Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
South Brooklyn Photo du Jour: Trim
Filed under: Area 51
From Union Street in Carroll Gardens.
Miss Heather
Crosstown Local Chicanery: Who Moved My Cheese?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Yesterday the Heathers took a day trip to south Brooklyn. Mr. Heather took the usual precaution and looked up the MTA service advisories for the almighty G before we left. All was clear, he said. The Mister is fanatical about such things. He loves structure and order.
This is unfortunate given the Crosstown Local is our subway line. The capricious nature of the G has taught me to take a certain Zen approach to rapid transit. Does a bunch of people berating the crappy service on said line at City Hall make a sound? No, not really. Does a subway entrance for the Crosstown Local unencumbered by tape mean there is service? Not necessarily. Anything goes on the G. It is a joy ride of the absurd, as you will see.
We ducked into the Smith and 9th entrance for the G at India Street. It was open for all to enter. This would lead a reasonable person to believe said platform was in service. But the Crosstown Local does not toe the line of reason; it was closed. So we schlepped to the Queens-bound platform. That’s where we were met with the following piece of transit-related hilarity.
Let’s think about this for a moment. If one is standing on the Queens-bound platform waiting for the Smith-9 St bound train on a Saturday afternoon at 2:30 p.m. what good does this annotated sign do— other than to confuse?
Miss Heather
Meet Steve
Filed under: Area 51
I found this flier on Columbia Street. Although I prefer to refrain from posting things non-north Brooklyn, I cannot stay silent when there is a dapper chat in need of a new home. As you can see, Steve comes appointed with a tuxedo, spats, and a jaunty bindi! He has a clean bill of health and is ready for the good life. Anyone out there willing to give it to him? If so contact Robert at the above phone number.
Miss Heather
Know Your Local Mortician: All Words, No Pictures
There are two ways a person can meet a mortician: as a client or as a neighbor. I for one (and I suspect I speak for a LOT of people when I write this) prefer the latter. Today I had the pleasure of bumping into one of my favorite Greenpointers. We’ll call her “Mattie”. Her husband (now deceased) operated one of the local funeral parlors right here in the Garden Spot.
I am reluctant to call Mattie a mensch for fear of the wrath I might incur from her (don’t mess with a morticienne, they’re dying for business), but if I had to pick someone to be my Greenpoint Fairy Godmother hands down it would be her. She can’t get around as well as she used to, but Mattie is sharp as a tack. Hence why she resumed a discussion we started a couple months ago (we had not seen each other in a while).
April 12, 2008, A.M., Greenpoint
Mattie: Did Mr. Heather (do something she really wants him to do)?
Miss H: No, but I have been on his ass for two months now. If he doesn’t do it soon, I’m going to wring his (excised) neck.
Mattie: (laughter)
Miss H: I thought you’d like to know about new business ahead of time.
Mattie: (more laughter)
Point #1: Morticians have a killer sense of humor.
April 12, 2008, P.M., Carroll Gardens
I parsed through more pictures of Greenpoint from the 1970’s and 80’s. I spy one with Mattie in it. I purchased it immediately because I want to surprise her with it (and a copy of a book she wants). Afterwards the Mister and I went to Fernando’s Foccacceria for dinner. We struck up a conversation with the family next to us: a husband and wife taking an elder out to dinner.
We talked neighborhoods. The husband used to live in Carroll Gardens, he and his wife moved Midwood. His mother (who they were taking to dinner and will be 99 years old this July) lives in Carroll Gardens. Then the inevitable question came:
Where do you live?
Miss H: Greenpoint.
Wife: That’s where my cleaning lady lives. On Nassau Avenue. It’s a very Polish neighborhood, yes?
Miss H: It depends, if you go north of Greenpoint Avenue it is largely Hispanic.
Husband: How did you find this place?
Miss H: After my husband and I got married we ate lunch here. You don’t get much good Italian where we live.
Wife: There’s Bamontes.
Miss H: Bamontes is very good, but I prefer Sicilian.
Wife and Husband: (nod knowingly)
Miss H: You might find these interesting. They’re some old photos I got of Greenpoint and Williamsburg.
(The husband, his wife and mother rifle through them.)
Husband: Do you know anyone in these pictures?
Miss H: As a matter of fact, I do.
I then pointed out Mattie and explained how I knew her.
Husband: What’s her last name?
I told him.
Husband: I know her.
Miss H: Really?
(drumroll)
My father’s business is selling caskets.
Ben Franklin was once quoted as saying:
In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.
Death may be certain. God only knows it is a big business in this country. But in Brooklyn it walks in a very small circle. Which brings me to…
Point #2: I’d rather be sitting at a table next to a casket maker than be on a table in front of a casket maker.
Miss Heather
South Brooklyn Photos du Jour: Springtime Special
Filed under: Area 51
A long time ago a colleague of mine Flatbush Gardener objected to me referring to Cobble Hill, Boredom Hill, Carroll Gardens, Red Hook, etc., as being “south Brooklyn”. Although he brought up a very salient point, e.g.; there is much of Brooklyn to be found south of the previously mentioned neighborhoods, I care not to tread the minefield as to where said neighborhoods begin and end.
I read enough bullshit about neighborhood demarcations in north Brooklyn already*. Thus I have seen fit to refer to this area collectively as “south Brooklyn”. If for no other reason because if one lives in Greenpoint (as I do), the rest of our fine borough qualifies as being “south” anyway.
I mention the previous caveat because yesterday the Mister and I shook things up a bit. Not only did we sojourn outside of Greenpoint, but we hopped on the G train and walked around “south Brooklyn”. Follows are some photographs I took there. Enjoy!
Sunbathing on Court Street.
Horror vacui at 2nd Place.
Mixed signals at West 9th Street.
And a lovely sunset on Columbia Street.
Miss Heather
*If the local Realtors here are to be believed, Bushwick and Greenpoint are shrinking, but “Williamsburg” keeps getting bigger and bigger. Go figure.
Still Missing In Bed Stuy
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
Every time I see a flier like this (one which is located on Lewis Avenue just north of Fulton Street) my heart breaks. If you have any information about this wayward puppy, please contact his (or her) owner at the above phone number.
Miss Heather
Green Street: Then And Now
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
One of the things which has amazed me about some of the old photos of Greenpoint I acquired lately is how little some places have changed. Case in point: the Green Oaks Citizens Club.
Located at 179 Green Street, it looks little different now than it did thirty years ago. Those of you who are curious to know what the Green Oaks Citizen’s Club is all about, here’s an excerpt from their web site:
The Green Oaks Citizens Club officially recorded it’s charter on June 29, 1966. The club is a non-profit organization serving the community of Greenpoint for over 35 years by donating to worthy causes, holding fund raisers, serving as a conduit to local politicians, providing the clubroom to local block associations, and other civic meetings, sponsoring summer youth programs, assisting the children’s lunch program, providing monthly bus trip to Atlantic City for senior citizens, and sponsoring local softball, football and little league teams.
Here’s a couple of other fun facts I learned about this establishment:
- The club’s name hails from its original location at Green and Oakland Street. (Oakland Street is now known McGuinness Boulevard.)
- The more eagle-eyed among you might have noticed Green Street is also known as George Apen Street. This street was renamed to honor a former president of the Green Oaks Club.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Pay Phone du Jour: Carpe Diem
Filed under: Williamsburg
This motivational pay phone hails from Roebling Street.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Pay Phone du Jour: Nap Time
Filed under: Williamsburg
As a number of you are preparing to have fun this weekend be sure not to take it too far like this guy did.
Williamspoint_Greenburger (the contributor of the above photo) writes:
Here’s a lovely–REAL, NON-POSED–photo of a young gentleman sleeping on his backpack in a phonebooth. It was taken at 1:30 AM on an early Friday morning. He was conked out less than a block from an “L” train station, just across the street from an all-night bodega. How many people passed him by and did nothing? I called the cops, but I didn’t stick around to see them respond. I considered trying to wake the man. That–of course–is the only reason I took a flash photo. Since the flash did not wake him, I decided against physical contact, since he might misconstrue my intentions should he actually wake up. And being the considerate neighbor that I am, I ruled out shouting “HEY, WAKE THE FUCK UP BEFORE SOMEBODY RIPS YOU OFF, SHITHEAD!”
I submit the enclosed photo not as an object of derision, but as a cautionary example to my fellow North Brooklynites. Sleep indoors, gentle friends, or at least find one of those old-fashioned phone booths where you can prop yourself against the door and no one can open it.
I agree wholeheartedly. North Brooklynites, please use our public pay phones properly.
Miss Heather
P.S.: In all seriousness, my mind is reeling from the number of people I have seen strung out on heroin hereabouts the last two weeks.
Mordred Gets A New Sun Dress!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Miss Mordred the Greenpoint chihuahua is always on the cutting edge of fashion. Needless to say, yesterday’s lovely weather moved her to show off her new sun dress.
She apologized for the sad shape of her nails, she needed to make an appointment with her manicurist.
Nonetheless, she was quite ladylike.
Inasmuch is that is possible for a dog, that is.
Miss Heather
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