As of my last birthday (a couple of weeks ago), I have lived in this neighborhood more than half my life. I can barely keep the palimpsest of loss straight anymore. Chase was a children's furniture store; the expensive silk clothing store--now an empty storefront--was an auto supply store. Red Square was a gas station and, before that, a field of Queen Anne's Lace. And on and on it goes.
I walked on Second Avenue tonight and noticed a rather nondescript restaurant that was now closed, sign gone. I couldn't remember what was there. And I probably won't remember whatever replaced it was when it closes (or something...)...I've been tempted to take a photo of every single building on every single block...
My block alone--home of the first bagel bakery in the city--is unrecognizable and incredibly annoying, in part due to tourists and yunnies eating their takeout from Clinton Street Bakery on my stoop. I'm not the cranky old man from a Hard Day's Night*: Eat there if you must; just pick up your trash, please. *Not Paul's grandfather; the "We didn't hurt your field, mister" character.
Named Best Neighborhood Blog in the First Annual Village Voice Web Awards
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4 comments:
As of my last birthday (a couple of weeks ago), I have lived in this neighborhood more than half my life. I can barely keep the palimpsest of loss straight anymore. Chase was a children's furniture store; the expensive silk clothing store--now an empty storefront--was an auto supply store. Red Square was a gas station and, before that, a field of Queen Anne's Lace. And on and on it goes.
I walked on Second Avenue tonight and noticed a rather nondescript restaurant that was now closed, sign gone. I couldn't remember what was there. And I probably won't remember whatever replaced it was when it closes (or something...)...I've been tempted to take a photo of every single building on every single block...
My block alone--home of the first bagel bakery in the city--is unrecognizable and incredibly annoying, in part due to tourists and yunnies eating their takeout from Clinton Street Bakery on my stoop. I'm not the cranky old man from a Hard Day's Night*: Eat there if you must; just pick up your trash, please.
*Not Paul's grandfather; the "We didn't hurt your field, mister" character.
it's such an exhilarating feeling when scaffolding/sidewalk sheds are finally taken down.
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