My Life In Brooklyn

On July 16 the Flatbush - Empire Ave Merchant’s Association (FEMA) held their annual street fair. 

I usually do a “walk about” though honestly I haven’t been inspired to buy anything.  However I was slightly tempted by a tee-shirt design this year, though decided it was way too hot to bother.

Anyway, so no traffic on that section of Flatbush, of course (from Empire to Parkside Ave) and after – I think it may have been 7 pm this year – the fair ends and status quo resumes.

On my street, however, there were 70+ people gathered in front of the drug dealers building and a party continued until midnight.  Mind you none of the drug dealers actually live in this building nor do the other party attendees, it is a gathering place that the police appear to allow.  I called the police three times, my neighbors called many times as well.  Nothing. Oh a couple cruisers drove by and I saw one even stop and chat, but not a word suggesting dispersal or toning down the noise.  Among other “activities” there was a loud and active dice game; and residual effects included lots of public urination, garbage, and broken bottles.  The party continued until well after midnight, in smaller but still notable numbers.  Since I went to bed I cannot say when it finally ended.  Below is a photo of a small part of the party:

Now the truck you see to the left in the image was strange.  First of all it is a filthy dump truck, a small one — not being judgemental here, that is the nature/function of such a truck.  However, at the end of the FEMA fair I watched some guys — presumably the truck owner(s) – load up all kinds of tables, food, cooking devices into it.  That white bit you can see at the top of the truck is a propane tank for cooking. Yeah, they were selling food at the street fair, caveat emptor people.  Once the truck was loaded they all joined the ongoing party.

I love that we get double-speak from the precinct.  Always telling us to call in when there are problems, and treating us like we are an annoyance or ignoring us when we do.

Thunbergia alata Sunrise Surprise, or Black-Eyed Susan Vine is fast becoming my favorite plant this season.  This is an annual, at least in this zone, and was described by Park seed as a sun-loving prolific bloomer and climber.  I need sun/heat hardy plants in the front yard and decided to test this one in a container.

A packet of ten seeds cost $2.50 from Park – I sowed them all in two large containers.  Of the ten seeds, about half germinated and are now growing profusely, four of the plants are in a container in the front yard, climbing on the iron fence, one plant is in the back yard using the chain link fence for support. 

The foliage is interesting, the leaves have an unusual stem.  I need to research it a little, I don’t think I have seen this particular morphology before.  Today the first blossom appeared.

Looking forward to seeing the “big bounty of rosy color” Park claims will appear as it continues to grow and blossom. As of this moment, this plant will be on the list for next season. Photo by Llewellyn.

A few days ago I wrote about the drug dealers on this street and the incident of Big Guy essentially breaking into the apartment, probably not for the first time and likely for “business” related dealings.

What I didn’t mention is that I later contacted the local precinct about it.  And not anonymously. And yeah I know about anonymous, but I also feel anonymous is a free pass to nonresponse in many cases. Sad to say I have zero confidence in the precinct.  Oh, there is a lot of rhetoric about people like myself, as citizens, calling in illegal activities.  But the verbal spew we hear from the police is, in general, far different from the actual response.  Neighbors tell me this particular corner has been a drug sales location for twenty years.

I don’t really wish to point a finger here.  All I can say is I reported this to the precinct on Friday.  And yesterday when I went to water the plants there was a big fat rat with a severed head lying under the spigot located on the side of the house in the driveway.  People in the neighborhood know I alone water the front yard plants.  Most people also know we have security cameras in the front of the house.  In the four plus years I have lived here I have never even seen a rat nor evidence of a rat.  So maybe I am being paranoid, but maybe I have been warned.

No rat photos, sorry but way too disgusting.

Another Associated story, I know it is my own fault for patronizing the place.

This time a quick trip to Associated market on Flatbush Avenue for a jar of Barilla pasta sauce, fettuccini, and a couple other items that are usually safe bets for purchase. Assuming you check expiration dates that is.

Returning home, I unpacked the groceries and noticed one more item was in the bag, which aroused my curiosity because I actually had already removed everything I bought.

Nothing says customer appreciation more than a partially eaten Tunnock’s Caramel Chocolate Wafer in your grocery bag.

Every year I’ve been adding more and more gardening containers to the ten-foot concrete and fenced in area that is called my front yard.  Yes, the pee tree out on the sidewalk offers a goodly space as well by way of the tree pit, but that is much riskier to work with, as it is necessary to dodge all kinds of cultural artifacts that appear within its boundary.  I keep adding more containers, fill them up with potting soil and try to encourage plants to grow.  It actually gives me a great deal of pleasure and often, in the cool of the evening, I sit on the stoop and enjoy the healthy green.

This was the situation Friday evening.  My husband LL and I sat on the stoop enjoying – well life I guess – when we noticed a big guy across the street duck into my neighbors yard and commence climbing over the scaffold that has been temporarily erected while the façade of his brownstone is being improved.

Allow me to mention that the building next to the scaffolded house is our “problem building.”  Drug dealers hang out there all day long peddling their wares, and though most do try to keep business hours, there are those on the night shift too.  They are a  noisy, profane, crew who are well organized, you can see the same cars (read: customers)  frequently stop to buy, characterized by the window-rattling bass playing on the car radios.  There is also a basketball hoop in front of this building, and though folks in Carroll Gardens received huge fines for flower barrels blocking the sidewalk, in our case the police seem to think this hoop is just fine.  Even when there is a rowdy game at two a.m.  The sidewalk space in front of Problem Building is also known to host impromptu dice games, all-night stoop parties and bar-be-cues. Aside from the noise/nuisance factor these events translate into garbage, broken bottles and our front yards used as urinals. This building contains a warehoused apartment (meaning it is empty and not being rented for some reason) on the first floor.  It’s been empty for quite a few months now. The only other fact worth mentioning is there is an alley between Problem Building and Scaffolded Building that is enclosed by a tall iron fence which is locked.

And so we sat on the stoop and watched Big Guy climb the scaffolding and deftly hop over into the alley. We didn’t think much of it because there are frequent incidents of basketballs being lost in that area and the fence climbing to retrieve the ball is fairly common.  But Big Guy didn’t look for a basketball at all.  Instead, two giant strides and a practiced leap had Big Guy standing on the concrete window sill of the warehoused apartment.  Another jump and we watched Big Guy dive head first into the empty apartment in what seemed to be an excellent gymnastics maneuver through the upper half of the window we now realized was open.  He was inside the empty apartment – Big Guy, mind you, does not live in Problem Building at all.

LL and I exchanged glances of pure astonishment.  There was a sense of admiration in the physical capability of Big Guy, but then he was also breaking and entering at the same time.  We watched, our eyes observing both the now open window top and the front door.  We waited 2-3 minutes, and though LL suggested perhaps all Big Guy really needed was a bathroom stop, he did emerge from the front door of Problem Building.  He glanced around, catching the eye of two lackeys, each did a quick look about to see who might be observing and they all entered the front door, presumably to utilize the empty apartment.  Perhaps for a shareholder’s meeting.

This is my life in Brooklyn.  One part of it anyway.