I haven’t raced in six months and a day, and the Gaza 5K was the perfect way to ease back in. The emphasis of this race is on fundraising (to support community mental health services for kids in Gaza) and community. It doesn’t start on time, the course isn’t accurately measured, there are no mile markers, and the chaotic starting area is crowded with kids and strollers – but so what? How many other races do you know that culminate in a dabke dance party? Continue reading
Warning: this post contains misogynist and racist language.
Spring has sprung, the trails in Prospect Park are clear of snow, daffodils are beginning to bloom, phoebes and kinglets are back . . . filling me with weariness as I look ahead to more encounters with the owners of off-leash dogs. Continue reading
In honor of the Frida Kahlo exhibit currently on display at the Brooklyn Museum, I present . . . this strange and unsettling mural in Prospect Heights (on Park between Vanderbilt and Underhill).
While I’m not actually a huge fan of Kahlo’s art, and am bemused by the cult-like following that’s sprung up around her, there’s no denying her creativity, her capacity for self-invention, and the fascination of her too-short life. This mural honors all those things, I think.
There’s something special about urban raptors. To catch a glimpse of a soaring turkey vulture from the F train, to see a peregrine falcon in a high-speed dive, or to watch red-tailed hawks perch on a fire escape is to be reminded that there’s an older, fiercer, wilder city within the city. Continue reading
There are certain naming conventions for bodegas. Initials are popular (“L&L Grocery Deli”); so are street numbers (“513 Deli & Grill”). Many bodega names pay tribute to the owners’ city or region of origin (witness the Punjab and Himalayan groceries in Kensington, or the Pueblas, Cholulas and Chinantlas scattered across the borough). In gentrified neighborhoods, bodegas often incorporate “gourmet,” “organic,” or “fresh” into their signage – even as their shelves overflow with Doritos and Red Bull.
This post pays tribute to bodegas that break with convention, adopting names that are especially evocative, sweet, retro or just plain odd.
A sampling follows. Continue reading
For you non-birders, “corvids” refers to members of the family Corvidae, which includes jays, magpies, crows and ravens. They’re smart and playful, often raucous, and you can find them in the most urban of environments. Blue jays gather in scrawny street trees; crows patrol city streets; and ravens, the wildest of them all, are presumed to nest on the roofs of old warehouses and factories along the South Brooklyn waterfront. (As far as I know, no one has actually discovered our ravens’ nest location, which is probably for the best. Let the mystery be.)
Yes, this is it: the famous, only-in-Brooklyn purveyor of Jewish deli that’s run by Yemeni Muslims and patronized mainly by African- and West Indian-Americans.
I stopped in for the first time a few weeks ago, and again yesterday. The location, near the A train, makes for a convenient refueling stop after birding trips to Jamaica Bay and the eastern-most reaches of Brooklyn. The verdict? Continue reading