Welcome to My Neighborhood: Polish Flags Are Flying

As thousands of Poles gather in Warsaw to mourn the 96 victims of last week’s plane crash in Russia, Polish flags, some bearing black ribbons, have been unfurled around my neighborhood of Ridgewood, Queens, New York City.

Many years ago Ridgewood was predominately a neighborhood of German immigrants. It now appears pretty eclectic but with a heavy eastern European contingent, including a fair number of Poles.

There were not very many Polish flags in sight around the neighborhood a day or two after last week’s plane crash which claimed the life of Poland’s President and so many other Polish leaders. One by one, however, Polish flags, small and large, professionally crafted and drwan on paper with crayon and marker, started appearing in windows, hanging from windows, on cars, and hanging from staff’s tied to railings. Some of them have black ribbons of mourning tied to a grommet or to the top of a staff.

As a native West Virginian I resonated with last week’s mine disaster in West Virginia which claimed the lives of 29 miners. As much empathy as I feel for fellow Mountaineers who have lost family, friends and neighbors in that accident, I can barely imagine what Poles and Polish-Americans living here in Ridgewood must be feeling after losing not only a beloved President but many of their home nation’s Government, Military, Business and Church leaders.

Regardless of how you feel or think of President Obama, imagine Air Force One crashing not only with a beloved President aboard, but with Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Mitch McConnell, and Mike Pence onboard; with Robert Gates, General Mike Mullen, and General David H. Petraeus on board; with Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Oprah

Winfrey, and T. Boone Pickens on board; with the Reverend Dr Sharon Watkins, the Reverend Michael Livingston, the Reverend Dr Michael Kinnamon, and Most Reverend timothy M. Dolan aboard; and with over eighty other national leaders on board.

Such a loss of national talent and knowledge, not to mention the loss of life, would be devastating blow to our national energy, casting a temporary pall over our nation. I can only imagine that this is the reality being faced by Poland, a nation in mourning for some of its brightest and best. Like a phenix rising from the ashes, may the crowned white Eagle of Poland once again soar as the nation overcomes this tragedy.

Will the Real Lady Liberty Not Dance

It is income tax season, and that means, in my neighborhood, multiple Lady Liberty sightings. There is an income tax service in the neighborhood with “Liberty” in its name. During tax season they deploy men and women, dressed as the Statue of Liberty, to hand out promotional flyers. On cold, yucky days, I really feel for these folks, standing on street corners, trying to stay warm, most pedestrians ignoring and avoiding them. Today, as I walked back and forth from my home to the bank, I saw no less than three Statue of Liberty imposters, one of them dancing wildly. At least Lady Liberty’s boogie made the walk interesting.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: The Morning Walk (Part 4 – Myrtle Avenue)

Myrtle Avenue and Fresh Pond Road, at right angles to one another, are the main commercial avenues of Ridgewood. Fresh Pond runs north to south and Myrtle runs east to west. Their intersection at the southern terminus of Fresh Pond marks the boundary between the neighborhoods of Ridgewood and Glendale. If you were standing on this corner, however, you would not know it, as there are no signs or other makers identifying the boundary.

The sidewalk along the north side of Myrtle is a little cleaner this morning than usual (photo top right). Sometimes it can be quiet a mess and the sidewalk cleaner employed by the Myrtle Avenue Business Inmprovement District can barely keep up with the accumulating trash. Pushing along a large garbage can on wheels he picks up and sweeps refuse off the sidewalk. I imagine he must fill up the trash barrel once a block, if not more often. He is the other person, along with the two school crossing guards, I usually encounter while walking Myrrhlyn in the mornings. This being a Saturday, however, he must not be cleaning today because I do not see him.

As Myrrhlyn and I walk west along Myrtle, store owners are beginning to open for business, unlocking and raising the metal cage pull down barriers that protects them during the night. When I first moved to the neighborhood a little over two years ago I found these security measures a little intimidating, even fear producing, especially at night. During the day Myrtle Avenue is a hot bed of vehicular and pedestrian commercial and social activity and the metal cages are out of sight, rolled up above the store fronts. At night, however, when I walk along the street coming home from the subway late at night, I can feel like I live in an abandoned ghetto, like Newark after the riots, business locked up against looters. I am glad I am usually not walking along Myrtle late at night.

The closer we get to home the more familiar I am with the business we pass. We walk by my local Chase Bank on our right, with its ten language ATM’s in the lobby, Across the street on our left is our Post Office, where I sometimes wait in line for thirty minutes or more just to pick up a package. The smell of frying bacon greets us from a nearby Coffee Shop & Restaurant. Dunkin’ Donuts (photo second from top right), a popular stop for commuters, is across the street.

When we first moved to Ridgewood, before we unpacked the coffee pot and set up the kitchen, Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and donuts was our sustenance. While there are other coffee shops in the neighborhood in addition to Dunkin’ Donuts, there is no Starbucks close enough to walk to, so this morning, like most mornings, I will go home, grind Starbucks House Blend beans in the Braun grinder and make our own coffee. I am, after all, a Starbuck stockholder, so every time I drink a cup I feel like I am getting a return on my purchase.

As Myrrhlyn and I stroll along Myrtle Avenue we pass in and out of sun and shade. We walk in bright warming sunshine when the buildings across the street are low enough to allow the rising southern sun to reach the sidewalk. But when the buildings reach over two stories they block the morning rays and we walk in cooler shade. I prefer walking in the sunlight and I think Myrrhlyn does too.

As we approach Key Foods (thrird photo from top right), one of the grocery stores we frequent because it is one of the closest, I appreciate seeing the fresh cut flowers out front. The flower market was not offered when we moved here.

A boarded up store front juts out onto the side walk (fourth photo from top right) in front of us. The building is actually being renovated and the barrier provides a margin of safety as well as security. In spite of the recession the Ridgewood Myrtle Avenue business district near our home seems to be hanging on. Not many storefronts are empty and when a business closes it seems not to take long for a new one to open in the same space.

One of the new businesses that have opened in the past two years is Green Line Market (bottom photo right), where I usually shop no less than every other day and sometimes twice a day. When the sun shines on the fruit and vegetable bins lining the sidewalk outside, Green Line is the most colorful storefront in the neighborhood. Sometimes when I walk by I marvel at the various shapes, sizes and especially colors of the produce. There are a few other markets like this in the neighborhood and numerous ones throughout New York City, but Green Line is the nearest, and a new experience for me since I moved here. Until two years ago I was unfamiliar with such sidewalk fruit and vegetable venders but now they are one of my favorite parts of living in the city.

Not far from home we walk through and past the only public park along our walk, Myrtle Triangle Park. This morning the bench is empty but later in the day various locals will start sitting on it, occasionally throwing bread crumbs and other food for the pigeons. Unfortunately Myrrhlyn also likes those bread crumbs. Sometimes, on warmer nights, a homeless person will sleep on that bench.

Not far off to our right is Ridgewood Stamps and Coins with a storefront and signage that is a thow back to the 50's, not the most welcoming or inviting coin shop I have ever been in, and Eddie’s Hairstyling & Barbering, where Leo cuts my hair. We cross the street near Queens Wines and Liquors, which offers one of the best selection of wines in Queens and on Friday and Saturday evenings offers free tastings, and soon pass by our favorite Chinese restaurant. Next, we pass our favorite Chinese restaurant and take out, Mr. Chen’s, where owners, Ken and Emily, are the proud parents of newborn Grace, whom we have yet to meet. This early in the morning, however, most of these business are still closed. Only Queens Wines and Liquors has taken up its security gate. It is usually the first local business to open. Sometimes they will be unlocking when Myrrhlyn and I walk by in the mornings.

At the intersection of Myrtle Avenue and Forest Avenue we turn right and head north on Forest. Our morning circuit is almost complete and soon Myrrhlyn and I will be back home, thirty minutes after leaving. Myrrhlyn has done all that he has needed to do. Both he and I feel better.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: The Morning Walk (Part 3 – Fresh Pond Road)

The corner of 68th Avenue and Fresh Pond Road marks the halfway point of our usual morning walk. The corner is a transition from the generally clean and quiet residential one-way 68th Avenue to the often trashy, loud, commercial two-way thoroughfare of Fresh Pond Road. At the corner we turn right and head south along Fresh Pond. I have been walking this route over two years and still I do not know if there is a pond, or if it is fresh.

Fresh Pond Road is the other main north-south artery through Ridgewood, Forest Avenue being the other one, but it is a lot busier and more commercial than Forest. Had we turned north rather than south we would have reached the Fresh Pond station on the “M” line in just a few blocks. Fresh Pond is perhaps the part of our walk were we encounter the most people. During the week Myrrhlyn and I occasionally dodge pedestrians as we make our way along what can be a crowded sidewalk. On Saturday morning’s, however, and when school is not in session, few people are out and about.

When school is in session two School Crossing Guards make crossing the busy streets a little easier and safer. The two uniformed women, one a woman of color and the other Anglo, are usually the first two people I recognize on our walks. Someday I must stop and take the time to ask them their names.

Myrrhlyn finds another stick (top photo right). This one is not forked and so the leash does not tangled in it. With the stick in his mouth we pass Mr. Bagel and my mouth starts to water, as it does most mornings. When the weather is just right this bakery, and another one down the block, will prop open their doors, allowing the aroma of fresh baked bread, bagels, and coffee cakes to waft out onto the street. The aroma is the best advertizing money can’t buy. Since I always have Myrrhlyn in tow as I pass, however, I cannot enter to better smell, look, buy and eat.

Further south along Fresh Pond, we pass Catalpa Avenue feeding in from the southeast on our left. Today the sun shines brightly along the route, rising over what appears to be the end of the Avenue. Illuminated by the rising morning sun is the storefront (second photo from top right) of a “Spiritual Reader & Advisor.” A crystal ball, geodes, and candles sit on the inside sill and on the table (third photo from top right), a mixture of New Age and Roman Catholic spirituality with what I assume to be an Hispanic and Eastern European flavor. I wonder if this particular spiritual entrepreneur can read paws and advise Myrrhlyn. If you are a human and your spirit does not find sustenance with the Spiritual Reader & Advisor there is always Beata Bakery (bottom photo right), the second on our walk, next door, and the Polskie Delikatesy further down the block.

The city’s motorized street cleaner approaches from the north, behind us, as it does on many of our walks. The shape, size and speed of the street cleaning vehicle reminds me of a Zamboni and is usually the loudest vehicle we encounter along our morning walk. Marylyn is not particularly fond of it. He seems to be annoyed by it, especially when it kicks up dust. Occasionally we will see it stopped at a hydrant, its driver operator refilling the water tank, preparing to spray some more roadway before sweeping away debris.

As the street cleaner passes I look up to focus on something that catches my eye. It is a seagull, floating overhead, reminding me that I live on an island and that the Atlantic Ocean is only a few miles away to the south. Without the occasional gull and warm, humid air serving as sensory reminders, I could easily overlook the fact that I live in a coastal environment.

At the southern end of Fresh Pond, where the thoroughfare dead-end intersects with Myrtle Avenue, we reach the boundary of the neighborhoods of Ridgewood and Glendale and the end of the third leg of our morning walk. Turning our backs toward Glendale we pivot right onto Myrtle Avenue and head west, toward home.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: The Morning Walk (Part 2 - 68th Avenue)

Turning right off Forest Avenue onto 68th Avenue, Myrrhlyn and I walk east. With his teeth Myrrhlyn grabs a forked stick off the sidewalk (photo top right), chewing sticks being another of his passions. With stick in his mouth he struts down the sidewalk as if he just won the Best of Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, his new stick his trophy. After a few proud struts, however, the leash tangles in the fork of this wooden trophy and Myrrhlyn uncharacteristically abandons his prize after only a few more steps. This will not be the only stick Myrrhlyn retrieves this morning without anyone throwing it.

The sidewalk along 68th Avenue is quieter and cleaner than Myrtle Avenue. 68th is a one way Avenue, almost entirely residential, and we are walking against traffic, so no cars or busses will be sneaking up from behind. The only time excessive trash litters this route is after a breezy garbage day when the wind gathers debris and deposits it at will. Maybe that is why this part of our morning walk is my favorite. It is usually quiet and clean.

Continuing our stroll I begin hearing sounds of the “M,” a block or two away on our left. This is the same subway line that often carries me into Manhattan and brings me back home. Sometimes I have to transfer to the “J” to make it all the way into the city and back again. During rush hour, however, the “M” runs the whole way. I hardly ever ride the “M” between the Forest Avenue Station and its eastern terminus at Metropolitan Avenue.

The subway's volume and pitch rises as it approaches, and then, according to the laws of physics, lowers and fades as it passes. Without being able to see the elevated tracks I do not know if the train is headed east, toward Manhattan, or west, toward Metropolitan. In case there was any doubt, the sound of the subway reminds me that I live and walk in an urban environment.

An American flag hangs from the outside of a window (photo second from top right), as I think it usually does, its hem tucked between the bottom of the sash and the windowsill. Today, though, I notice that the upper window is decorated with vinyl peel and stick turkeys for Thanksgiving, the sort of holiday decorations that you might buy at Michel’s or K-Mart. More stars and stripes hang suspended from a pole a few doors down (third photo from top right). Many of the residents along 68th Avenue seem to take great pride in the neighborhood, keeping it clean, proclaiming their patriotism, and observing holidays with various decorations.


Even though most of the homes were originally identical row houses, they have been around long enough for the residents to undertake renovations. I could probably find and photograph enough unique doors on the front of these homes, doors of various woods adorned with brass ornamentation and cut glass inserts, to publish a door poster or door calendar, the sort that celebrate cities and historic neighborhoods. As I walk past these doors I wonder who lives on the other side and what lives they live. What language do they speak? What faith, if any, do they practice?

Occasionally I will see a parent before work delivering a son or daughter to child care or picking one up to take to school. Sometimes I will see older residents sweeping their sidewalk or putting out trash. But there are no familiar faces on this street, no one I remember seeing on a regular basis. Cities can be so anonymous.

When we reach where 68th Avenue dead ends at Fresh Pond Road we are at the halfway point of our walk. The municipal trash can at the corner offers me the first opportunity since we left home to dispose of any flourescent orange doggie bags I used along the way. I do because I did because Myrrhlyn did doo-doo as we walked along 68th Avenue. Now he feels better, and so do I.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: The Morning Walk (Part 1 - Forest Avenue)

This morning, like most mornings, Myrrhlyn and I walk our 1.1 mile circuit around the neighborhood. The walk, and its route, is our morning routine, unless it is raining. It is not raining this morning. The sky is blue and the the air crisp. Since it is Saturday, the neighborhood is fairly quiet and just waking up.

Heading north on Forest Avenue (photo top right) we safely cross the first of fourteen street crossings on our route. Some of the crossings are controlled by traffic lights with pedestrian signals, but some are not. Our first crossing is not, so we carefully look for oncoming traffic.

Not long after our first crossing Myrrhlyn finds a discarded tissue (photo second right from top) . Yes, it is gross; but Myrrhlyn has a thing for discarded white tissues and paper towels. It seems I am always stooping over to force open his mouth to pull them out. Today is no exception.

Forest Avenue is one of two major north-south traffic arteries in Ridgewood, almost dividing Ridgewood between east and west. Forest is not a major commercial street but it is a bus route. I can hear the gentle rise and fall of the light traffic noise until the louder and deeper hum of an MTA bus approaches us from the south and eventually overtakes and passes us. I am always embarrassed when Myrrhlyn decides to do his business near a bus stop of waiting commuters or next to a stopped bus with passengers looking on. He does not embarrass me this morning.

Myrrhlyn also has a thing for pigeons. If he sees any within five or ten feet ahead, as he does this morning, like a stalking wolf in the wild he slows his gate, slinks lower to the ground and tries to sneak up on them, lunging for them at the last possible moment. But he has never come close to actually catching one of these winged rats of the city so I am not too concerned about their safety or his.

During any given walk we sometimes encounter other dogs being walked by their owners. At times Myrrhlyn calmly ignores them. Once in awhile he gives them a passing glance and growl. Occasionally he barks up a frenzy, as if his world and very being is threatened. Today he is calm. Even when we cross the street in order to avoid a large dog and its owner who are approaching us he ignores them and does not make a murmur.

In addition to discarded tissues and pigeons my canine walking companion also has a thing for discarded food he finds on the street. I other words, my dog likes garbage, even chicken bones. As we near the end of the Myrtle Avenue segment of our walk, with the speed of light Myrrhlyn grabs something off the sidewalk and starts chewing it. By the time I open his cavernous mouth to remove what I discover is a small chicken bone, the bone is already near the back of his throat and I have to reach deep within to pull it out. I have lost count of how many such bones I have already pulled out of his chops these past few months. When will he learn? When will he stop?

Welcome to My Neighborhood: Subway

Sometimes I ride the Subway and sometimes I eat Subway. I usually do not eat national brand fast food. One of the few exceptions is Subway. Even before Jared lost all his weight I appreciated both the speed at which a Subway can prepare its subs as well as the fresh baked rolls from which those subs are made.

Being a creature of habit my tastes do not very much. I used to prefer the BMT on white bread but after becoming a little more health and weight conscious I now prefer a six-inch roast beef on honey oat, no toast, no cheese, with lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers, black olives, banana peppers, black pepper, oregano, and a little sweet onion dressing (one swipe). My wife’s favorite is a six inch turkey on hearty Italian, no toast, no cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onion, green pepper, black pepper, cucumbers, spinach, jalapeño peppers, oregano, parmesan cheese and vinegar. We usually get the meal deal with baked chips and soda (half Diet Coke, half Cherry Coke).

I regularly frequent three Subways. One is near where I work in Flushing. One is near where we kayak in Canarsie. The other is in Ridgewood, near where we live. Let me introduce you to the Subway in our neighborhood.

When my wife and I first moved to Ridgewood almost two years ago we frequented our local Subway franchise at 56-53 Myrtle Avenue (front view pictured top right) daily as we were unpacking. We went there so often our first few weeks and months in the neighborhood that some of the people that work there not only came to recognize us but remembered what we always ordered. They now miss us when we do not go there and when I show up by myself they ask about my wife.

The Subway at the corner of Myrtle Avenue and Seneca Avenue (corner view pictured middle right) in Ridgewood has been owned and managed for the past fourteen years by George. His wife Rose is his constant helper. Rose and George came to America from India twenty or twenty-five years ago. Felix, a young and recent hire, was also in the shop the most recent time I was there. That is Rose and Felix pictured bottom right. George was camera shy.

While I was in Subway a recent Sunday afternoon I witnessed a steady stream of customers effectively served by Rose and Felix taking the orders and making the sandwiches and George working the register. Perhaps those customers were drawn into the establishment by the aroma of the fresh baked bread, an enticing bouquet I could smell and appreciate from across the street as I approached. George and Rose provide five tables for eat-in customers and so can handle about twenty people in the corner shop, plus take-outs.

What George likes most about being in business in Ridgewood is that, in his words, Ridgewood is a “decent, peaceful, clean place where the people are nice.” He said he has had only one problem in his fourteen years in business but did not elaborate and I did not pursue with further questions.

When I asked him about his business philosophy, George replied “My business philosophy is similar to my philosophy of life. Open on time. Keep the shop spotlessly clean. Do your best. Leave the deserts to God.” As George spoke in clear, thoughtful, well articulated but slightly accented English about his business philosophy and philosophy of life, comments spiced with religious and spiritual morsels of wisdom, I could almost imagine that I was sitting across the table conversing with a slightly older Deepak Chopra.

When I asked George how the current recession was affecting his business he sounded like a British economist bullish on America, citing unemployment trends and putting a positive spin on them. He sees the current recession as a passing storm, a storm we will weather, and a storm that will clear by the end of the year if not in the near future. While his shop’s profitability is down he has not noticed a reduction in customer traffic.

If George could communicate one thing to potential customers that are not acquainted with Subway in general or his Subway franchise in particular, it is that the food is fresh, non fattening and that “tasting is believing”. I’ll eat to that!

Welcome to My Neighborhood: Sunday in the Park

If you ask almost anyone what park they associate with New York City they will undoubtedly answer “Central Park”. Yet there are numerous other smaller parks scattered throughout the five boroughs, including several in Ridgewood, all maintained by the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation. I was walking through the neighborhood Sunday afternoon, probably the fist sunny afternoon in two or three weeks, and noticed that there seemed to be more people than usual sitting in some of the neighborhood’s small parks. The two I passed were Ridgewood Veterans Triangle (pictured top row) and Clemens Triangle (pictured second row).






















I have probably lost count of the numerous times I have walked past and through these parks without stopping to read the signage. The placards tell the story of the park as well as the people and history associated with it, including nearby buildings and businesses.

The unknown and untold stories are the life narratives of the people in the parks. Each person standing or sitting on a bench in the park is a living human document with hopes, fears, relationships, memories and expectations. Each and every one of them must have a story to tell. I wonder if they are native to Ridgewood or moved here from someplace else in New York, or like me from another state, or perhaps from another country. What have they been doing since they woke this morning? What are their plans for the rest of the day?






















In parks, on sidewalks, while riding the subway, and while eating in a restaurants, New Yorkers encounter countless strangers that we never risk getting to know. Every once in a while a chance encounter might prompt us to exchange a friendly greeting, maybe even strike up a conversation about the weather, sports, or our dysfunctional state senate, but for the most part we remain anonymous neighbors, faces in the crowd.

As I meander up and down the sidewalks of Ridgewood I occasionally glimpse people I have seen before, either sitting on the same bench, frequenting the same business, or walking back and forth to work around the same time that I usually walk the dog. What if I stopped to not only say hello but to ask the person’s name and strike up a conversation? Would I be labeled weird? Crazy? A stalker? Strange? Arrested for solicitation or disturbing the peace?

In a small town almost everyone knows something about everyone else, but not in a large city. Yet in many ways Ridgewood, and I imagine many of the other neighborhoods in the outer boroughs, is like a small town surrounded by a large city. Why must we remain anonymous?

Welcome to My Neighborhood: Ridgewood Memorial Day Parade

People who have not lived in New York City probably think it is one huge nameless, faceless, mass of humanity. At least that is what I used to think until I moved here nearly two years ago. In the past twenty months I have learned that the New York City is really a bunch of little cities, communities and neighborhoods. I know that Ridgewood is not unique, but Ridgewood is what I know best. Earlier today, if I had not known better, I would have thought I was in small town America, not a neighborhood of the largest borough of the country’s largest city.

Sitting inside the house I could hear the drumbeats even as they were approaching from blocks away. As soon as I realized that what I was hearing was the sound of marching bands in a Memorial Day parade processing eastwardly on Myrtle Avenue, I put the leash of my dog Hermes, grabbed my camera, and we went out to watch. The photo essay I have posted on Picasa is some of what I saw. There we no clowns in tiny cars or beauty queens on the backs of convertibles, no Shriners ridding mini bikes or floats promoting the latest whatever, just a lot of uniformed and plain clothed men and women, girls and boys, veterans and scouts displaying lots of American flags and pride as most of them marched in disciplined formation.

I think that in some ways what I watched could be considered part of the liturgy of civil religion minus the rhetoric. People were working to show their pride in being the mother, father, brother, sister, son or daughter of an American service man or service woman. Some of those marching were probably active duty. Some might have been ROTC. Many of them were probably children or grandchildren of immigrants, perhaps even the children or grandchildren of veterans who once fought and perhaps even died for another country, perhaps even a country at war with the United States. But today they were marching for America and as Americans to remember other Americans who made the ultimate sacrifice for this country.

Welcome To My Neighborhood: FIRE!

Rather than be awakened by my dog’s warm breath, cold nose, and incessant panting as usual this morning I was awakened by the sounds of sirens, more sirens than I am used to hearing. When my wife returned from walking our dog Hermes she told me there was a fire down the street and that I had better grab my camera and go take pictures for my blog.

The fire was a block away on 70th Ave. near the intersection of 60 La. Apparently there had been an electrical fire in a row house. I could smell a little smoke but could not see any. A free standing ladder reached from the street into a second floor window and a ladder truck’s ladder extended from the truck up to the roof. A few of New York’s finest would occasionally ascend up to the roof and descend back to the truck. The windows on the top (second) floor had all been knocked out.

While I remembered to grab my camera before leaving the house I forgot to grab paper and pencil and so could not take notes about what I saw, like the number of trucks, types of trucks, and first impressions. If a picture is worth a thousand words, you will have to read my photo essay of the pictures I took and posted on Picasa. My photos tell me that at least twelve unites responded, including 112, 124, 135, 140, 271, 277, 282, and 286.

From observation I learned that the various fire houses have nicknames, such a “Myrtle Turtles” for the house on Myrtle Avenue, and “House of Pain” for the house in or on Bushwick. My observations also left me with questions such as “What is a RAC Unit?” and “Why does a New City Fire Truck have a license plate from Montana?”

If you have been reading carefully you may have noted my non-sexist references to New York’s finest. I have refrained from calling them “fireman” and for a good reason. Near the conclusion of the photo essay you will notice a Lieutenant in a yellow turn-out gear. She seemed to have matters well in hand. She is just one of New York’s finest, women and men who stand guard to keep the greatest city in the world safe from fire and other emergencies.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: Fajitas Restaurant & Bar

This is the second installment in my series about people and businesses in my neighborhood of Ridgewood, Queens.

Unlike Leo and Eddie's Hairstyling and Barbering, which were here before my wife and I arrived in July 2007, Fajitas Sunrise Restaurant & Bar is a newcomer to the neighborhood. Twenty-one months ago an Italian restaurant occupied the space at 59-24 Myrtle Avenue and we enjoyed eating there. The food and service were always good but there never seemed to be many customers and we were disappointed when it closed down.

A few months later we started seeing activity in the building as it was being remolded. When Fajitas Sunrise Restaurant & Bar opened about a year ago we were some of the first customers. Because we have been happy and satisfied customers from the very beginning we have watched Fajitas Sunrise mature. We have tasted the menu as it has broadened. We have seen the addition of a full bar (the sangria is to die for). We have witnessed about three or four different menu formats. At times I have felt like I have been watching a neighborhood child grow into adolescence.

One of the owners and chef is Francisco Cruz (pictured third down). You will not see a lot of Francisco because he spends most of his time in the kitchen.
The manager and Bartender is Juan Manuel Gracia (pictured top and second), a constant smiling face behind the colorful and festive full service bar. I have not yet learned the names of all the wait staff and some have already come and gone, but the last time I was in, Alberto (left in the picture bottom left), Alejandra (bottom right) and Claudio (right in the picture bottom left) were on duty.

When I asked Juan what he liked most about the neighborhood he said that he liked the fact that Ridgewood was a quiet area and that the people in the neighborhood are polite and friendly. (Obviously he was thinking of my wife and I when he said that.)

How does he sum up his business philosophy? “I try to be nice and please the customer” he say. I think he succeeds.

If you have not yet eaten at Fajitas Sunrise, Juan wants you to come in and let him know how you like it.

It seems that the current recession has affected lunch traffic the most as well as weekday traffic but the weekends are still brisk and lively. Perhaps the live Mariachi Band on the weekends helps. Currently there is a happy hour
Monday to Friday 4-7 PM at the bar only and on Wednesdays you can
get tequila shots for $3 from 6-9 PM.

Every table receives a basket of Nacho’s with homemade chunky salsa and water service without having to ask. Before bringing a second basket of nachos the wait staff will ask if you want more.

My wife’s favorite dishes are the Ceviche de Camarón appetizer (Shrimp Ceviche in orange and lime juice, tomato, onion, cilantro, avocado and spices, $8.00) and Pollo Jalisco (Chicken cutlet in white wine, lime sauce, white rice and salad, $11.00). Her second most favorite is the Pollo Al Mojo de Ajo (Chicken cutlet in garlic sauce, Mexican rice and Beans, $11.00). The Chicken dishes are perhaps some of the healthiest at Fajitas Sunrise because they use only fresh chicken and therefore do not need to add oil when cooking it.

I too like the Ceviche de Camarón as well as the Aquacate Relleno appetizer (Half avocado stuffed with cooked shrimp and spice, $7.00). I also like the Pollo Jalisco and Pollo Al Mojo de Ajo as well as the Pescado Al Mojo de Ajo (Fish in garlic sauce served with Mexican rice and salad, $15.00) and the Burritos (two for $11.00), Combo Sunrise (Shredded beef burrito, shredded chicken enchilada, and ground beef taco, $11.00). The portions are so
generous, and we are not big eaters, so we rarely have room left for desert,
but when we do we usually split some Flan ($4.50), Alaska Fried Ice Cream ($5.00) or Tres Leches ($4.50).

Fajitas Sunrise is no fast food or Tex-Mex eatery. At Fajitas Sunrise cheese is a garnish artistically complimenting well presented meals, not a main course. Spices and flavorings are subtle and varied, not overwhelmed by cheese or tomatoes. The atmosphere is casual but with a touch of elegance. The wait staff is friendly, courteous and will do their best to explain the menu.

Juan estimates that about 80% of his customers are not Hispanic but during one recent visit it seemed that my wife and I were the only non-Hispanics in the house, and we loved it. We felt like we had been transported to Mexico and were being given the royal welcome. At other times the clientele has been more mixed, just like the Ridgewood neighborhood we live in.

For other customer reviews, visit yelp and urbanspoon.

Welcome to My Neighborhood: Eddie’s Hairstyling and Barbering

In the header of my blog I proclaim that Summit to Shore includes theological and philosophical reflections on everything between summit to shore, including the Queens neighborhood of Ridgewood. Starting with this post I intend to begin focusing a little more on my neighborhood of Ridgewood than I have heretofore, especially some of the business and people in the neighborhood. Heaven knows, during the current recession, entrepreneurs need all the help and free exposure than can get.

Why blog about my neighborhood? I take my cue from another Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) Minister, now deceased, by the name of Mister Rogers.

For the record I only live in Ridgewood. I generally work in the Queens neighborhood of Flushing and in the Manhattan neighborhood of SoHo. I have lived in Ridgewood, and New York, since the end of July 2007. I do most of my shopping in the Ridhewood neighborhood and regularly walk our dog Hermes around its streets. In the process I have come to know some of the local business people and some of their employees.

The first business I welcome to my neighborhood is Eddie’s Hairstyling and Barbering (pictured top right), located at 59-11 71st Avenue, owned by Leo. Leo bought the business from Eddie in 2005. The phone number is 718-628-6028. Currently there is no website but the Leo is planning to have one real soon.

Leo started barbering at the young age of 16 and worked at various shops and salons before coming to Ridgewood. The last time I visited in his shop he was training his younger brother to possibly enter the trade. What he likes most about the neighborhood is its diversity. You can read some of my own reflections about this diversity in an earlier post. As proof of Leo's admiration of diversity, Eddie’s is a multi-lingual barbershop where I have heard Leo and his two employees speak languages I do not understand.

For Leo, barbering is not just a job but a profession. When I asked him to sum up his business philosophy he talked about haircuts being works of art. He invites both men and women to come in and experience for themselves how he and the two other barbers/stylists that work for him will listen to the customer to provide the style/cut . . . or work of art . . . they desire. His prices are reasonable and his service outstanding. I know because I am one of his satisfied customers.

The current recession has really been cutting (is that a pun?) into Leo’s bottom line as he has experienced about a 40% reduction in business as customers seem to be coming in less frequently, apparently cutting their own hair and their children’s hair at home.

Speaking of home, Leo provides a unique service. He makes house calls! By appointment he will bring the tools of his trade (pictured bottom right) to the homes of elderly men that are unable to come to Leo at Eddie’s. Talk about service! Talk about caring for his customers!

In addition to creating works of art on the human head and face (he will trim beards, mustaches and eyebrows), Leo also sells various hair care products, beverages, jewelry, and phone cards to his customers. While sitting in his chair or waiting for service customers may also watch Direct TV on one of several screens strategically placed around his shop.

Leo, welcome to my neighborhood. On the other hand, since you have owned a business here longer than I have been living here, maybe you should be welcoming me.