Today, the New York Times has another of its ridiculous* “discovering Brooklyn” stories, sporting the absurd title Will.i.amsburg. (It has since been rebranded as “How I Became a Hipster” – as if you can do that by buying some flannel … Continue reading
Can you believe I forgot my blog’s birthday? I thought it was today. I’m such a bad person. I started The Weekly Nabe one year and one week ago. I kicked it off with the announcement of my intention to … Continue reading
Posted in Announcements
Tagged anniversary, Brooklyn history, Brownsville, Canarsie, DeKalb Av, Hurricane Sandy, Jamaica Bay, Manhattan Bridge, New York City subways, Paerdegat Basin, Red Hook, top posts
This gallery contains 16 photos.
I was disappointed by the lack of Sandy coverage in eastern Brooklyn, so I took matters into my own hands. Granted, these neighborhoods didn’t get hit as hard as, say, Red Hook and Coney Island – but Park Slope got … Continue reading
This gallery contains 42 photos.
I was surprised to find I took almost as many pictures as normal on my trip to Brownsville, despite my precautions. Here are some more.
I didn’t know what to expect for my trip to Brownsville. Would it feel like a ghost town? Would I hear gunfire? Would someone confront me? Or worse? Even though the Times had written on recent violence in the area, … Continue reading
Posted in Visit recaps
Tagged beef patties, BMT Canarsie Line, Brooklyn, Brownsville, carrot juice, IRT New Lots Line, Junius St-Livonia Av transfer, shoes on a wire, stained-glass windows, Twilight Zone, Week 13 - Brownsville
“Every New York Jew could feel certain about one thing: he was superior to anybody living in Brownsville.” – William Poster on the 1920s, as quoted by Wendell Pritchett Brownsville has at times been a place for waste-disposal, a tenement … Continue reading
I stayed with my parents in Vermont this week en route to my college reunion. My dad was born on Friday the 13th, so I thought it fitting that he select my next subject. He chose a neighborhood with a … Continue reading