I wonder if it is common for people (me) to reflect on memories at a state of transition in one's (my) life.
One of my favorite Brooklyn street memories was when I was walking to catch the N train in Park Slope on a hot summer day and some college girls were having a stoop sale. Only as I scanned the items I thought it odd much was snowboarding gear and some male T-shirts carefully hung on a rack. Then I saw a cardboard sign with chalk scawled on it, which read: 'Ex-Boyfriend Stuff: Best Offer'.
Another was when I decided our apartment was too small to keep all the cassette tapes we owned, especially when we had no cassette player. I filled up 2 empty, giant Tide soap boxes and put them by the curb. A generation of music, it was painful but necessary. The next day I saw the garbage organizer for our building ride away with them on his bike. He was among one of the old Puerto Ricans in south slope and had an old tape player duct-taped to the middle of the bike. A bike that also had a barbie, a flag, a bell, and several odd items taped to it. I still chuckle when I imagine him blasting Mike's Fugazi or my Pop Will Eat Itself as he happily rides away.
