The Milkman Cometh

Believe it or not I remember getting milk delivered to the house back in the early sixties. We lived in East New York on the border of Brooklyn and Queens where there was plenty of open space. Since I spent my first seven years growing up in Harlem when I arrived there I thought for sure we were in the country. The vast land provided a space of horse stables where riders could enjoy. Italian immigrant families had also doted the area with small houses where they grew olive and fruit trees, and the occasional chicken and goat. There was still a working farm nearby that delivered milk to our apartment in glass bottles. The cream would settle to the top so you would always have to shake it before drinking.

So I got a little nostalgic when I heard that the Manhattan Milk Company delivers milk to their customers in Manhattan and plan on expanding their business to Brooklyn and Queens. It’s amazing to watch as old ideas become new again. Maybe I should also tell you back then that a local bakery delivered bread and cakes and if you were very sick the doctor came to your house.


Here is their info or visit www.manhattanmilk.com/fact_sheet.html.

Ezra Jack Keats Awards

This Wednesday I attended one of my favorite events the Ezra Jack Keats Awards held at the main branch of the Public Library at Fifth Ave. These awards are given annually to an outstanding new writer and illustrator of picture books for children (age 9 and under) and are presented jointly by the New York Public Library and the Ezra Jack Keats Foundation. Ezra Jack Keats was a visionary who created multicultural characters ahead of his time like his classic book, A Snowy Day. He created The Ezra Jack Keats Foundation before he died in 1983. Now his long time friend Martin Pope and his wife, Lillie Pope and daughter Deborah Pope conti
nue to support his vision with special literary projects. Visit http://www.ezra-jack-keats.org/

Since I have not been to The Library at Fifth Ave and 42nd, St. in quite a few years I forgot how elegant it is. You know the one with the landmark lions guarding the entrance. The building is being renovated and the Smith Court Auditorium is beautiful. The Children Center is open to visitors. So if you get a chance do visit one of New York’s treasuries - http://www.nypl.org/locations/schwarzman.




The stories of the new authors are always special and inspiring. The New Writer Award was given to Tonya Cherie Hegamin for her book Most Loved in All the World. Tonya has this to say about her writing, “… for me, writing has been like falling in love - you're in it, you're out of it, and after a while, when you finally commit to it, you settle into a comfortable pattern that is solid and true.” Despite the tinge of sadness in her story, Most Loved in All the World she feels that the seed of hope pervades her story, “I wanted to write about the lengths mothers will go to for the sake of giving their children a better life. The mother in this long poem is a field slave on a big plantation by day, but at night she is a secret agent for the Underground Railroad. Mama makes a very special gift for her daughter so that even if they can't be together, her child will always remember how much she is loved.” Visit her website http://www.tonyacheriehegamin.com/.


The New Illustrator Award went to Taeeun Yoo for her work on Only a Witch Can Fly. Taeeun was born in Korea and received her MFA from the School of Visual Arts Illustration. The Foundation describes her work as exquisite. Check out her work at http://www.taeeunyoo.com/.

Coney Island in February

My niece Shakina and nephew Joshua keep asking me if they can go to the beach as soon as the sun shines through the window in the morning. They are sure it’s a good day for the beach when the sun is shinning so brightly. Try explaining to a two and four year old that this is not beach weather. They just think I am being unreasonable. Luckily, they have great imaginations and set up their own beach party in the hall with blankets, crackers and their favorite dolls and stuffed animals. Their antics remind me of my own experience finding out that a beach day in February is not a good thing. We were living in Cypress Hills in Brooklyn when my godmother who lived across from us came over with some great news. She had a car for the weekend and after she finished some errands we could go anywhere we wanted in the city. She told my godsister and I the choice was ours. After some discussion my god sister who was also my best friend confided in me that she really had her heart set on going to Coney Island. We rarely had the use of a car and without a car Coney Island was a long trip. So Coney Island it was! Of course, when we told my godmother our decision I could tell she was not happy. I know she probably gave us a hundred reasons why Coney Island in February was not the best decision but we were not listening. Neither did we listen to weather report – cold air arriving from Alaska. Coney Island! Coney Island! we shouted. She tried to persuade us to change our mind but we were not budging. Coney Island! Coney Island! So on a cold blistery day in February we headed out to Coney Island. By time we got there it was dark and over cast. To our surprise everything was closed and locked down. Coney Island was deserted. We asked my godmother to drive us around a couple times checking for any signs of life as we peered through the frosted windows. There were no bumper cars, carousel or cyclone. Finally she had enough, parked the car and said everyone out. “You wanted to go to Coney Island so here we are.” She directed us to the boardwalk for a nice cold walk in February. It was eerie walking on the empty boardwalk with the wind whipping across the sand and the ocean. We huddled together as we walked wondering what went wrong with our plan. When she thought we had enough of our winter excursion she led us over to the one beacon of light in the dark, Nathans. The only place opened all year long. As we enjoyed our franks and french fries in the car we had a good laugh and realized this was an experience we wouldn’t forget too soon.