I'm leaving in a few moments to spend the day in Brooklyn with the aunt and the cousin and the dog. These day trips are getting harder to do - my ankle is almost always swollen, I re-injured the back picking up Hope and I walk with such a tilt that I must look drunk.
And don't get me started on the emotional side of these trips. I prefer to just keep doing all I can to put the FUN in dysFUNction.
Anyhoo - I thought I'd share a few shots from a trip in late March.
Ya gotta take dah bridge and den dah pawkway
Once off the parkway you go around the golf course - where my son got hit in the head with a stray golf ball twice, they sometimes come flying through the trees and over the fence
Around the curve and toward Fort Hamilton. When I was a kid we used to walk around the grounds. As an adult I dated someone stationed there and got to go to the officers club and I had a parking permit and everything. Now it's gated and concrete barriers are everywhere. There isn't even a spot to pull over anymore, traffic must keep moving past. At the light I managed to grab a quick shot of the VA Hospital entrance and then I waited for the helicopters to shoot at me. As a teen I used to volunteer at the VA - so many kids I knew were in Viet Nam.
Once you're on "dah avenewe" pray not to be behind a bus. It doubles the trip time and you get to be surrounded by billows of black smoke. But hey! Don't light a cigarette, that might make someone sick. The bus travels along Cropsey Avenue. As kids we all called it Crapsey Avenue.
Many of the homes along Crapsey Avenue have these decorative additions. Fences with little columns and lattice work everywhere. And of course the Italian flag. You are now in Bensonhurst.
Unlike Bay Ridge the brownstones in Bensonhurst have not been taken care of. My middle school friend Cathy used to live here. We were best friends until she stole David away from me. Then we were mortal enemies. Cathy had a terrible motorcycle accident in high school but I'm glad to say she fully recovered after years of surgeries and rehab. She has three kids now and lives in New England. On the day I took this photo there was a boy starting up a car that looked so much like I remember David that I thought I had time travelled. David was killed in Viet Nam but for a moment it was as if he was saying hello. The boy in the car caught me staring and smiled. I told him his muscle car was "really beautiful" and then the Mom in me had to tell him to drive carefully.
I took this last shot through my windshield yet I still don't know how that reflection of a white car got into the right upper corner. Funny - David had a white car.
So I'm off now. Hopefully my next Brooklyn blast from the past post will have better photos. For some reason I'm always late when I get to Brooklyn and photo inspiration seems to leave me.