Day 97

I know Brownsville, Brooklyn well. When my father's father (who I never met) somehow gained enough cash he bought a building in Brownsville. The building was inherited by my Uncle Eli and his wife Aunt Esther. I was often sent to relatives to stay on school vacations.  Eli, was a gambler and small time bookie. He was also a slob and not a very nice guy. I did go to his funeral though where most of his visitors came form Off track betting. Anyway, the family stayed in Brownsville a mostly poor immigrant community until they moved in to one of the city housings on Coney Island. So I remember Brownsville with small houses.

I returned as an employee of NYU where I visited after school programs to see how they were implementing Head Start mandates. Brownsville was really changed all big uncared for buildings called "projects" all the small houses were gone. The stores had bullet proof glass windows. Streets were littered, don't know if trash came. And yet there were families and children who I assume wanted to survive. Probably it is worse now, not like gentrified Brooklyn. The sounds of Brownsville, are still in my ears and I wonder what would have happed if instead of those vast projects the smaller homes remained and people found gainful employment and healthy lives. Staying in Brownsville with my indolent Uncle Eli and his put upon Aunt Esther taught me somethings that are imprinted..

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