July 25, 1999
Back to NYC index

Today I explored more of Brooklyn. Originally I had planned to return a pair of pants on Montague Street, and then return to my roost in the hotel. But it was a lovely day, even if it did err on the hot side, and so I opted to walk south on Henry Street. My roommate had once told me that it was dangerous to do so, but after a few weeks I realized that as she had seen only a small part of the borough, her judgment was uninformed. It was that knowledge -- and curiosity, of course -- that set my course toward Carroll Gardens.

Brooklyn Heights is the first neighborhood past the bridge, and then there's Cobble Hill, and then Carroll Gardens. In Brooklyn Heights I walked past rows of stately brownstones that stopped only to let a side street exist, or to make room for a deli or soda shop. Dave's mix tape in my walkman provided a perfect soundtrack for my trek. If you ever have the chance to listen to Rufus Wainwright during a sunny Brooklyn Sunday, please don't pass it by. It makes the day speak with a lilting, happy drawl.

Somewhere between Cobble Hill and the Heights, I spotted a wonderful scene and took a picture of it. Actually, I spotted many wonderful scenes, but it's the one shown here that exemplifies what I love about Brooklyn. A red gas guzzler came purring down the street; it was driven by a man wearing a seersucker suit. The car stopped at the light, resting kitty corner from a corner deli. Some children stood outside the deli, licking runny popsicles that stained their lips. And for a moment, it was 1959: whitewall tires, green awnings, ice cream and all.