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Park Slope Life

Groundcycle

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life

When Vivian Lin learned about the composting process and how food scraps and organic waste could be used as a resource to add nutrients to the soil, she instantly channeled her energy into learning ways to close the gaps of food waste in her community. Within weeks, she shifted her career as a professional architect to boldly create an operation that seeks to divert waste, promote sustainability, and respect the earth, one bin at a time.

Nearly 25 percent of the food purchased by Americans is wasted, according to the NYC Department of Environmental Conservation, and when Brooklyn native Vivian Lin learned about a way to divert that waste, it changed the trajectory of her life.   

In April 2020, she joined environmentally-focused Earth month virtual events that delved into a wide spectrum of topics, yet conversations on the cycle of food production and composting specifically piqued her interest. 

The United States Environmental Protection Agency defines composting as a “controlled, aerobic (oxygen-required) process that converts organic materials into nutrient-rich, biologically stable soil amendment or mulch through natural decomposition.” 

She was shocked by how the staggering amount of food scraps and organic waste we produce could be diverted from landfills and used as a valuable resource instead. “Up until that point I had no idea how food was grown or how much work it takes and this whole cycle of how food waste can become fertilizer, it just blew my mind,” Lin said. 

An architect by trade, Lin shifted her focus from physical structures to investigate the infrastructures that processed organic waste into compost throughout NYC and discovered a noticeable gap. Days after her deep dive of compost research, the New York City Department of Sanitation coincidentally announced a suspension of curbside composting pickups due to budget cuts as a result of the pandemic. 

Moreover, farms were losing partnerships and distribution opportunities leaving an alarming amount of farm-produced fresh produce to rot in fields. Options to divert waste were dwindling for New Yorkers and farmers alike, but rather than accepting a dead-end, Lin seized the opportunity to forge her own path forward. Thus, Groundcycle was born. 

She contacted a few local farms and pitched an idea to bring them food scraps to use for compost as well as deliver their harvested fresh food to city dwellers. Once Garden of Eve Farm in Long Island and McEnroe Organic Farm in Millerton expressed interest in piloting the program, Lin eagerly reached out to family and friends to join her in closing the gap between produce and compost through a bin swap service. 

With 13 inaugural members on board, Groundcycle launched the first official bin swap on May 10th, 2020. The bin swap service delivers farm-fresh produce straight to your door in a 5-gallon bin and swaps it with your organic waste and food scraps which are processed and converted to compost at local farms. 

Lin’s resourcefulness and determination was crucial to overcome challenges in the early stages of Groundcycle’s operations, including recruiting friends to drive the bin swap routes because she didn’t know how to drive at the time. News spread in the following months and bin swap membership began to grow, with Park Slope residents accounting for the majority of members. 

Four years later, Groundcycle’s bin swap program has expanded to service over 300 members all across Brooklyn and Manhattan, diverting over 600,000 pounds of organic waste to date. In fact, Lin says she’s discovered new areas of the city for the first time since starting the service. “It’s been really beautiful for me as a lifelong New Yorker to discover all of these different pockets of Brooklyn,” Lin said. 

Groundcycle also continues to grow and evolve to promote sustainable practices by collecting food scraps and organic waste from businesses, offices, and events including large-scale events such as House of Yes’ Earth Love Fest and Cherry Bombe’s Jubilee.  Lin and her team ensure all edible food is reallocated to people who need it by filling community fridges across the city and distributing food items through other avenues of assistance.  

Before founding Groundcycle, Lin didn’t know where her food came from and hopes that by playing an active role in composting, others can feel more connected to the cycle of food production and cultivation by seeing how their food scraps can ultimately nourish the soil of the fresh produce they receive. 

“That’s how nature works,” she said, “you respect it and it will return something beautiful.” 

Respecting nature extends beyond food waste diversion and spills into every area of consumption and Groundcycle now partners with local zero waste stores like Maison Jar and Precycle to offer 

household and pantry essentials to bin swap members, thus reducing unnecessary packaging waste. Lin also works closely with florists around the city to repurpose and compost floral arrangements that would otherwise be tossed in the trash at the conclusion of events. 

When reflecting on the last four years, Lin notes how grateful she is for the community of other sustainably-minded people who want to collaborate and amplify different missions to close gaps of access in all areas. She’s teamed up with a variety of organizations to host donation drives of hygiene items, winter coats, shoes, and other items to reallocate resources to people in need of assistance.  

Lin encourages people who are curious about living more sustainably to not be afraid to start, even if that means bringing a reusable bag to the grocery store or freezing your food scraps from dinner instead of throwing them away.  

“It really does start small,” she said. “As soon as you start making those little changes and you feel good about it, you’re really motivated to do more.” 

If you’re interested in getting involved with Groundcycle’s mission to close the gap of produce and compost in Park Slope and beyond, visit groundcycle.org and @_groundcycle on Instagram. 

“Because composting is so universal, everybody can play a part,” Lin said. 

The Bunny of Park Slope

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life

I see the bunny on a Tuesday morning just past the park’s entrance on 9th street and Prospect Park West. He’s heading toward the playground but takes a sharp left and continues on through the traffic of people and bicycles. I can’t keep up with him.

“Ma,” I’m screaming into the phone with the wind still blowing, Brooklyn never wants to loosen its grip on winter. But the wind wants to go. After all, there’s a bunny here! A sure sign of spring. 

“What’s wrong?” My mother is on the other side of the country, chomping a bagel out on her balcony. She’s in curlers and a nightgown. I know this because even though I’m in Park Slope and she’s in Palo Alto where it’s three hours earlier, my mother has eaten a bagel in her nightgown and curlers every morning for the past forty-three years. 

“Ma, you’re not gonna believe this! I’m chasing a bunny through Prospect Park!”

“You’re chasing a what?” I can hear the crumbs spray off my mother’s lips as she reaches for her mug of milky coffee.

“A bunny, ma, a bunny.”

“What the hell are you talking about? There are no bunnies in Brooklyn.” 

I don’t know why my mother isn’t sitting on the boardwalk in Brighton Beach right now. She’s not the California type. She’s the Mumu on the boardwalk judging people as they walk by type. I mean, she’s yelling, YELLING AT ME, about this bunny. Arguing, really. And you can tell my family is from Brooklyn because I’m arguing right back. 

“Ma, how the hell do you know that there are no bunnies in Brooklyn? Are you here right now? Also, did you know that Coney Island was full of bunnies before it became Coney Island? It was called Rabbit Island before it was called Coney Island!”

My mother takes a deep sip of coffee before she says, “Are you in Coney Island right now or Prospect Park?”

“Prospect Park, by Ninth Street,” the bunny crosses the bike path, but I follow.

“Well, you should be at freaking Bellevue in Manhattan because you’re crazy. That’s not a bunny.”

The argument with my mother has not slowed me down. In fact, the angrier she makes me – insisting that this is not a bunny when she is in California, and I am following a bunny – gives me speed. I stay on the phone to argue and simultaneously chase the bunny. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I reach the bunny. It’s not like I’ll pick it up. I think I’m wondering that if I follow it into its home there is a possibility there will be more bunnies. Then I can snap a picture, post it on Instagram and caption it “First signs of Spring in Brooklyn!” Maybe the photo will go viral. Maybe I’ll be on the news. Maybe I’ll make a YouTube channel called “Brooklyn Bunnies” where I discover a new part of this bunny world every day. Then I’ll have tons of followers and be able to pay my bills, and I won’t have to worry so much about the cost of food, if I should sell my soul for a celery juice, or if I can find a brand-new pair of sneakers at a discounted price for my smallest child who’s growing at the speed of light. All of this goes through my head as I yell at my mother who’s eating a bagel on her balcony, and I chase this little animal into the forest.

“Ma, when I finally snap a picture of this thing, you’re going to be in shock. I mean, real shock. Ugh, hang on, I have to climb this fence.”

“Have you seen the news? Terrible, just terrible.” My mother has always had a real knack for changing the subject right at the point when I might win the argument. I put the phone on speaker and hook it into one of my bra straps under my sweater as I climb a fence by the far end of the lawn. 

“I haven’t seen or heard the news and I’d like to keep it that way,” I scream this into my chest as I jump down into what looks like an ivy forest just off the path. “I’m done watching the news, it’s making me really crazy and anxious.”

“Well dear, yes, you’re chasing an imaginary bunny into the woods. Aren’t you supposed to be working today?”

I snatch the phone from my bra strap, scratching my neck as I violently pull it out of my sweater. “Ma,” I grit my teeth, “the bunny is NOT imaginary. It’s right here, I just can’t get a picture of it because it keeps moving, oh but when I do…” Before I can finish my sentence, the bunny stops. “Ma, shhhh, hold on, it stopped.” As it freezes, I edge closer. It ruffles the ivy and turns to face me.

“Well, what is it?” My mother has a piece of bagel in her cheek that she hasn’t chewed yet. I can hear it there collecting saliva. She, too, is quiet and unmoving on the phone waiting to see who’s right. Who won the argument this time?

“Oh, wow, well, ok, eeewwww,” I am turning around as fast as I can, running in the other direction, hands shaking, shoving my phone back into my bra, leaping over the fence, taking the phone out again, and bounding across the big lawn at ninth street.

“What, what? What was it?” My mother shouts through the phone.

“I’m not telling you,” I’m still running.

“Now you have to tell me. I told you it wasn’t a G-ddamn bunny! What are you, nuts? What was it a squirrel? A bird? Chipmunk?”

“No, Ma, no.” I really don’t want to tell my mother what I have been maniacally chasing for the past fifteen minutes, but I know that in a real Brooklyn argument, you can’t hide the facts. 

“Come on, out with it! What have you been chasing?”

“A rat, ma, a freaking, disgusting, dirty rat, ok?!?” I wait for the cackle of laughter to come, and when it does, I laugh a little too.

“Do me a favor,” my mother is howling now, “if you’re off from work today go get your freaking eyes checked so that you stop seeing Easter Bunnies running around Park Slope.”

“Yeah, ok, Ma.”

“Now have a great day, dear. I love you! I’ve got to finish reading the Times before my ZOOM dance class.”

“Alright, Ma.”

“I can’t believe you just chased a rat through the park. I can’t wait to tell my friends at lunch today!” My mother is still giggling when she hangs up. 

If I really examine this experience, it’s that my heart has been chasing spring before spring has been ready to bloom. The winter was hard this year, and I can’t wait for the daffodils to begin making their entrances around the neighborhood. When will the front stoops of brownstones start showing their pink and blue perennials, their yellow tulips, their purple and white hyacinths? And because I can’t wait for the first bursts of color, those initial signs of hope and life, and the natural progression of things, I force it. Spring in Brooklyn, spring in Park Slope, cannot be forced. Instead, it must unfold, and we must allow it to. The cafes and restaurants up and down Fifth Avenue must set up their outdoor dining when the weather tells them it’s time. Little children exchange their heavy coats for sweatshirts and lighter activewear as the robins begin to appear. The green markets replaces apples and squash for strawberries, rhubarb, and asparagus. Then, and only then, is it spring. Anything else would be like screaming on the phone with your mother while chasing a rat through Prospect Park because you thought it was a bunny. And that would be crazy, right? I mean, who does that? 

The Power of Huddles

By Filed Under: Dispatches From Babyville, Park Slope Life

When you watch or play team sports you will undoubtedly experience “the huddle”. These are the times when groups of athletes on the same team come together, with or without their coach, often during time outs or other breaks in the action. If you’ve never played a team sport you might have no idea what happens during these huddles. And, if you’ve played tons of sports you might take huddles for granted. Huddles are vital in sport, and in life.

Huddles serve multiple purposes, sometimes simultaneously. Huddles are used to plan and convey strategy, as well as provide encouragement. Teams “huddle up” to share information. Teams “huddle up” to comfort each other. Teams “huddle up” to energize each other. Teams “huddle up” to teach each other. No matter the specific reason at the given time, the huddle makes the team a team, for better or for worse. Huddles are vital for honesty and communication. 

I’ve been playing team sports since I was 9. I can still remember the feeling, if not the content, of some of the first team huddles I participated in. My local St. Savior’s softball coach, Jim Cohen, would bring together the group of girls into a huddle before games, in between innings and at the end of the game. He’d use the huddle to motivate us, while instructing us. He would give us corrective guidance, with a little bit of gruff. In those moments, we knew he was our leader, but he was also our biggest cheerleader. He brought a rag-tag group of girls together, who hadn’t won a single game the previous season, and made us a championship team the next year. That kind of transformation doesn’t just happen on the field, through play, but can be largely attributed to the power of huddles.

Since September 1997, I have played volleyball weekly with an amazing group of women. We huddle before the game starts, during time outs, and then sometimes after the game at a bar or restaurant. These huddles are largely “leaderless”. There is no coach in this group, but we turn to each other as leaders in many ways. Through these huddles we have made a family of sorts. We’ve gotten each other through births, illnesses and deaths. The huddle is powerful with this crew.

As a team sports player of 40 years (ouch…), coach of almost 20 years (omg…) and an official of just about a year (woo hoo…), I’ve seen my fair share of huddles, good and bad. Huddles can make or break a team. Huddles can propel singular and collective athletes to the greatest accomplishments of their lives, or they can fail miserably. 

Bad huddles are usually those where the coach just talks the whole time, oftentimes with mostly negative emotion. In bad huddles, you see athletes struggling to stay connected. They stare off, or down at the ground. If you’ve lost the athlete in the huddle, you can’t expect them to put it back together on the court, field, pitch, etc.  If there’s no significant engagement or positivity, the huddle hurts, instead of helping.

This past year, the huddle has been vital to me in life, even more than sport. Around this time last year I was given shocking news: I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm. A brain aneurysm is a bulge or ballooning of an artery in your brain; it suggests a weakening of the blood vessel. Aneurysms in any part of the body, but especially the brain, are dangerous, but do not always require treatment. It is estimated that about 1 in 50 people walking around have brain aneurysms, and 90% of them will never cause problems. But, when aneurysms burst, especially brain aneurysms, people often die. Each year, about 30,000 Americans have a ruptured brain aneurysm and about 500,000 people die from them around the world. Half the victims of brain aneurysms are under 50. I was 47 when they found my aneurysm.

I didn’t have symptoms. It was what they call an “incidental finding”. They found the aneurysm through a head MRI for another condition. That other condition is not life threatening, but requires medication management and regular imaging. You can imagine my shock when I was reading the lab report on my MRI less than a day after having the test, but before I heard from my doctor. The condition I was being treated for was continuing to improve (great news). And then… 

“Possible 1 to 2 mm aneurysm of the supraclinoid left internal carotid artery.” I was reading this report on my phone in the passenger seat of our car, my husband in the driver’s seat, while on the way to our son’s first high school volleyball game of the spring 2023 season. I started bemoaning how irresponsible the radiologist was who authored this report and erroneously suggested I had a brain aneurysm. I was in complete denial, complaining to my husband, and then my phone rang. It was my doctor. Recognition of reality clicked as I picked up her call. I didn’t say hello. Just: “I have an aneurysm?”. She told me that it looked like it. She had already shown the images to the best neurosurgeon at NYU. He said “don’t worry too much. Small aneurysms are common. Let’s get more imaging ASAP”.  We set up an appointment with him just days later. The most important huddling of my life, thus far, was about to get started.

As we entered the gym to watch the volleyball game, I was still on the phone with the doctor. When I got off the phone, my initial team huddle was already in place. My husband and sister were there. A few quick calls, and my mother and other sister were in place. The key to a good huddle when things aren’t looking good is to NOT freak out. Negative energy begets negative energy. My initial huddle acknowledged the stress and fear, but highlighted the words of the expert: “small aneurysms are common”, etc. Unfortunately, the subsequent images and multiple appointments with experts from the best hospitals in the world confirmed that I would need surgery. I was going to need a lot of huddling.

When you know you need a huddle, it also matters who is called into the huddle. Sometimes the whole team comes together; sometimes the coach pulls one player aside, while the rest of the team circles up. Sometimes, like in American football, the different “teams” (offense, defense, special, etc.) huddle separately. The choices around huddles should be deliberate. I made choices over the course of weeks and months about who to huddle with, and which huddles were for which purposes. 

I quickly summoned the local moms huddle. I let them all know what I was facing, and that I didn’t know what support I needed, but hoped they would be there to provide it when I figured it out. They helped me meet my needs, and ensured that my son’s needs were covered. They stepped up for me, and I am forever grateful. 

There is the daily huddle with college friends, thanks to the Marco Polo video messaging app. This crew is vital for the spontaneous huddle. Wherever I was, whatever time of day or night, they were there to listen, and respond. Through this huddle, I could privately cry, but not be alone in that moment. 

My mom is key to the doctor’s appointment huddle.  It’s important to have the right combination of experience for these particular kinds of huddles. Doctor’s appointment huddles don’t always feel like the patient is on the same team with the medical care providers. It can sometimes feel like us against them. That’s not the vibe you want for life threatening medical events. My mom was my co-captain in these huddles. She and I planned our questions for the doctors beforehand, executed them in the moment, and regrouped afterwards to process. While I ultimately made a decision that she struggled to support, delaying treatment when the doctor said it was ok, she did not leave the huddle. Huddles can be challenging. 

And then there is the family huddle, with unconditional group hugs and vital honest reflection with and from my husband and son. The morning after I read that life-changing report my husband asked me how I was doing. My response: “I’m alive, so I guess I’m good”. Our teenage son was always willing to give a hug when asked, but preferred to avoid too much huddling. For huddles to be most effective, participant preferences should be identified and respected. Then, when the huddles happen, they’re most meaningful.

Huddles are also important tools for identifying strengths and challenges for the various team members. Some people shine in the huddle; others fade away. My husband, for instance, really stepped up. He’s used to waiting in the wings in our family huddles, and unlikely to be called into service in a “major league” kinda way. Over the 4+ months from my diagnosis, through eventual surgery, and past my recovery, he was on pointe.  When all was said and done though, he needed some time to himself, to recuperate and recharge. Being on a team, especially in a high stress environment, can be exhausting.  

In August 2023 I had surgery to insert a pipeline embolization stent to support my left carotid artery just past the ophthalmic branch. The procedure was done through angiogram technology, which thankfully meant no need to open my skull. The stent was snaked into my wrist, through my chest, and up into my brain.  Recovery was minor, by comparison to other surgeries, but not without lingering effects. 

I’ve been on blood thinning medication since surgery. I can’t play volleyball while on this medication. There is considerable risk of minor head injury while playing volleyball. And while on blood thinners there is no such thing as ”minor” head injury. I hope that some test I’m having in the next few weeks will mean that I can stop the medication later this month. At that time, I’ll be cleared to play volleyball again.

It’s been just over 6 months since I’ve played volleyball. This limitation has caused me considerable sadness. You could say I’ve been “sidelined” but not completely been off the court. I’ve coached and officiated since the surgery, and watched plenty of my son’s games, but not yet played. Returning to the volleyball court to play will be a momentous occasion that I will be sure to celebrate. But it’s not just action on the court that I’ll be thankful for. I may have been part of thousands of team huddles over my 48 years on this planet, but I will never take another huddle for granted. They’re just too important to sport, and life.

Green Space & The City

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life

In a densely populated city like NYC, green spaces are a limited resource. Sera Rogue wants to change that by cultivating green spaces through her sustainable landscape design and holistic gardening studio, Red Fern Brooklyn. Rogue and her team create and install custom-designed gardens to fit your unique needs. By using an ecologically-conscious approach, Red Fern Brooklyn believes stewardship and sustainability can grow in tandem in and around your home.

Red Fern: A Garden Design Studio Turning NYC Green 

The turn of a new season can spur excitement for a multitude of reasons for New Yorkers, especially during the transition into spring when the eagerness to be outside is palpably felt throughout the community. Many fantasize about being surrounded by nature, yet such spaces are a limited resource in our urban city. What if we could cultivate those spaces a bit closer to home and simultaneously use them to steward our own ecology? 

Sera Rogue couldn’t ignore this seed of a conundrum and her curiosities grew into the creation Red Fern Brooklyn, a sustainable landscape design and holistic gardening studio. As the owner and designer, Rogue seeks to connect her clients to our ecological system by offering design expertise, classes, and a variety of initiatives. 

Serving numerous locations throughout Brooklyn, Manhattan, and New Jersey, Red Fern Brooklyn offers garden design, installation, and maintenance along with other services to create and cultivate green spaces. Rogue brings her client’s visions to life alongside assistant designer, Finn Bellanger. Another team member, Shahrayer Shahamet, assists with gardening and manages Red Fern Brooklyn’s social media platforms while Kate Douglass helps with administrative work. 

After working in the area for over nine years, Rogue notes she’s leading the Red Fern Brooklyn team through a period of transition by focusing on initiatives to deal with climate change and increased sustainability. “Our first and foremost goal is to help people green their own properties and green their homes,” Rogue said, “to make usable spaces that are ecologically sound is what we’re all about.” 

The Red Fern Brooklyn team works to ensure each project is not only custom-designed to fit each client’s needs, but that their work will encourage each person to become a better steward of our ecology. It can often be easy to lose a connection to nature while navigating through the flurry of an urban city. Rogue believes awareness of our ecology is crucial to understand how we can better steward the earth we inhabit. 

As we grow in awareness and knowledge of the current state of the earth, feelings of hopelessness to alter the situation can definitely arise. However, Rogue doesn’t dismiss the daunting reality of climate change, rather, she wants to lean into how we can make choices that are less harmful and more nourishing for the earth.

“We can use our green spaces as a way for us, individually, to work with native plants to support our local fauna or develop a way to use our own waste through compost to make our gardens healthier,” Rogue said. 

Designing spaces with native plants is central to Red Fern Brooklyn’s initiatives to mitigate environmental problems and seek natural solutions. Native plants, as opposed to imported ones, use less water, thus conserving the resource. Additionally, the benefits of native plants extend to other species by feeding local pollinators like bees and butterflies while also providing seed and food for bird populations.  

Red Fern Brooklyn understands the constant upkeep of an ever-growing green project can be overwhelming to maintain. Thus, they offer a variety of services to support you and your project after installation. A few of the services include maintenance programs, care guides, and ongoing consultation. 

By blending her experience in the creative field of filmmaking with her love of nature, Rogue tells a story with each green space she creates. When she visits a site for the first time, her approach to assessing the space is twofold. Rogue checks the physical space for any potential issues such as problems with drainage or privacy concerns and turns urban idiosyncrasies we often perceive as negative into beneficial aspects of the design. 

Next, Rogue gets to know her clients on a personal level to ensure the space can match their lifestyle and uniquely fit their needs. She is able to envision the design by considering a variety of factors including the family profile of each client. Perhaps there are children in the household and a design feature could cater to specific activities they enjoy. Additionally, she considers the schedules of the family members and how they want to use the space. 

Furthermore, Rogue takes note of the client’s individual style and personality as inspiration for the green space design. Whether installing an edible garden, or a backyard oasis, Rogue says she wants to make a space more habitable, local, and functional. 

“As much as I love the outdoors and nature, I absolutely love meeting new people and living in such a vibrant, diverse city like New York, and getting to hear different people’s stories is very compelling to me,” Rogue said.

Over time, Rogue has shifted Red Fern Brooklyn’s focus to expand beyond simply creating beautiful spaces, to more of an ecological-centered approach. She seeks to combine the dynamism of our urban culture with a consciousness of our natural world in her work. “It has become not just about the aesthetic, the style, or the design aspect of things,” Rogue said, “but how can I use those things to help my community on a bigger level.” 

According to Rogue, cultivating green spaces is not only good for each person’s individual mental health, but also for our community at large. She dispels the notion that people are either born with or without a green thumb and instead believes that gardening is for everyone. For Rogue, connecting to nature is all about acknowledgement, regardless of our experience or location.

“…acknowledging where we can do better and also acknowledging our innate connection to the natural world,” Rogue said. “We’re not separate from it. We’re bonded inextricably to nature.” 

For more information on Red Fern Brooklyn’s upcoming classes and initiatives, visit their website at redfernbrooklyn.com or find them on instagram @red_fern_brooklyn. 

The Heart of Brooklyn: Park Slope Farmers Market

By Filed Under: Park Slope Eater, Park Slope Life

Open all weekends in all weather, the Grand Army farmer’s market is a neighborhood institution. GrowNYC Greenmarket Director and Park Slope resident Liz Carollo talks about why the Grand Army location is “the heart of Brooklyn” and offers advice for new customers and regulars.

“The actual space itself, bordering Prospect Park, across the street from the library, the museum, the Botanic Garden, the zoo, is truly the heart of Brooklyn,” Liz Carollo, GrowNYC’s Greenmarket Director, said. 

Carollo started her 18-year career with GrowNYC’s publicity team in Grand Army Plaza. Her first two seasons, she watched runners jog to pick up milk and eggs in the morning and come back in the afternoon with their families. There were strawberry shortcake eating contests, planting demonstrations, and harvest festival celebrations. One Park Slope resident volunteered his 40-year-old tractor for kids to climb in the middle of the plaza. 

“I spent those first two years getting to know Grand Army, the producers, the customers. It is such a special place,” Carollo said. Even though GrowNYC organizes 45 farmer’s markets across New York’s five boroughs, Carollo moved across the street from Grand Army and considers it her “home market.”

GrowNYC is an independent environmental nonprofit that has operated for over five decades. Six years in, starting in 1976, the founders recognized a missing link between farmers who had trouble finding buyers and New York residents with limited access to good produce in the city. 

GrowNYC’s mission is to make fresh food accessible year-round to New York City residents. The greenmarkets operate year-round, and the markets stay open every weekend through heat, rain, and snow. 

The greenmarkets also stayed open through the pandemic. During the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic, the greenmarkets received essential worker status from the city. Due in part to the large outdoor location, the Grand Army farmer’s market established three entrance lines and socially distant stands for customers to access with proper safety protocols. 

Bradley Farm

“We had customers show up in tears because they didn’t want to go inside to shop anywhere. They were scared,” Carollo said. 

In a city-wide quarantine, the Grand Army Plaza Market offered a place for people to see their neighbors or other people outside their household in asafe,  outdoor, socially distant setting. 

“It was an incredible experience I hope to not repeat,” Carollo said.

Today, the Grand Army greenmarket follows its founders’ mission to bring high quality produce, meats, and other foods to the city’s neighborhoods. Each weekend is planned up to a year in advance. GrowNYC assigns spaces to vendors, or producers, who grow, raise, or bake their own products. Producer applications for the next season open around Thanksgiving, and GrowNYC assigns producers their farmer’s market spaces for the following year at the end of February. 

Producers resubmit their crop plans annually, even if they have come to Grand Army for years. The application asks what, when, and how much producers plan to make as well as when they plan to harvest it. These producers live within 250 miles north, 120 miles south, and 170 miles east and west of New York City.

“You have farmers who are coming in from South Jersey, so you get those early spring crops right away, and then you have farmers who are coming in from upstate New York, so it’s an extensive season on the other side. When you have a market like that, where you have producers that come from within the Green Market region, which is about a 200-mile radius around Poughkeepsie, you get a very wide range of products, and you take advantage of the seasonality of the region,” Carollo said. 

There’s also an inspections and compliance team who review the items to make sure they are up to the quality GrowNYC expects. There are regional managers and on-site supervisors who ensure smooth day-of operations to make the farmer’s market a “calm, lovely morning for customers who arrive as we open at eight.” 

“If we’re doing our job well,  people show up and think it’s a spontaneous pop-up,” Carollo said.  

Whether you’re new to the Grand Army farmer’s market or consider yourself a regular, here are the best tips to spending your weekends in “the heart of Brooklyn”: 

Dress for the weather. Again, the farmer’s market will be open in all weather conditions. Make sure you’re also prepared. 

Fresh Radish Farm

Bring a reusable bag. The farmer’s market is BYOB: bring your own bags. As part of its sustainability mission, GrowNYC doesn’t allow vendors to distribute plastic handled bags. 

Take a lap. Before you buy anything, browse all the stands. Are there any that stand out to you from a distance that you would like to check out? Any unexpected items you’re curious about? What is available today? 

Another tip? GrowNYC doesn’t regulate the prices of the stands, so two stands might have different prices for similar produce. Compare quality and prices between stands. 

Be open-minded and flexible with your expectations. You won’t know what is available until you arrive. If you want to make a tomato recipe in February, you’ll have to pivot when you realize no famers will have tomatoes until the summer. 

Farmer’s market regulars may know cucumbers and eggplants grow in the summer and apples come in autumn, but they should also stay open-minded as the seasons change. “As it gets warm, there was an expectation that the summer produce has arrived, or even the spring produce…For the farmers, they’re just going in the ground, the farm just thawed,” Carollo said. 

(Carollo’s produce recommendation for this spring transition? “You get these really, really tasty greens that have been in the ground all winter. You could either get bitter greens, or they get an added sweetness to them.”) 

Ask questions. This may seem intimidating if you’ve never been to a farmer’s market before, but interacting directly with the person who grew, raised, or baked the item you purchased is an asset. 

The most common questions people ask farmers, the information desk, or other shoppers is “What is the best way to cook this?” Producers eat whatever they produce, so they will have recommendations for how to best prepare and serve whatever you might buy. 

Customers can also ask producers what is happening on the farm, what they expect to grow in the coming weeks, and what other products they are excited about. Producers may try new things on their farms. A long-running tomato farmer might also sell a new homemade tomato sauce. “The producers are trying to innovate and serve the customer better,” Carollo said. Asking questions leads to new recommendations, new products, and new techniques to carry home with your tote full of produce. 

Talk to other shoppers. Start a conversation with a person that’s looking at the same honey jar as you. What else did they buy today that you should check out? And where did they get that cider donut? Be open to sharing what you discovered and what recipes you might have, too!

Go to the information tent. The information tent has all the answers and is present at every GrowNYC greenmarket. They can assist in questions from how to best prepare fennel, what local restaurants they recommend, or what vendors and produce might come in the next few weeks. A bonus? They may do a cooking demonstration or events at the information tent, making it worth your while to stop by each week. 

Use your nutrition benefits. Cost can be a barrier to fresh food for people with limited financial resources. GrowNYC provides a space where people of all income levels can purchase fresh food. They accept nutrition benefits from SNAP, WIC, FMNP, Health Bucks, HealthFirst, and Humana OTC. SNAP customers who shop at a farmer’s market receive $2 in HealthBucks for every $2 spent on their EBT card, up to $10 a day. 

Customers enrolled in these programs can approach the information tent to receive paper or wooden tokens to use directly at vendor stands. In 2023, customers across New York City accessed $4.3 million to use at greenmarkets, and Grand Army did 5,000 SNAP EBT transactions, equaling $155,000 in sales, and accessed $54,000 in HealthBucks. 

“Grand Army is a location that is perfect for food access and for customers who are shopping on all income levels to be able to purchase fresh local foods,” Carollo said. 

Support your local farmer’s market through GrowNYC. Though these farmer’s markets feel integral to their neighborhoods, GrowNYC is not a government-affiliated program. It is an independent nonprofit. If you love the farmer’s market, consider supporting their operations through a donation of your time or other resources. For more information about how you can get involved, please visit their website at https://www.grownyc.org/ 

A New Joint in Town for the Creative Soul

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life

The ShapeShifter Lab is open in their new location, and that means music, yoga, art and much more.

The 1970s music scene in the lofts of SoHo has been replaced by high end apartments and retail, but the energy of that era is still thumping at ShapeShifter Lab in Park Slope. Business partners Matt Garrison and Fortuna Sung have made a career of supporting artists and creating experimental, collaborative spaces.  

Matt grew up in the Soho loft scene in the early 1970s. His parents were artists; his mother, Roberta Escamilla Garrison, a modern dancer/choreographer and his father, Jimmy Garrison, a bass player most notable for his work with the classic John Coltrane Quartet. His mother bought a loft, for pennies on the dollar at the time, and put on shows and performances inside their home.  

Matt and Fortuna opened ShapeShifter Lab in 2010, but their friendship dates back much farther. They met at high school in Rome, Italy where both of their families, each with their own fascinating stories, relocated for a time.  

Business partners Matt Garrison (left) and Fortuna Sung (right). Photography by Michael Torres

Years passed; they lost touch. Fortuna became an interior designer and Matt followed his father’s footsteps and became a bass player, himself. They reconnected in Japan while Matt was on tour, and Fortuna learned he had relocated to New York City. She was ready for a change and decided to visit. Her trip was supposed to be 4 days long, but upon arrival she unpacked and moved in.  

This wasn’t an unfamiliar motif in their lives. When Matt’s family went to Rome, it was for a 3-month stay that turned into 10 years for him. His mother still resides in Rome, today. 

Fortuna and Matt began hunting down different spaces and nontraditional buildings to house their vision. They wanted to build a creative laboratory.  

They found this in their Gowanus space, where they operated for 10 years. They started out as a music venue, but began hosting events such as recitals, mitzvahs, workshops, music lessons, and even weddings. Hosting these private events helped them make enough money to support their initial goal of supporting artists who lacked the following and profitability of sold-out  shows.  

 Saying “YES!” to all artists has come with its misfires, but none they can’t laugh about now.  When they first opened their doors, their initial booking agreement was 2 pages long. Now it’s 15.  

Their AC has been busted by fog machines, their space has been spray-painted mid-show, and  their stage has even been set on fire.  

One artist took to the stage completely naked aside from the food they arranged on their body, which they invited the audience to eat off of them. This performance was not a favorite of the NYC Health Department. 

ShapeShifter Lab now occupies the former location of the Tea Lounge, a Park Slope landmark that has significant meaning to the pair. Matt used to bring his kids to the Tea Lounge to hang out and listen to music. It’s also where Matt and Fortuna met regularly with their liquor license attorney to prepare for their original Gowanus location.  

They kept the Tea Lounge in mind as they created their new space, which houses The ShapeShifter Café. It’s a huge, open, inviting space with plenty of room to work, relax, and even sit in on rehearsals if you’re there at the right time. They’ve got homemade chai, a stocked bar, and plenty of spaces to gather and get creative.

 The ShapeShifter Café is open from 8AM – 3PM weekdays, and 9AM – 4PM on the weekends. 

The building at 837 Union Street itself is black-owned, and their lease was as meaningful to  ShapeShifter Lab as it was to the building owners.

They’ve continued to grow their business in their new space with yoga and dance offerings. The dance program will be overseen by Matt’s sister, professional dancer and choreographer, Maia Claire Garrison.  

Their new location comes complete with a beautiful studio upstairs for yoga and dance classes.

 Everyone that works at ShapeShifter Lab is an artist or musician – baristas, bartenders, interns and all.  

ShapeShifter Lab offers internships and training in recording, production, performance, event planning, and more. This summer, they had 18 interns on rotation. Many graduate from their internships to work for part or full-time for them. 

Among their many internship offerings is their audio engineer training program.
Photography by Matt Garrison

If you’re interested in internships, reach out on their website.  

They’re passionate exploring technology in the music industry. They even developed an app that ultimately caught the eye of Apple CEO, Tim Cook. They’ve worked closely with Apple in developing and marketing their software. Their app, TuneBend™, allows musicians to play, collaborate, and even record tracks together from different locations. 

In 2014, Matt and Fortuna launched ShapeShifter Plus, their non-profit 501(c)(3) that supports art of all disciplines. This allowed them to accept charitable donations while continuing to support young artists looking for spaces to perform or present their crafts.  

In October 2022, ShapeShifter+ partnered with the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) to put on an outdoor festival in Fort Greene Park honoring Grammy-winner Jack DeJohnette.  

Matt’s network within the music industry has helped secure big names for fundraising events.  He even plays bass alongside the headliners, many of which he has performed with throughout his career. While recovering from the pandemic, they put on sold-put shows with the likes of Dave Holland, Jason Moran, Jon Batiste, John DeJohnette, Savion Glover, Living Colour, Carlos Santana, Cindy Blackman, Roy Wood Jr and many others. 

You can find Matt playing bass at ShapeShifter Lab’s free weekly workshops and jam sessions. Musicians of all ages and skill levels are invited to come play and learn.  

Check out all upcoming events on their ShapeShifter Plus website, such as live music, yoga &  dance classes, film screenings, fundraising events, volunteer opportunities, and artistic  performances of all kinds.

Snow Boots, Me and Chat GPT

By Filed Under: Dispatches From Babyville, Park Slope Life

There have been many drawbacks to being a writer but a brand-new one, specific to the particular moment in time, is this: at every holiday gathering, an extended family member is sure to tell you that soon, AI will take your job.

If there’s a good response to this, I haven’t found it yet. I can think of snarky replies and panic-inducing rejoinders, but none of them feel satisfying. So, I’ve decided the best response is to let AI do my job—or try to at least. 

For this dispatch, I was planning on writing about how my youngest daughter, known in these parts as Terza, has always resisted winter footwear. In particular, I was going to tell you about a time when Terza was four, and we took her, right after a blizzard, to see her big sister play the Virgin Mary in the Christmas play in our church basment. 

I visited Chat GPT and typed: “Write a story about a four-year-old girl who refuses to wear her snow boots on the way to see her sister in a Christmas play.” And AI wrote:

“It was a crisp winter morning, and the snow-covered streets sparkled under the soft glow of streetlights.”

It’s not exactly a zinger of a hook, and the language is prosaic to the extreme, not to mention the fact that streetlights don’t tend to glow in the morning but sure, fair enough. 

AI goes on to introduce the Thompson family:

“Little Emma, a four-year-old bundle of energy with golden curls and rosy cheeks, was the youngest member of the Thompson clan. She toddled along in her puffy pink coat, mittens dangling from her sleeves, and a determined look on her face.”

I’ve had sweet tea in Tennessee so sugary it made my teeth ache and my pancreas scream, “No! Please! I’m not up for the job!” A pitcher of that sweet tea is not half as treacle-y as this introduction to our protagonist. 

More to the point (and there’s no way AI could know this, not yet at least) but Terza is not now, and never has been, a bundle of energy. This tired cliche suggests the energy is neat, tidy, contained. It’d be more accurate to say that Terza is a tangle of energy, messy, unpredictable and hard to transport. 

The plot plods along, with the mom trying to put snow boots on Emma, and Emma refusing with a pout and a stamp of her foot. 

“Chuckling softly, Sarah exchanged a knowing glance with her husband, Michael. They had dealt with their fair share of toddler stubbornness.”

Let’s set the record straight. I have never, not once, chuckled softly. I’ve giggled. I’ve guffawed. I’ve chortled so hard, beverages have sprayed out of my nose. But I’ve never chuckled softly, especially not when Terza has refused to put on her snow boots. That’s because it’s not remotely amusing. 

The only possible reason a mother might chuckle softly when her child refuses to put on snow boots is if that mother is high. This may, in fact, be the situation with Sarah. All that toddler stubbornness probably sent her a-running to her local dispensary. 

“With a gentle yet firm touch, Sarah managed to wrangle Emma’s feet into the snow boots, securing the Velcro straps. Emma let out an exaggerated sigh, but she didn’t put up much of a fight.”

I have one question for Sarah: what’s your secret? It seems to be related to the “gentle yet firm touch” but can you offer any more details for us, mere mortals of the human realm, for whom a “gentle yet firm touch” has never worked? 

When I tried to put on Terza’s snow boots the day of the Christmas play, I was not met with an exaggerated sigh. I was met with blood-curdling screams, the kind of screams that, were an actress to emit them in a horror movie, the director might say, “OK, let’s dial it down. It’s a bit much.” When I used my “gentle yet firm touch” to put on Terza’s snow boots, those boots were kicked off so violently, they shot into the air, hitting me in my head. 

Some boots are made for walking. Terza’s boots were made for knocking mothers unconscious. 

After several failed “gentle but firm” attempts, and several failed “just firm” attempts, I surrendered and let Terza wear the only footwear she could bear—off-brand Uggs. I knew it was a long walk to the church and that her feet would get wet and cold, but her sister was going to be the Blessed Mother, and that’s not something that happens everyday. 

“The walk to the community center was a mix of snowball fights, laughter, and the occasional slip on an icy patch.”

This should be replaced with “The walk to the church was a mix of Terza throwing snowballs in her parents’ faces, Terza’s maniacal laughter when they repeatedly reminded her of the rules of snowball throwing with increasing frustration, and slips on icy patches.” 

About halfway there, Terza’s boots became fully saturated with water, and then, very, very cold. This is when she threw herself facedown on the snowy sidewalk and screamed, “I’m freezing! I’m freezing! Help me!” When I suggested that one idea might be to raise her body off the freezing snow, she emitted more of the too-loud-for-horror-movie screams. 

I tried to carry her, but she was a full-sized preschooler and her fury weighed her down, making me sink into the snow drifts. Then she started yelling in my ear, that she could no longer feel her feet. 

“What if she has hypothermia?” I asked my husband. “What are the symptoms of hypothermia?”

“How should I know?” he replied, making me wish I’d listened to my parents and married a doctor instead of a writer. 

“I’m the Blessed Mother!” Seconda yelled. “The Blessed Mother can not be late!”

This was indisputable. 

I handed frozen, furious, possibly hypothermic Terza to David and rushed ahead to get the Virgin Mary to the Birth of Jesus on time. 

“As the play unfolded, Emma’s eyes widened with wonder. She was captivated by the festive costumes, the cheerful music, and most of all, the sight of her big sister on stage. Emily, dressed as a snowflake, beamed as she danced.”

Note to readers: AI has made the unusual (and confusing) choice of naming the sisters Emma and Emily. Thankfully no more siblings are involved, or we might have to contend with Emilia and Emmy-Lou and Emelda. 

It is true that Seconda delivered a captivating performance as the mother of Christ. She had a beatific glow as she cradled the newborn babe and she managed the procession on and off stage without tripping once. 

But Terza did not watch this captivating performance with wide, wonder-struck eyes. I don’t think she watched the performance at all. Instead, after we’d removed her sodden socks and shoes, and ascertained she didn’t have hypothermia, she ran barefoot around the church basement, where a breakfast had been served before the performance. She pilfered cookies from strangers’ tables and accidentally knocked a full Solo cup of orange juice onto a man’s lap while he was busy trying to be captivated by the performance. 

“In that magical moment, surrounded by the joy of the season and the love of her family, Emma forgot all about her initial resistance to the snow boots. After all, Christmas had a way of melting even the tiniest hearts, making room for the joy and wonder of the holiday season.”

I’m confused about the mechanics here. Typically, in hackneyed platitudes, you make room in your heart for joy and wonder. Yet here it seems that the heart and the joy are vying to occupy the same space, so that by melting the heart, it frees up real estate for the joy and wonder. Huh.

But no matter. In real life, hearts were not melted. Only snow trapped in off-brand Uggs was melted, causing those shoes to become instantly (and permanently) ruined. Terza refused to put the wringing-wet shoes back on for the journey back, so we borrowed a dry pair of socks from a kindly parishioner and my husband carried her all the way home. The snow had melted by then, and our other child had ceased to be the Virgin Mary, so it was a little easier. 

I can say with absolute certainty that unlike AI’s protagonist, Terza did not “forget all about her initial resistance to the snow boots,” Even at 11, she still resists winter footwear. Just the other day, when I tried to coax her out of her Crocs-with-socks combination, she told me, “I will not succumb to the system of snow boots!” Same stubbornness, bigger words. 

So, there you have it. Two winter Dispatches from Babybille—one from me, and one from AI. I’ll let you decide if my extended family members are right about the imminent demise of my vocation. 

My take? AI can do my job. It’s just that AI does my job really badly.

But it’s only fair that I give AI the last word. I asked it to write an ending for a Dispatch from Babyville. And, after instantly devouring all the columns I’ve ever written, AI came up with this conclusion. I hope it melts your tiny heart, making room for joy and wonder.

“In closing, let us embrace the chaos, relish the milestones, and savor the fleeting moments of babyhood. Together, we are creating memories that will forever be etched in the collective narrative of Babyville, where the adventure of raising our little ones unfolds with every giggle, every stumble, and every shared knowing glance between fellow parents on this extraordinary journey.”

Reader Recommendation: Our Favorite Coffee Shops

By Filed Under: Park Slope Eater, Park Slope Life

Coffee shops are the cornerstones of a metropolitan life, but not all coffee shops are the same. 

For me, I have coffee shops that require a perfectly distanced walk to wake me up alongside a cappuccino. I have a spot for decadent pastries like burnt cheesecake and drippy cinnamon buns, perfect to dig into once you’re home, and I have a spot for an incredible apple turnover that can be, if needed, devoured on the move with only flakes left to clean. One shop offers picnic basket deals for lunches outside, and one place is perfect for an all-day laptop grind.  

In a city where living quarters can be…let’s say, contained, a coffee shop is an extension of our lives. It’s our living room, our old-fashioned parlor, and our study.  

In winter, we crave getting out of our apartments and rosying our cheeks in the cold air—if there’s a warm destination in mind. Pair this with the buzz of catching up with a friend over the joyful combination of a smooth coffee and buttery pastry and you’ll forget that you miss life before daylight savings. These are the best cafes where you can ask “No, seriously, how are you?” without getting a stink eye from a headphone-wearing stranger. 

Brew Memories 

295 7th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215 (7th Ave & 7th St)

brewmemoriesbrooklyn@gmail.com | (347) 987-3954

Mon-Fri: 7:30 a.m. to 8 p.m.; Sat & Sun: 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.

I debated sharing this recommendation, but ‘tis the season for generosity. Sometimes when I meet up with a friend, I’m caught in that place of being a little too hungry or a little too wired from my morning caffeine to want the typical cappuccino or croissant. Brew Memories brings a versatility to the coffee shop scene that is much needed. With Vietnamese coffee, bubble tea, or hot brown sugar matcha lattes, this place steps above your typical barista spread for a variety of moods and cravings. Sure, you can get a croissant, but why not double down and get a tofu banhmi, a chicken katsu bento box, or a fried chicken sandwich? On top of that, the inside space is extremely calming. With bare bulb light fixtures and brick walls covered in art, you and your friend will chat catch-up until you remember this is not, in fact, either of your living rooms. 

Kos Kaffe 

251 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215 (5th Ave & Garfield St) 

koskaffe@gmail.com | 718-768-6868

Mon-Sun: 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Listen, I’m not coming down on anyone who brings their laptop to a coffee shop. The perfect coffee shops for sitting and working like there’s no world around you is for a different article. Kos Kaffe appreciates that their customers will be both the duo talking about their life over a nice meal and the avid laptop workers. And they make it work. Styled like a quaint general store and a European café, they implement laptop rules from noon to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday or 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on the weekends. During these restricted hours, smaller tables perfect for a chatty duo can nest, and laptops move to a communal table. Everyone wins! On top of that, Kos Kaffe sources their food from local farms, orchards, and bakeries, so you can dig in sans guilt to the green frittata, green BLT, or the kale salad. The non-green food options are equally as guilt-free. 

Maya and Camila Café 

463 4th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215 (4th Ave & 11th St) 

(862) 465-9389

Mon-Sun: 7:30 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Danny Salamanca, the owner of the café who named it after his daughters, planned this café for five years. Shortly after its opening, it experienced a fire in May and another electrical wiring setback in September, which put it back out of business. A local GoFundMe raising over $17,000 helped reopen this café, and their doors reopened in November. With the tagline “Columbia meets Brooklyn,” this spot feels incredibly warm and comfortable. Whether sitting barside or in a booth, this spot allows you to feel like you’re escaping in plain sight in the rare way that the best neighborhood haunts do. Whether you have a dog or a small child, a craving for empanadas or bacon-egg-and-cheese breakfast sandwiches, or can’t decide between espresso and espresso martini, this place will check all your boxes.  

Milk Bar 

204 6th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11217 (6th Ave & Union St)

milkbarbrooklyn@gmail.com | (929) 276-3396

Mon-Fri: 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.; Sat & Sun: 8 a.m. to 3 p.m

The windows at the front of the store let in a great amount of light that lets you pretend you’re outside while hiding indoors. I’m not the only person who likes this space, so go earlier or later in the day to avoid a rush. It’s worth the schedule configuring to scoop one of those indoor tables. With no laptops allowed during the weekend, the Milk Bar on 6th Avenue encourages people to use the space to connect. Embrace the welcome, private hum of other conversations surrounding your rant about your roommates, life partner, or kids (depending on your lifestyle). Even better? Get the soup combo with the soup of the day and half a grilled cheese or French onion toast. What could be more delightful decadent than that level of escape in plain sight of the street.

Velvette Brew 

279 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215 (5th Ave & 1st St) 

(718) 971-9131

Mon-Sun: 7 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Something all these cafes have in common for the right spot to catch up with a bud? Open spaces with lots and lots of seating. You don’t want to be that group that meets up at a spot, realizes after they bought the coffee that there’s nowhere to sit, then you’re wandering looking for something park-ish or bench-y to continue your chat in the cold. Velvette on 5th Avenue does it best. With plenty of tables along the wall (near outlets) and in the middle of the shop, people can find a space to hang out and chat any day. With another cozier shop opened at 814 Union Street, Velvette offers great coffee and small caprese or chorizo sandwiches. In the summer, they will have ice cream from Cry Babys Creamery to create a DIY affogato, if you so choose, but for now, embrace the indoor warmth and hefty sweater season of winter. Only the cold can make you remember how delicious a hot coffee can be. 

Opera For A New Audience: The Regina Opera

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Arts

Regina Opera will present the opera “Cavalleria Rusticana” for 6 performances from March 2 to March 10, and 6 Performances of “Lucia di Lammermoor” in May 2024.

New interest unlocked: I’m now an opera-goer

On a chilly, sunny Sunday in November I took a quick train ride south to Sunset Park. I found myself outside of an unassuming catholic academy, Our Lady of the Perpetual Help, home of Brooklyn’s Regina Opera. I had never heard of this opera company before, and I was unsure of what my next few hours would be like. I stepped in line to check in and hand over my ticket information. Beyond the line of patrons, I could see peeks of a beautiful auditorium that didn’t seem to match the mundane façade I’d just stepped into. 

As I funneled into the theater, the President of the Regina Opera, Fran Garber-Cohen, hosted a raffle on stage for vouchers to local restaurants like Johnny’s Pizza. “The BEST”, she called it. There are so many versions of New York to experience in this city, and this was one I hadn’t yet seen. The audience was filled with mostly seniors who I assumed had lived their lives around these blocks, with a sprinkling of younger folks here and there. I people watched as everyone filed into their seats, eavesdropped on complaints about the holidays, discussions of where to eat after the show, and witnessed many a patron shushed by quiet onlookers awaiting the start of the performance. 

Then orchestra began to play.

My seat neighbors and I looked around at each other with wide eyes as the room quickly transformed from school-like raffle to the ominous moody scene that is Act I of Rigoletto – and that was just the string section. As the full 30-piece orchestra began to play, the lights dimmed, and a moody apprehension crept over the crowd. The curtains parted to reveal the grandeur of the stage and those sharing it.

Peter Hakjoon Kim (left) and Veronica Mak (right) as the father-daughter pairing of Rigoletto and Gilda in Rigoletto. Photography by C. Michael Clark.

The opera world is a small but international one. Many of the artists here come from acclaimed stages and programs around the world such as Julliard, the Metropolitan Opera House, Carnegie Hall, The Royal Opera House Muscat, and the Korea National Opera to name a few. Many take part in Regina Opera productions between shows overseas. 

Christopher Trapani (left) as the Duke of Mantua alongside Veronica Mak as Gilda. Photography by Meg Goldman.

The entire production – orchestra, costumes, set design, lighting, cast, vocal performances – was Metropolitan Opera caliber but at the cost of $25 and in the intimacy of a small theater where there are no bad seats.

Regina Opera’s mission is to bring opera to new audiences and communities affordably. In doing so, they support an underserved community with art and commerce, and the craft lives on beyond its notably senior audiences. But these affordable tickets don’t come with any lack of effort or output.

The entire cast and crew is extremely dedicated to their craft and does the research to ensure each production is of a traditional, professional quality. The stage director, Sabrina Palladino, spoke to me about the research that goes into producing and directing an opera. History is one of her passions and she was excited to bring every detail to life in her directorial debut at the Regina Opera. She even included replicas of paintings that hung in the real Duke of Mantua’s palace in the set. 

Passion, creativity, and excitement for her craft so genuinely spilled into our conversation as she told me about the joy it gives her to bring productions to life. 

Opera has been a part of Palladino’s life from the beginning. She sang Cavalleria Rusticana each Easter morning with her mother, an opera that’s particularly close to her heart. “I’ve watched it, I’ve sung it, I’ve performed it – that opera is a part of me.” This spring, Palladino can add directing it to her resume, as well. You can see Cavalleria Rusticana at the Regina Opera in March 2024. 

The Regina Opera will also be hosting performances of Lucia Di Lammermoor in May 2024, as well as some outdoor concert series to round out their 54th season. You can find free online recordings of their performances on YouTube, a platform they utilized to cope with the pandemic. Sadly, many of the relief funds doled out to small businesses didn’t apply to them as they are a non-profit. They took to the streets to share their craft and uploaded videos for those who couldn’t leave their homes.

They will also be hosting “date-night” performances on Fridays for their upcoming productions. If you’d like to get involved – be it volunteering, fundraising, or performing – reach out via their website. 

Take advantage of this incredible, enriching, affordable resource in our community. I’ll see ya at Johnny’s Pizza after the show. 

The Big Picture

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life, Sports

The nice view of the Umpire.

In the past few months, I’ve had some pretty significant realizations about perspective. I don’t often consider subjective interpretations of observable phenomena. However, I’ve come to accept that your physical and emotional perspective can significantly impact WHAT you literally see. Your perspective doesn’t impact what is actually there, or what objectively happens. But, your perspective can influence what you’re looking for, and ultimately can make you sure that you saw something that didn’t even happen.

I, honestly, didn’t realize just how much what I saw could differ so drastically from what others saw, when looking at the same thing. If someone saw something differently from what I saw, I figured they were either wrong, or at least physically seeing things differently. However, my experiences as a new baseball/softball umpire this past spring highlighted how what one sees is influenced by both what they think they’re supposed to see, and also what they want to see. I’ve played and coached these sports for decades, and I’ve witnessed and been a part of my fair share of plays. I assumed that my experienced perspective would help me be a better sports official. I’ve since realized that my coaching and player experience is very different from my perspective as an official, literally and figuratively.

When you’re coaching baseball, softball, or any other sport for that matter, you’re watching the game from one particular perspective, that of a coach. As a baseball or softball coach, in particular, you want to see something specific, especially with a pitch. As a coach, you want to see that pitch within the strike zone without a swing when that pitcher on the mound is your own player. But when the pitcher is not your own player and it’s YOUR batter up at plate, you want to see that pitch out of the strike zone. So, as a coach, you moan or groan at calls you disagree with only when they don’t favor the outcome you seek, and not whether they’re the right or wrong call. Let’s be serious: coaches don’t have any view on a pitched ball to see if it’s actually in the strike zone. Coaches in the dugout or coaching base runners at 1st or 3rd base have absolutely NO perspective to allow for a determination as to whether a pitch has fallen within the approximately 1.4- 2 square foot zone that extends from the batter’s knee caps to their armpits, depending on the rules any particular league is following. When a coach moans and groans about a called pitch, it’s because they didn’t get the outcome they wanted: a called strike if the pitcher is their player, or a called ball if the batter is their player. The coach’s reaction to an umpire’s call is not necessarily related to the reality of where that ball traveled through the air as it reached home plate. 

The person with the best perspective on the location of that pitch is the plate umpire, the official behind home plate. The plate umpire is right there. They’ve set themselves up in exactly the right position so that they can see if that pitch crosses the plate or not, and whether the height of the pitch is appropriate to the height and stance of the batter. 

You might argue that the batter has a valuable perspective to make a determination about balls and strikes, but they don’t. The batter can’t accurately see if that pitch is a strike or not because the batter’s looking at the ball; they’re not looking at the plate.They actually don’t even see the plate if they’re doing what they’re supposed to do, which is “keeping their eye on the ball”. The batter makes educated guesses about when they should swing and where they should swing based on what they see about the pitcher’s motion and the trajectory of the ball as it comes at them. The batter’s not even really sure of where that ball is in space, unless and until they hit it.

You could argue the pitcher can make a pretty good call on their own pitch. They’ve got an unobstructed view of the plate, after all. But, the pitcher’s perspective has two problems: they’re up to 60.5 feet away from where the ball ultimately ends, and… they have “skin in the game”. That connection to the outcome of the call skews your perspective more than most people will admit. 

You might think that the catcher would be the person in the best position to see the pitch and whether it’s a strike or not. They’ve got an unobstructed view of the pitch coming towards them, and are far enough away to see all the contours of home plate. Their head is generally at the level of the strike zone, too. But there are some major concerns circling the mind of the catcher that make them less likely than the umpire to make the right call. The catcher isn’t just observing the pitch, they are working the pitch. The catcher is making rapid decisions on their own effort as the ball is coming at them. They are not just thinking “where is the ball? Did it come in over the plate? To the right or the left? High or low?” The catcher is thinking: “Am I gonna catch this? Am I gonna stop this ball? Am I gonna get hit in the head by a desperate batter swinging their bat with no limited awareness of where the ball is? Am I gonna allow that runner from 3rd base to score if the wildly pitched ball gets past me? And you. Runner on first base. I see you taking a big lead. Take an extra step and I’ll get you out before you can dive back to first.” So, although the catcher is in a great physical location to consider whether or not that pitch is a strike, the catcher is not mentally prepared to make a decision about whether or not that pitch was in the zone. They are pre-occupied by their actual role in the ball game, and their perspective is not objective.

The plate umpire is in the best position, physically and mentally, to make the determination on that pitch, regardless of what the parents in left field foul territory are screaming, or even the parents behind the backstop. Those backstop parents can be the worst. They think because they’re behind the umpire they have the same view. But they don’t. They can’t even see the entire plate from that angle. The umpire, catcher AND batter are all obscuring their view. But, that doesn’t stop them from opening up their mouths and loudly complaining. 

When anyone moans or groans about an umpire’s call, it’s usually not because they didn’t didn’t get the call that should have been made based on what they saw; it’s because they didn’t get the call they wanted. And what they think they saw is related to what they wanted, even if it wasn’t actually what happened.

The umpire is in the best position to objectively see that pitch. If the teams have played their cards right the umpire really doesn’t care if the pitch is a strike or a ball because the umpire shouldn’t care who wins or loses. However, when coaches, players and spectators loudly question the umpire’s ability, or visual acumen, the umpire might not feel particularly objective. Umpires are human, and what we see can also be skewed by what we hope to see. So, when people moan and groan at umpires, they’re actually making it less likely that an umpire will be objective on a future call. How’s that for a great reason to shut the heck up?

Umpires don’t just make calls on pitches. They also make calls on plays in the field. Did the ball get caught by a fielder making contact with the base before the runner came in contact with that base? Did the baserunner get tagged? These are usually simple calls, but sometimes they are more difficult than observers would think. Oftentimes, other parties to a play, including baserunners, fielders and even some coaches (but rarely spectators), are in a better position than a plate or field umpire to view the important components of a play. But, just because these players and coaches might have a better literal perspective on the play, they might not actually have the objectivity to see the play clearly.

Fielders, runners and base coaches sometimes might be in a better position than the umpire making the call, because umpires have physical and space limitations. In major league baseball games there are FOUR umpires on the field at any given time, each with a specific role. The umpires work together as a team, but their individual roles are distinct. And, yes, even the most experienced and highly regarded umpires get overruled by video replay technology and appeal processes every once in a while. In almost all of the games I have umpired, I was the only umpire on the field. No team of experts. Just me. A single umpire in that position has to do the job that otherwise takes four people to competently perform. 

As the only umpire covering a game, I have to be prepared for many different roles. I position myself behind the plate for most of the game, because that’s where most of my work will be done: calling balls and strikes. When a ball is hit onto the field, or a runner attempts a steal, I have to quickly jump up, remove my mask and find a physical space where I ensure that I have the clearest view on the play that I anticipate I’m going to need to call. 

With only one set of eyes, I use my knowledge and experience of the game, along with my expectations of the ability of the players on the field, to determine where I should look. First, I have to look at the trajectory of the batted ball. I have to make a determination of whether the ball was caught, or not, and where in relation to the dimensions of the field the ball contacted a fielder or the ground. At that point, if the ball is still live and in play I have more decisions to make about what to look at. 

Should I look at whether the runner who just hit the ball reaches first base before a play is made there? Or, based on where the ball was hit, and the skill of which fielder receives it, should I look at another runner who’s running from 1st, 2nd or 3rd base. I might need to determine whether one or multiple baserunners successfully make it to their next base. Luckily, there’s only one ball on play at any given time, so there is no need to make simultaneous calls on how a ball is played. However, the umpire has to pay attention to other happenings on that field that don’t relate to the ball, at all. 

For instance, baserunners are required to touch bases, and the umpire is responsible for observing such contact in case the opposing team appeals that a runner missed a base. Fielders are not allowed to obstruct baserunners in their progress around the bases, and umpires are responsible for recognizing such, and awarding baserunners the appropriate base as a penalty. Sometimes the umpire has to make assumptions about something that has happened on the field, because they can’t possibly witness simultaneous occurrences too far apart to physically observe in the same view. There is a lot going on in the field, and the umpire is expected to know what to look at, and have an objective perspective on everything they see. 

In situations when all of the meaningful attention is on one particular interaction on the field involving the ball, a fielder, and a baserunner, the umpire is in the best position, literally and figuratively, to make a call on a close play than any other actors, on and off the field. Players, coaches and fans are likely to be looking at that play subjectively: they are looking for what they want to happen, and, therefore, might see what might not have actually occurred. Umpires are most likely to be looking at what needs to be seen, and to see what actually happens. 

In one particular softball game this past spring, all of this crystallized for me. There was a close play on a runner advancing from 2nd to 3rd base on a ground ball. There was no one running from 1st to 2nd base, so there was no force on the play at 3rd base. The fielder could not simply touch the base after securing the ball before the runner arrived to make an out; the runner would need to be tagged by the fielder with the ball in their possession in order to make an out. From the position I took in front of home plate, between the catcher and the pitcher, after the ball passed the pitcher, I had a great view of the runner as they progressed to 3rd base. I could clearly see both relevant fielders: I looked at the shortstop as they received the ground ball, then turned towards 3rd base and threw the ball; I watched as the 3rd base player stepped on the base and outstretched their gloved hand to receive the throw; I watched the 3rd base player’s glove as the ball entered the pocket, and they brought their glove down to block the runner’s path to the base; I saw the runner attempt to avoid the tag by sliding in the dirt. It was close. The closest play I had to call all game, but not all season. I called the runner out. 

The fielders were thrilled. The runner accepted their fate and stood up and walked back towards their team’s dugout behind the first base line. I heard the moans and groans from the runner’s team in the first base dugout, and that team’s parents behind it. And I heard the coaches. Boy did I hear the coaches. One coach came out of the dugout with his arms over his head yelling at me. “Anyone watching that play saw that she was safe. THERE WAS NO WAY YOU SAW HER OUT.” He clearly saw the play differently than I did (or he was lying about what he saw in the hopes it would change my mind, but does that really work on an umpire? Please tell me “no”.) 

Based on his reaction, and the reactions of those around him, I believe he genuinely saw something completely different than I did. But what the coach and others saw is likely based on what they were looking for, and hoped to see. The coaches, players, and parents for the runner’s team were probably focused on the runner in the play. They saw their runner doing everything right. The coaches, players and parents for the runner’s team were probably not looking at the details of the fielders’ work. They were probably so focused on watching their player attempt the first slide of the game, that they didn’t see the third base player catch the ball and tag the runner before she made contact with 3rd base. They weren’t looking at it, or for it, and therefore didn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Though short on experience umpiring, I am long on experience coaching. I was not going to argue with the coach. I knew I had looked at all the right parts of the play. I called what I saw. There was no way I was overturning my own call. So, I simply turned to him, looked him in the eye, smiled and said “ok”. I was not agreeing with him and I was not going to change my call, either. I then looked past the coach into the dugout as I called for their next batter. The game went on. 

The runner’s team eventually won the game. It wasn’t even close. That call didn’t impact the outcome of the game. They were looking for the win, and they ultimately got what they were looking for, even if they didn’t get the call.