We all become amateur historians whenever we marvel at the societal transformation of the last 100 or even 20 years. These changes progress mostly in fits and starts catalyzed in periods of years, months, or even days.
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One summer evening in 1979, while cruising down Suffolk Avenue, in my hometown on Long Island, the muffler of my parents’ green Plymouth Satellite station wagon began to make an awful racket. Undeterred, I sipped from the Miller bottle between my legs, smoked the bowl that had just arrived from the backseat, and dialed up Shattered by the Rolling Stones on WBAB.
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In your kitchen, people dressed as animals, superheroes, movie stars and politicians meander about. They inspect pantries, run appliances, open windows, shut doors, and turn off lights. Someone disguised as Andrew Cuomo is taking a bath in your stainless steel double sink. You activate the inverted caret tattooed to his neck and discover that it’s your neighbor Bill.
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I remember when it was not safe to play in countless parks or playgrounds, I remember the lingering odor from 9/11, I remember my colleagues’ expressions waiting for their phones to ring in 2009, and I remember how Brooklynites came together to help after Sandy.
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The younger you are, the slower time seems to pass. Sadly, the opposite is also true. This is an illusion, of course, but it feels real. Below are two theories about the phenomena of age, experience, and time. The first is simple arithmetic.
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I’ve been told (read: warned) by other parents that it won’t last. That adolescence is right around the corner and that, “they change.” All I can say is that I plan on doing everything I can to keep the mutual respect train running on time.
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We made eye contact and then burst out laughing. When the train arrived, with a nod towards each other, we boarded different subway cars. At my stop in Crown Heights, there she was again. Shaking her head and laughing.
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Shop local. Wow! Maybe it’s just me but I love walking into a store or restaurant and hearing, “Hi Jim, nice to see you again. Your usual?” Not only will you be supporting your community economy, you’re bound to meet more neighbors to greet (see no. 1) in the process.
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This gave me the opportunity to play at something that rarely causes an injury - simple statistics. I started using my brain and collected data to nail down how often I actually get picked up on time (this also doubled as a great distraction while waiting for my ride).
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Sitting on the bench in front was Zayle and her dog, Puff. I couldn’t pass without giving Puff a pet. Zayle and I chatted about nothing in particular and regarded Nostrand Avenue as it passed us by.
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