http://www.edrants.com/window-on-main-street/ a cultural website in ever-shifting standing Wed, 08 Feb 2012 18:01:24 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 http://www.edrants.com/window-on-main-street/comment-page-1/#comment-235783 Neil Berger Tue, 29 May 2007 01:48:48 +0000 http://www.edrants.com/?p=6199#comment-235783 I taught English in East Flatbush in the sixties - first at Meyer Levin (my Eleven) and then at Tilden. As I mention in my blog, Thomas Wolfe was right: You Can't Go Home Again. A few people have tried writing about it, but the old neighborhood bears no resemblance to the East Flatbush of the 50's and 60's. Your stories keep popping up on my auto search for East Flatbush. I had a Richard Grayson in one of my English classes. At age 14 all he wanted to get out of was his own skin. Getting out of Brooklyn didn't enter into the equation until much later - coinciding with getting out of Brooklyn out of necessity. I write about East Flatbush because i want to chronical my youth, but I'm not angry or bitter about what has happened. And I hold out no hope for a rebirth of the neighborhood. It ain't no Slope or Heights, or even Williamsburg. The Rugby is dead; Silverrods is gone; and soon, even Tilden will be nothing but a vague memory. I taught English in East Flatbush in the sixties – first at Meyer Levin (my Eleven) and then at Tilden.
As I mention in my blog, Thomas Wolfe was right: You Can’t Go Home Again. A few people have tried writing about it, but the old neighborhood bears no resemblance to the East Flatbush of the 50′s and 60′s.
Your stories keep popping up on my auto search for East Flatbush. I had a Richard Grayson in one of my English classes. At age 14 all he wanted to get out of was his own skin. Getting out of Brooklyn didn’t enter into the equation until much later – coinciding with getting out of Brooklyn out of necessity.
I write about East Flatbush because i want to chronical my youth, but I’m not angry or bitter about what has happened. And I hold out no hope for a rebirth of the neighborhood. It ain’t no Slope or Heights, or even Williamsburg. The Rugby is dead; Silverrods is gone; and soon, even Tilden will be nothing but a vague memory.

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