Public Art, originally uploaded by holden_helena.

Someone is putting up these lovely little art pieces around my block. I love them. This is one of two I've discovered. Whomever is doing it, they know what they're doing. Both pieces are attached so securely, you'd think a contractor did it.

The other piece has been up for over a year. This one went up a few weeks ago.

Fascinating.

A single jpg converted to an HDR image.

Click image to view larger size.

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Being a transplant from Brooklyn NY, KENSINGTON, to be exact. I am intrigued by the concept of this movie, to say the least, because I am almost totally unaware of New Jersey culture. The extent of my knowledge stems from browsing those "Images of America" books while trying to keep track of Little Drake in one of those big box book stores. I guess the closest bond I've ever had to a place would be there, though, I disliked living there. I wanted to live in the "country" and thought New Jersey was where I had to ultimately go, and so, it eventually happened. Sadly, I ended up in Elizabeth, NJ and while I'm not putting it down, it's still a city and if I had to live in the a city, I would rather it be in Brooklyn. Don't get me wrong, Elizabeth is steeped in history, but I really wanted to live in the "country". We live on a nice dead end street, but outside of my immediate block that "nice" quiet block feel disappears. The sidewalks are narrow, broken and a safety hazard. When LD was first born, I envisioned myself strolling with him in the stroller, getting some exercise, fresh air and UV rays. To my chagrin, I spent my time, much like a mountain climber, trying to navigate the sidewalk, endlessly pausing to lift the stroller over potholes, uplifted slabs of sidewalk and the always disgusting, loads of dog poopie. At every bump I was crossing my fingers that LD would not wake up. Definitely not Littletown, USA. At least a mountain climber can take in gulps of fresh air while spiraling up a mountain peak. Me? I'm just spiraling out of control. What's so bad about the city, you ask? Two words, "congestion and suffocation".

Ah, as I write this, I keep trying to get a feel for my own roots. I grew up on Louisa Street in the Kennington section of Brooklyn, that is by Church and McDonald. No, NOT "McDonald's", McDonald Avenue. My family had been there since 1964 or there abouts, living in what we called a "railroad" house. It was a two family home, and we were semi connected to another house on one side. The rooms in our first floor apartment were laid out one after the other in a line, and this is probably why it was a railroad house. We had a nice backyard, cemented over. My dad had corn growing in two wooden crates, set on platforms made of two pieces of wood. One year my mom had a watermelon vine growing out of an old refrigerator drawer, with the actual watermelon sitting on the bench of the picnic table and benches my dad made with his own hands out of weather treated wood and pipes (for the frame). It was all connected, benches connected by a pipe frame to the table. Ingenious. Painted brick red. We had... yeah, I say, "had" because after my mom passed away, my father sold the house to renting neighbors, a nice Indian family. He owns a construction company, so I found out that he gutted the place for renovation to accommodate his family, which was just as well because it was basically in it's original condition.

My dad was great at fixing and renovating himself, but as he got older and my mom got sicker, things were left the way they were, without the yearly fixing up and sprucing up. In those days, you made do with what you had. My dad could make anything. He made our barbecue out of an oil drum from his daytime job. (He worked at Ft. Tilden for the Army. Well, that's closed now.) He designed and welded the iron frame together himself out of, I believe, a bed frame from a high riser. He cut the drum in half, all the way around, lengthwise, with a blow torch. After it was all done, you could still see the melted metal all along the edge. With that blow torch, he cut out the nooks that would hold the grill in place. The grill was, I believe, old oven racks... but I really do not remember what they were because they looked perfect. He put a shelf into the top half of the thing.... but I think it needed to be empty if he closed the cover. This was one HUGE BBQ. He grilled up steaks, chicken, franks, hamburger, corn, whatever... all at once. But usually, he did the chicken first because it needs to cook longer, but he could make all the chicken at one time. I have great memories of those BBQ's... and my dad bbq'd outside in any season, in the rain, in the snow. No wonder, my favorite taste is from a CHARCOAL grill. These gas ones do NOT cut it at all, in my eyes... and taste buds.

You know, I would be remiss if I didn't thank someone tonight. While trolling the net for cool old tyme Kensington photos to better illustrate this post, I came across Kensington (Brooklyn). A treasure trove of stories from growing up in my old neighborhood. Seeing pictures, listening to stories of the old neighborhood, and in my time there, I was transported back. What a trip and looks like there are well over a thousand posts, so I'll need to get a jump on that. The blog is a private, team blog. Did I get that right? You must be a team member to comment... and I guess, write articles. I'm definitely going to email the link to a family and friends. I've really enjoyed Ron Lopez's stories, too... thanks so much!

I must say that this evening (really started this afternoon) I had the feeling that I did not belong anywhere. I never thought much about a possible bond that I might have with a "place" that I called home. I've spent so much of my adulthood, moving around from place to place, too. I never felt as if I belonged anywhere. Even here. I've been here since approximately 2003 and it's hard for me to feel planted... you know what I mean? I still have that transient feeling about me. I don't really decorate, though I do little things, but mostly the things that are supposed to be finishing touches, not my whole decoration deal. Sigh. Well, I came across this blog and realized that I am bonded to the place where I grew up. I can now see why my childhood friend still lives in the same house as her parents, only on the top floor. She, CAMILLE, must really have that old neighborhood in her blood. My problem is that I've spent so many years not recognizing it in my own. Oh, well. I need to be here. The Drake is here and his job of 30+ years is here, so for sure, he never would've come to Brooklyn, and by extension, we never would have conceived our Little Drake... so, God works in mysterious ways... as they say.

Happy neighbors are as valuable to your home as the amenities that fill it.

Greet a neighbor with kind words and they will extend their services to you; help a neighbor and you will make a friend.

The person who is obnoxious and rowdy always acts surprised when the police show up at his door.  He blames his neighbors for not ignoring him and says, "They are all snobs."  How blind!

Even if you are poor, keep your home clean and tidy, and you will win the same respect from your neighbors as do the rich.

Before beginning a building project at your home, make sure you can afford to finish it.  Otherwise, your neighbors will label you as a fool and despise the sight of your unfinished task.

Help the unfortunate next door, and the Lord put a fence around your home; give the poor substance, and the Lord will add to your bank account.

They greet you, quite often. It may be a bizarre "good evening, sir. how do you do?" or an abbreviated "doin'?", but there is generally some form of hello, which is uncommon in the people of the day.

I'm usually deep in thought while walking, and don't always acknowledge the greetings from this far-away land. By the time I work out that I have a mouth, the moment may have long since passed.

Beautiful night. A bit hot, slightly humid, with an array of clouds passing the moon. Dark in the center, fringed with silver on the outside. No camera could possibly capture that glory.

The Laurel Neighborhood

The Laurel neighborhood in Oakland is rich with culture and cute little homes. Tree lined streets remind me of quaint little towns in Michigan where I grew up. But with the Jazz festival and numerous other events, the Laurel neighborhood provides a small town feel with ethnic diversity and enriching artistic opportunities.  There is easy access to other areas such as Grand Lake, Lakeshore, Rockridge, Piedmont Avenue, Montclair, downtown Oakland, and San Francisco.  A casual car pool takes you to downtown San Francisco or allows you to pick up passengers and travel across the Bay Bridge to the city for free during rush hour in the car pool lane. There are also express bus lines that take you to and from San Francisco.

The Laurel has plenty of good eateries. My favorite is the Full House Café which is a very popular breakfast and lunch diner.  There is also a great coffee shop known as the World Ground Coffee which makes great Latte’s and has yummy baked goods and sandwiches.  They sometimes host local Jazz artists so you can listen to music while enjoying your Saturday afternoon coffee. Farmer Joe’s has a great selection of produce while the Food Mill offers a natural foods and health products.  Redwood Regional Park is close at hand for hiking or biking.  Do you have a dog?  Dog walking and baby strowlers are a common site in this area. It’s no wonder this little neighborhood is so desirable.

The House

Well here is your chance to live in the Laurel at an affordable starter home price. 3087 California Street is truly a little Jewel in the heart of the Laurel.  The present owners loved living here for the past 15 years. Their need for more space with a growing family is what is prompting their move.  They will, however, miss their neighbors, the Block Party, the holiday celebrations such as the 4th of July Breakfast, Christmas Party, and Ice Cream Social (especially enjoyed by the kids).  And they will also miss the quiet. In preparing the house for sale I visited after dark and was amazed by the sound of the crickets and how there was very little urban noise. 
Priced at $479,000 it will not last long. The interior was just painted and colors chosen by Angelisse Karol Color and Design. 

The living room boasts a fireplace with built-ins.  The dining area is open to the living room and separated by an arched detail.

The kitchen is full of charm with original cabinetry and a diner style breakfast nook which has a window out to the back yard. Off the kitchen is a laundry room and deck looking on to the back and side yards where you could sit and enjoy your morning coffee or evening cocktail. The back yard is large and very sunny. It would be the perfect location for a big vegetable garden or a lush paradise.

There is a good sized garage with a decent foundation and framing that could be easily converted to a studio or office space with French doors to the back yard and maybe a stone patio area. The possibilities are endless!  The 2 bedrooms have ample closet space. The bath was recently upgraded with new fixtures.  It’s a small house but it’s full of that California bungalow charm and character. 
If you would like more information on this house visit the web site at www.3087California.com.  I suggest you tour the home in person soon as I’m sure it will be sold in a short time at this price, on this street, in this neighborhood. 
Written and Edited by Dan Joy

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Its bar and parlor area is managed by its amiable and hospital bartender who introduced me (on my first visit) to the extremely entertaining Times article which became the subject of a previous post. The scene of this old world parlor is reminiscent of the time Jack Finney's character falls into when staying at the Dakota, a time when the expressions on our faces meant more than the superficiality of the modern world's hello. Though the regulars dominate the bar area and the conversations at times can appear exclusive, this crowd of Massachusetts dwellers is anything but exclusive and are always looking to expand their dialogue.

Now with this truly neighborhood feel, and I know that we throw that word around a lot here but this time is a time when that word is defined more than used, we cannot ignore the eating aspects of this establishment. Its menu is representative of the classic American restaurant featuring numerous fish items as well as an excellent burger. In my most recent visit I sampled the grilled salmon which was topped with a pineapple salsa and served with a saffron risotto. On another visit I enjoyed The Old Mill Burger and on more than one occasion have enjoyed their established wine list and excellent selection of local draft beers.

The Old Mill will remain as a local favorite for South Egremont but it should also be known to the rest of us who live outside of Massachusetts as at least one reason to venture outside of the culinary empire that is New York City to find an enjoyable and delicious meal. Terry Moore, its owner and chef, has created an excellent treat which is neither over the top for the wonderfully rustic feel of the old mill it is housed in nor is it too simple for a more sophisticated pallet, it is just right.

The Ranking (for explanation, see “Review Key”):

Food: 3 Straws (can’t complain, its a good, classic meal).

Price: $$$traws, Expensive price (about $30 or an appetizer, main course, and a glass of wine).

Atmosphere: A community atmosphere, very welcoming. I cannot speak for the restaurant itself, but as the review describes its parlor scene is very much the definition of a neighborhood meeting place.

Overall: 3 Straws (If you are ever traveling on Route 23, through South Egremont this has to be on your list of places to stop to eat. It is a town favorite as well as a favorite for all of the New York weekenders).

The Details:

Website: n/a

Location: 53 Main St, Route 23, South Egremont, Massachusetts 01258

Phone: (413) 528-1421

Reservation: No Need (in the parlor at least).

Dress: Casual.

Hours:

Sunday-Thursday: 5:00pm-9:30pm

Friday-Saturday: 5:00pm-10:00pm

WalkScore.com is teaming up with Transportation for America to gather an online petition to support alternative transportation in the 2009 Transportation bill in Congress.

Transportation for America has a strong vision for national transportation policy: build world-class rail-based mass transit, repair and maintain the highways and bridges we have, and improve our health by investing in walking and bicycling infrastructure.

Here's the pitch from WalkScore:

We need your help to create more walkable neighborhoods. Please forward this petition to your friends who support walking, biking, and transit:
http://www.walkscore.com/transportation-bill.shtml

The 2009 Transportation Bill is a once-in-a-decade opportunity. Walk Score will hand-deliver the list of supporters to Congress on foot, on bike, on bus, and on subway.

Thanks for your support!
The Walk Score Team
www.walkscore.com

If you haven't checked out WalkScore.com yet, take a minute. They have a simple web site that ranks cities by walkability (Kansas City ranked 34th). If you have an extra minute, use their tool to recommend Independence, MO for their rankings.

THE LAST DROP of the critically acclaimed Stussy x Neighborhood Boneyards collection will be dropping this following week and will be a MIDNIGHT release. Exclusively at Stussy DC as well as all other Stussy Chapter store Location.

THESE SHITS ARE ILL!!! Pictures definitely do not do these justice!

COME CHECK STUSSY DC FOR OUT MIDNIGHT EVENT!

When I lived in New York City, I didn’t hang out in East Harlem or Washington Heights, the Hispanic areas of town. I was much more into Greenwich Village.

When I lived in Los Angeles, I didn’t feel at home in East LA, the heavily Latino-ized section of the city. I was more likely to be found in Los Feliz, which is Spanish in name more than in constituency.

So when it comes down to it, maybe I am low-level hipster more than hardcore Hispanic. Still, my old neighborhood in my hometown, an area where I lived from the ages of five to eleven, still appeals to me. But I wonder if it is the siren call of nostalgia rather than the place’s inherent charm.

It’s been almost thirty years since I left there. It was, and remains, predominately Hispanic, and can arguably be called a barrio.

The place was rather seedy back in the day, although not homicidally dangerous. It has gotten noticeably better in the intervening years. Still, the improvement is so modest that it stuns me to realize it is the culmination of decades of progress and social activism.

The people who live there have worked very hard – planting trees and painting houses and opening businesses and forming block parties – yet it looks much the same to me. Again, it’s nicer, with far less tagging on the garages and more flowers in the park and fewer suspicious characters hanging out on stoops. But it doesn’t have the resplendent charm of what most Americans would call “a nice neighborhood.”

Is this because large-scale changes take decades, and I should wait and see what 2040 brings to the place? Or is gradual improvement the best that can be asked of an area that was economically disadvantaged for so long that it simply can’t catch up to the more vibrant parts of the city? Or are Hispanics too lazy and stupid to make things better?

That last option was just to see if you’re still reading.

I have no idea why my old neighborhood seems to have plateaued at a merely “pretty good” stage. I also don’t know if it will improve, stagnate, or decline. 

But I will keep an eye out for changes. On average, a couple of times a year, I still walk down the streets I explored as a kid. This is because whenever I am back visiting my hometown, I end up there.

I don’t set out to visit the neighborhood. After all, I’m not in touch with anybody I knew there, and most of the places I remember are gone. But between jaunts to my friends’ suburban houses and escapades around my adolescent stomping grounds and visits to random parts of the city for impromptu errands, I inevitably end up, even if it’s fleetingly, back on the streets of my childhood.

I’m tempted to call this karma or the pull of destiny. In truth, I think it’s because my hometown just isn’t that big.

So there I am, heading down the street where El Sombrero restaurant used to be, or walking through the park where we had Little League games, or passing the corner where that Spanish Cobra stole my Halloween candy (not all childhood memories are fond ones).

Decades ago, when we moved out of the neighborhood, my mother and I ended up in a nicer part of town. At my new school, I was one of the few Hispanics, and our neighbors were white, for the most part.

Some would call this selling out. Others may refer to it as movin’ on up.

I must admit that at the age of eleven, I had no terminology for it other than “I have to pack my stuff in boxes again.” But I remember that I didn’t really miss the old neighborhood.

Here is your last chance to get organized and clean out those closets before the seasons change to cold weather again....and make a few bucks in the process!

Please join your neighbors in hosting a garage sale

SEPTEMBER 11-14th, 2008

in conjunction with Brookside Village's Fall Subdivision-wide Garage Sales!

Leave a comment on this page giving your address and what types of stuff you'll be selling, or call us at 734-448-1312 and leave us a message. We are hoping to get at least 20 houses to support promoting it locally!