lane. My Brooklyn was 561 Baltic St., Atlantic Ave., St. Augustine's Catholic school, reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, sitting on the stoop on a hot summer's nite listening to the sounds of Brooklyn . . . kids screeching, the rushing water of the johnny pump as it made an arc through the air (u cut out both sides of a tin can), daydreams of becoming a nun. My childhood friends Kevin Powell, Maritza Soto, Yvonne Nunez and Carmen Rojas (where r u guys?) We moved to East New York in 1969, Linden Houses. I am a graduate of Canarsie H.S., class 1973 (ex-cheerleader).

I miss pizza by the slice that u fold in half and it isn't good until the oil drips down your arm. I miss knish and egg creams. I miss being a little black girl who felt Jewish when I played with my Jewish friends, Italian when I played with my Italian friends and Puerto Rican all the time. I miss the rhythm of different cultural beats. I live in NC now and still go to Brooklyn often (in my mind).

I am now in a relationship with my first boyfriend, a skinny little Brooklyn kid. We dated from 1967-1973 and now 24 years later, we sit on the porch, on a hot summer's nite and listen for the sounds of Brooklyn.

Thanks for the memories.

12 December 1997


 

Readers' reports continue . . .

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