Category Archives: Snapshot NYC

Tranquility

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Amidst the thresholds of Mother Nature and metropolis,
Together they are sisters holding hands.
Joggers revolve around this route,
Eagerly braiding in and out
Through patches of tourists from far and wide
Who in their confusion stroll the wrong side.
Bikers breeze the margins of the trail,
Forming space to all avail.
Meanwhile everywhere across this space
There exists a different place
Where traffic screeches and cries,
In agony of the hustle and bustle,
The skin and the muscle
Of all who trek and glide the bulky pavement
With not enough time and too much rent.
With places to go and people to see
With places to own and people to be.

Where dreams are devised and bestowed and destroyed
Where people walk fast and eyes avoid.
Yet people can marvel at sights enjoyed,
At buildings colossal and employed.

The sun filters through these two domains
The inseparable reign
Of peaceful moments and roaring buzz,
Of beauty and brilliance.

 

Crushed Lollipop in “The Big City”

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Next to the supermarket there’s a small delicatessen that has buckets full of small candies in the front. The candy ranges from chocolate and mints to gum and lollipops, and they cost anywhere from a nickel to a quarter apiece. A young boy (the child is a boy because this story reminds me of something similar that happened when I was much younger) was leaving the supermarket after having spent a big chunk of the afternoon shopping with his mother. On the way back to the car, he saw the buckets of candy and begged for a piece. After all, he felt that he deserved one after all the time he behaved in the supermarket. What growing boy wouldn’t feel the same way?

After browsing through all that was available to him, he decided upon the bright red, strawberry lollipop from the large bucket in the middle row. His mother had no problem parting with one quarter if it meant keeping her son happy until they got home, or wherever it was that they were going next. Unfortunately for the mother, “the best laid plans o’ mice and men go oft’ awry.”

As his mother took his hand to cross the lane to their parking spot, the boy ripped off the paper wrapper with pictures of dancing strawberries wearing sunglasses and baseball caps on it. Even though his mother had taught him that littering was bad for our planet, he threw the wrapper into the wind. As it fluttered away, the boy slipped the lollipop into his mouth and lodged it between his upper and lower pre-molars to get the strongest possible lick for the most flavor.

Standing at the rear of the car, the mother began loading the groceries into the trunk. The boy didn’t care about helping with the lifting; he was only interested in how swiftly he could “un-exist” the lollipop. After his mother finished, she shut the trunk and walked to side of the car. It was time to help her son into the child’s seat.

As she lifted her boy up-up-up, the lollipop was dislodged from his clenched teeth and flew from his mouth. Everything he had been working on for the past 10 minutes had been destroyed. All the intricate licking patterns, the reserved pockets of saliva for wetting the pop and the grinding motions on the pop’s edges to make it easier to hold were no more. The boy only fully realized what had happened in those few seconds he was lifted by his mother when he was plopped into the car.

The mother didn’t know what to do (considering it had already fallen to the ground). The five-second rule didn’t apply here since it had been at least ten seconds in her mind, and dirty cement trumps the possibility of picking up food. She didn’t want to go back to the store to buy another lollipop because they had places to go that afternoon. As the boy looked at his mother with tears rolling down his face, she smiled and promised to make it up to him next time. She sat in the driver’s seat, closed the doors, started the car and backed up. Then came a loud crunching sound that echoed from underneath the car.

As they drove away, the boy watched his red lollipop where it lay on the ground. It was supposed to have been his to finish. He had a relationship with this lollipop. He was supposed to have the enjoyment of the sweetness to its natural end. The car crushed all that. The boy stopped crying and the mother felt a little better. She said with affection that she would come back tomorrow and get him the whole bucket of pops. The boy realized it wouldn’t be the same, but he knew there would be other pops to enjoy to the end. He stared back at the red crystals as they drove off.

an evening in flatbush

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an evening in flatbush

what one doesn’t see
in my brooklyn sky
there are children and dogs
there is you, maybe
i am also here
but you don’t see me
up here

there are bodegas selling vegetables
that i don’t like
but they do have pineapples
that look quite spiffy when
properly attired

there are overpriced books and
there are illusive coffee smoothie drinks
but they cost three dollars

in an image
you can’t hear the sirens
they woop and holler
you can’t hear the creole
blasting from the churches
there are a lot of them
they sound… lively
lively isn’t a good word
sometimes
i fancy that they sound panicked
or perhaps earnest
they prove their faith by shouting it into the street
like the fellow in port authority
monday night

you can’t hear the couple arguing
on the second floor of that building
down the street

you can’t hear the director’s dog
one floor below
i wonder what it looks like
the rest of us aren’t allowed to have one
though

you don’t see the parents
towing tiny children
that can barely reach
their parent’s hand

you can’t see the construction
the houses and apt buildings
their faces ever-changing
their roofs never complete

i leave every weekend though
i go home
upstate

i wonder what i miss
i wonder what i don’t

i miss the brooklyn sunsets
the early evenings
the sky that robert mapplethorp could be painting

The Metallic Serpent

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Slithering through the night,

The creature speeds ahead.

Always such a grand sight,

From its tail up to its head.

The subterranean heartbeat,

Which keeps the city alive.

Is only made complete,

As long as the serpent survives.

The jungle of concrete,

Is the reptile’s home.

Sometimes hiding beneath the street,

Or not—the snake is free to roam.

The masses depend on it,

For day-to-day travels.

The animal leads the transit,

Sliding along the track’s ravels.

Never allowed to rest,

The being is always awake.

Greeting the lost, the weary, the stressed,

Comforting those who’s tired feet ache.

Most capitalize on its power,

Using it as a service.

The basilisk eagerly devours,

Yet no one seems to be nervous.

New Yorkers harmonize with the snake,

Its part is too crucial to be obscured.

Mutually, it’s a “give and take”,

The snake survives as the city matures.

But all through this,

The serpent is unfading.

It revels in bliss,

Always accepted, never degrading.

And so New York lives on,

While the train’s jaws cling to the track.

It rides past the stations—soon gone,

Moving forward and not looking back.

McDonald’s: The Juxtaposition of Violence and Service

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Employees of this building painted this sign years ago when the location first opened in hopes of portraying a future for the neighborhood founded on respect. The location fostered a great deal of economic success, and brought jobs to the area in a time of great prosperity. However, as things began to take a turn for the worse, this restaurant became the centerpiece of a neighborhood in need of revival.
McDonald’s, a restaurant associated with quick, barely edible, cheap food, lies nestled between the Brooklyn College campus and the Flatbush Avenue, Nostrand Avenue Junction. In this photograph, we see the famous golden arches, which are synonymous with McDonald’s across the country. We see barbed wire, hanging over a sign with the words: “Cleanliness, Service, and Quality.” These words, while not descriptive with the McDonald’s many people experience, apply even less to the establishment on Hillel Place.
The brutal reality of this image lies in the contrast between the violence and service at McDonald’s restaurants in Brooklyn. Just three weeks ago at this McDonald’s, a young man, 18 years old, was gunned down in broad daylight. Two other locations in East Flatbush have had similar instances in the past three months. These shootings have been motivated by police violence or gang activity, and only demoralize members of the community who have been fighting for change. Snapshot NYC forces to look at not only the beauty of New York City, but also the problems, which it will be our responsibility to address.
These acts of violence bring attention to the rampant negligence that occurs in certain lower income neighborhoods. Residents are forced to resort to fast food restaurants due to little or no access or means to purchase healthier food. These concerns lead to epidemics such as obesity, malnutrition, and fast food addiction. This photograph does not reveal the struggle of many of the employees of McDonald’s restaurant. Their struggle to feed themselves and a family on a wage of $7.25 an hour embodies the very essence of the lower class struggle. Therefore, when choosing a place to eat, families ask themselves, “Why pay more than $1 for a sandwich at a grocery store.” This epidemic of malnutrition is propagated by venues like McDonald’s and other standard fare at the Junction, such as Popeye’s, or Burger King.
This photograph does not portray the homeless man that holds the door open for you every night in hopes of getting a few spare nickels. Instead, this portrays symbols of an epidemic of violence. The gang tags, which lie beneath the mural, paint a picture of a group marking its territory. A seemingly useless strand of barbed wire guards the words emblazoned on the side of the building. However, this projects a powerful correlation between the violence of the neighborhood, contrasted against the ideas of cleanliness, service, and quality. Perhaps this symbolizes the future of America as a whole. While originally founded on an ideal of high aspirations, some have lost sight of what makes this country great. There are those protesting in Wall Street now trying to overcome the barriers they feel have been placed upon them. Just as there is great turmoil and contrast in this photograph, this same idea is reflected in the social climate of today’s America. There have been many great things accomplished, however, there are still many more to come.

Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and School

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Growing up with Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and School right around the block from me, it would be an understatement to say that they are two very familiar buildings. Although they are not as aesthetically appealing as other structures around Brooklyn, New York, they hold a lot of meaning for me. Serving as both a parishioner and a student for over 10 years has certainly influenced who I am today.

Save Brady’s Pond

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http://macaulay.cuny.edu/gallery/Snapshot-2011/Save-Brady-s-Pond

This is not your typical NYC scene. Brady's Pond marks the end of my street on Staten Island where I've lived my entire life. Recently, the pond has been threatened by pollution due to construction of a highway expansion. These signs have sprung up in surrounding areas as local residents and environmentalists protest the contamination of this rare environmental resource.