More Life in Brooklyn

According to the winter issue of BKLYN magazine, Brooklyn, N.Y., barkeep Andy Heidel has drawn a line in the sawdust, posting the following on recent Sundays outside the Patio Lounge in Park Slope:

“THE STROLLER MANIFESTO”
“What is it with people bringing their kids into bars? What, just because there’s no more smoking, it’s okay? I’m sorry, it isn’t. A bar is a place for adults to kick back and relax. How can you do that with a toddler running around or crying, getting changed on the table next to you, or being breast-fed? And is a bar really the kind of environment a child should be exposed to? I know in Europe it is commonplace, but hey — this is America, baby. Besides, bars are “21 and over.” Just because a 5-year-old obviously won’t get served, it doesn’t mean they should be in there. And don’t get me started about the strollers blocking access to the bar, seating, and the looks I get when I ask someone to move their stroller because it is obviously in the way of not only me but also everyone else. Doublewide strollers are the bane of Park Slope…

…I’m sick of kids and strollers in bars, and so are a lot of other people. If you can’t find a sitter and have to go out with your child, for the love of god, go to a family restaurant like Two Boots or the Tea Lounge, for I declare today and all future Sundays, Stroller Free.”

Babies Take Manhattan

Nanny’s pushing babies in strollers are everywhere in Brooklyn, we noticed soon after arriving here, so it was no surprise when the New York Times ran a story December 1 called “The Children Are Back” … “Babies Take Manhattan” a reference to a Leonard Cohen song.

After a decade of steady decline, the story goes, the number of children under 5 in Manhattan increased more than 26 percent from 2000 to 2004. The preschool population reached almost 97,000 in Manhattan alone last year, the most since the 1960’s. The growth seems to be at both ends of the economic spectrum…the growing number of immigrants…and professional families who apparently are wanting to avoid the daily commute into increasingly more expensive suburbs in the outer boroughs and New Jersey.

And…I would venture…the decision by younger educated career moms to balance out their lives closer to the workplace with one of the most important values in a person’s life….family. As for the increasing number of Mexican immigrants in the El Barrio of east side Manhattan…I am willing to bet there was never any question.

Museum Of Natural History

When we were in southern China last year we spent some time hiking and driving through parts of mountainous Yunnan Province that are populated primarily with, not Han Chinese, but with “minorities.” (Their word.) So when I saw that the museum was offering a special photo exposition of the Yi and Naxi peoples, we were off…walking on a gorgeous sunny day through Central Park to the museum on the west side.

A non-profit organization had given cheap point and shoot cameras to over 200 locals who were asked to take pictures of their surroundings and daily life…a project intended to be empowering for them. The project included a first exposition of the photos in their own towns…the Yi in their big black tri-tipped hats and the Naxi in their blue and white…and it was tear-jerking to see pictures of absolutely delighted people looking at photos of themselves…for many a first experience.

Minorities in China have always been brutally discriminated against by a country that has considered them to be subhuman. But now that the government has discovered that the colorful minorities have become a tourist attraction and can bring money into these areas…all of a sudden they are being given special status. High in the mountains of Guizhou Province, in a tiny Miao town during their New Years celebration, I was told by a young urban Han Chinese college student from Fujian Province that it was his “duty” to volunteer in the local school without pay because he had so much and the farming people here had so little opportunity.

Alice’s Restaurant At Carnegie

Last night Arlo Guthrie outdid himself in Carnegie Hall 40th anniversary of his song “Alice’s Restaurant.” Updated a little of course! What 50’s and 60’s folkie nostalgia with Pete Seeger (maybe in spirit) in the audience!

Arlo was preceeded onstage by the “Mammals,” a bluegrass band that included his musician son and daughter, who gave us a hilarious refrain about the “Bush Boys” in the long tradition of political folk-singing!

Arlo’s humorous home-spun wisdom and outstanding musicality was worth every penny and a trip into the city!

How To Impress The Inlaws

Thanksgiving morning Bob took off for the New York Athletic Club and his ritual Starbucks ice-coffee thinking we would have plenty of time to do the turkey before Amy arrived with her mother who was flying in from Denver at 5pm. Josh had to do turkey at the Tocqueville-his restaurant-of course.

Earlier that day I had watched Oprah make her favorite pomegranate martini so not wanting to miss something good-we indulged. But then Amy brought a bottle of my favorite whiskey-Makers Mark-and of course I had to have a glass or two. This is my excuse for a poor dried-out TG turkey!

Fearing the turkey wouldn’t get done in time I turned up the gas oven which resulted in every ounce of moisture being wrung out of the bird…leaving about three inches of grease and broth in the bottom of the cheezy aluminum pan. When I finally got my wits about me at about 8:30 and decided it was time to get the turkey out, Bob almost set himself on fire when spilled-over grease hit the bottom of the oven.

Thank goodness for Amy’s green-bean dish, her great grandmother’s corn-bread stuffing and her wonderful refrigerated pumpkin roll.

Thirty-Something Night

Our son, Greg, flew in from Las Vegas for a long weekend last weekend. It is the first time we have been with more than one of the progeny since I can remember…and was great fun…out to dinner at the Pearl Oyster in the West Village after a Staten Island Ferry trip…then a quintessential Manhattan cocktail bar that specializes in Russian vodkas.

Greg met some friends at a velvet rope club (meaning there is a dress code and you have to be accepted in). Amy and Josh, saying it wasn’t their thing, took off to meet some of their friends in a cubby-hole bar for cheap beer and wandered back to the apartment at 5am only to find Greg already asleep. There wasn’t enough room for all of Greg’s party so they split up…not knowing where they were going next. Greg, thinking this was too much work at the ripe old age of 38 had jumped in his own cab and took off for home.

Walking Cobble Hill in Brooklyn we found a “Neighborhoodie” store that sells t-shirts and sweatshirts with custom lettering. Greg had two made…a brown shirt with “Brooklyn Is Better” in baby blue lettering for Amy and a black shirt with “Innocent Bystander” in white. “Oh, but you have to put this under it,” said the young hip female clerk as she showed him a picture of a menacing black Uzi rifle! Which he did.

Another Country

I knew we were living in a country other than the U. S. A when I dropped into a Dunkin Donut shop (hey it’s been three years!) for a couple sugared donuts. “I’ll have two sugared donuts,” I said to the shop girl. “What?” she asked. “Two sugared donuts,” I repeated. Then again…rather impatiently…”what kind do you want?” Two sugared!” I said again, this time my voice in a slightly higher register. “Oh, shewwwgered!” she said. Usually this only happens in a city where English isn’t the first language…like Bangkok or Bombay…or Rome! But then there is also London…

New York City Marathon

It’s good to be back “home” in our apartment in Brooklyn from our trip to Washington. Early this morning we walked down a couple blocks to 4th Avenue to watch the NYC marathon runners….after we watched the winners finish on TV…a heart breaker. Fourth avenue seems strange now…empty of runners…full of smashed green paper cups and cop cars.

“Taxation Without Representation”

Taking a fast sleek train, we are visiting our country’s capitol city for a few days. “Taxation Without Representation” is written at the bottom of D.C. license plates here in the District of Columbia. Don’t know why DC’s fair citizens don’t have any representation in Congress, but we nevertheless enjoy their city.

The weather has been fantastic…sunny, clear and brisk. The trees have become a palette of fall colors. We are staying in a cute little Victorian bed and breakfast called Kalorama Guest House on Mintwood Place NW, (it’s on the web) around the corner from a slew of coffee shops (free internet at Tryst during the week) and ethnic restaurants full of thirty-somethings carrying computer bags and wearing official appearing ID tags. One overheard conversation: “…the working title of my book is The China Wars of 1871…” We think there are a lot of very highly educated people in this city but aren’t sure this is a good thing considering some of the policies coming out of this place.

But alas, our visit will be short. Tomorrow the Red Line of the clean plush subway train will take us from our neighborhood directly to Union Train Station…the most elegant we have seen anywhere in the world except maybe Victoria Station in Bombay..where we will catch our train back to Penn Station in Manhattan.

The gigantic government office buildings remind Bob and I of the utilitarian Nazi-built grey concrete buildings in the eastern sector of Berlin-what used to be East Germany. It occurs to me that at least our tax money hasn’t been spent on hegemonic architecture. But at least a few or more thousand people have jobs in this gigantic bureaucracy.

I spent two days at the National Archives digging up info on my great grandfather who spent 14 months in Confederate prisons, including Andersonville, while Bob roamed the city. We make fun of all the others walking around with cell phones glued to their ears but it’s a darn good thing we have them (cell phones and ears) or we’d still be looking for each other.

Revisionist history: Eisenhower was the first president to send “armed advisors” to Viet Nam. The last time I was in Washington I didn’t notice that the date engraved on the wall of the Vietnam War Memorial…1955… was the date indicating the first death. But the pentagon has revised this date twice in the eighties, explained the park service guide…upping it to sometime in the 60’s. But once a date is engraved you just can’t mark it out with a black marker, the guide wryly remarked…

The city, full of irony, was laid out by, of all people, the same Frenchman who designed modern Paris. The J. Edgar Hoover building is exactly across the street from the Robert F. Kennedy Justice Building-the two men, of course, hating each other during their tenures. Washington was in the south at the time of the civil war and a bridge crosses the Potomac River, at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, to connect the District of Columbia with Arlington Cemetery on land that was given the city by Robert E. Lee.

The Smithsonian Museums, set up by a foreign benefactor, are free and not to be missed. And the residence of the Vice-President was set up on U.S. Naval grounds in order to save taxpayer money by not having to build another palatial home.

But Bob and I looked at each other with not a little bewilderment when the hop-on- hop-off bus driver/tour guide told us that Washington D.C. had more species of trees than any other city in the world. We wondered how they figured this out.

Odetta

We had been years since we saw Odetta so when Bob read that she would be performing in a Village club we jumped at the chance to get tickets. She walked in dressed in a dramatic multi-colored red and purple silk and velvet gown and head dress…walked in very slowly and with help. She is still her inimitable self…but her weight is down to almost nothing and her songs were confined to softly sung spirituals. She is in her late 70’s and we worried about her health. The middle to late-aged folk-singing crowd laughed though when she cautioned everyone that in this day and age we should all be careful to use condoms!