Cover Photo: Floyd Bennett Field Bus Stop for Migrant Family Shelter
The following photo appears on the cover of the Feb. 15, 2024 issue; it shows migrants living in the family shelter at Floyd Bennett Field arriving at the bus stop.
The Average New York Worker Predicted to ‘Burnout’ on June 20th 2024, Finds Study
• This burnout date happens 172 days into 2024.
• Lawyers experience burnout the soonest; those in energy the latest.
• New interactive map for the predicted burnout days for workers in each state.
A screenshot of the Software Connect interactive map on burnout, with the mouse hovering over New York State.
In an era where digital connectivity knows no bounds, countless workers find themselves trapped in a seemingly endless workday. Remote work, once seen as a liberating evolution, now chains many to a cycle of perpetual availability. With smartphones pinging after hours with emails and schedules, the division between work and rest blurs into obscurity.
To rub salt in the wound, IT sheriffs track the clickety-clack of productivity—or lack thereof. Yet, this relentless grind exacts a heavy toll: chronic workplace stress. Manifesting as extreme exhaustion, a growing resentment toward one’s job, and a marked drop in performance, these symptoms herald the onset of burnout – a state that straddles the line between stress and a depression borne of overwork.
Illustration by Christine Stoddard.
SoftwareConnect.com recently conducted a survey of 3,000 workers, which sought to pinpoint the day the average worker succumbs to burnout. Alarmingly, the threshold is crossed just 183 days into the year, by July 1st.
But for legal professionals, the sprint to burnout ends even sooner. By June 10th, lawyers are already throwing in their briefcases, and who can blame them? With notoriously long work hours, they’re in a league of their own when it comes to occupational exhaustion. In contrast, energy professionals demonstrate remarkable resilience, burning out the latest. By July 18th, while others are faltering, those in the energy sector are still going strong. With the critical responsibility of maintaining our power supplies and often working in challenging conditions, they manage to stay powered up longer than anyone else.
Regionally, Delaware’s workers bear the brunt of burnout earliest, by March 19th, while those in New York encounter it later, on June 20th – a full 172 days into the year.
Software Connect has created an interactive map showing the predicted burn out days for workers in each state (click on ‘embed’ to host the map on your site)
“In the current landscape, where technology has rendered us constantly accessible, the pressure to perform is relentless,” states Jeff Budiac from Software Connect. “Our survey reveals a troubling trend towards a nation on the edge of occupational burnout. It’s a clarion call for a re-evaluation of work-life balance in the digital age.”
Source: SoftwareConnect.com
Tribute to Kellogg’s Diner
By Madeline Edalow | news@queensledger.com
A view of Kellogg’s Diner from December 2023. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
New York City is ever-changing and long time residents grow accustomed to iconic establishments disappearing.
I am a life-long New Yorker. Within my lifetime, the gentrification of Northern Brooklyn has progressed at lightening speed. The luxury establishments that continue to open often feel inaccessible to me. I often feel like a tourist in the city I grew up in, not recognizing neighborhoods where I used to spend a lot of time.
As the area surrounding the Lorimer L train in Williamsburg Brooklyn felt the impact of trendy hipsterdom, one spot felt accessible to a wide range of people. I am speaking of Kellogg’s Diner.
Kellogg’s Diner has been open for nearly a century and will be opening with new ownership this year after renovations are complete. The original owners of the restaurant gave up after a long period of financial hardship. Irene Siderakis, the most recent owner, struggled to keep the doors open after the tragic passing of her husband, who previously ran the restaurant. The new management plans to make changes to the establishment, so that it is more appealing to neighborhood patrons. It is still uncertain whether the new restaurant will hold up to what Kellogg’s represented.
Kellogg’s, in its way, was a universal meeting space. I don’t think I’ve eaten there once without seeing someone else I knew. The 24-hour schedule caused every person who partied nearby until the early hours of the morning to commune at the diner. The schedule also motivated some people to travel from distant neighborhoods to eat and drink.
I remember performing at an open mic on the Lower East Side and heading to Kellogg’s with a comedian friend after the end of the mic. I ordered the most enormous mozzarella sticks I’ve ever had. I was extremely intoxicated, but I remember that night well because I ran into an old friend I’d known through high school friends. I had entered with a friend I knew through mostly transplant-filled art scenes when I ran into this friend from the past. As a lifelong Brooklynite, it is always comforting to run into people associated with my upbringing, especially as it gets rarer and rarer. Like I said, Kellogg’s served as a universal meeting space, where old New York meets new New York.
The plans to redevelop the diner include reinstating the 24-hour schedule and a new Tex-Mex menu. The new owner and management have a history of running other successful trendy establishments. The restaurant will also have a new cocktail bar.
I imagine the new direction for the famed diner location will be a success as the new influx of Brooklyn residents can’t seem to get enough of establishments that sell fancy cocktails.
I wish the new ownership well and hope they are able to keep their doors open for another century, even with the changes. The building staying a somewhat similar business is comforting to me and likely others who struggle to recognize their home city. I am hopeful that the menu will be affordable to the average New Yorker and not just the progressively wealthier residents of Williamsburg.
In this ever-changing city, it is harder and harder for classic spots, like neighborhood diners, to keep their doors open as they don’t provide for the modern tastes that have become popular in Brooklyn. I hope that even with the differences, there will still be places where new New York can meet with old New York. We will have to wait and see if the new management of Kellogg’s can provide for a wide community. I certainly hope so.
Madeline Edalow is an artist of many mediums and writer raised in Brooklyn. She is a graduate of City As School, the oldest alternative public high school in New York City. For work, she face paints at events of all kinds and is also a teaching artist at schools all over the city. She is a current student studying Public Administration at Medgar Evers College. She is deeply inspired by her upbringing in this wonderful city full of people from all over the world.
‘Believe the Hype’ Column: Standout Asian Cuisine & Migration of Two Kinds
By Christine Stoddard | cstoddard@queensledger.com
The best meal I had on the go this week–and, yes, I am so often on the go–was the Braised Chicken Congee Bowl at Maya Congee Café. Though I have passed the Fulton St. location in Clinton Hill on many occasions, this was my first visit. Decked out in red and gold, the quaint spot, which houses a small market, cheerfully reminded me that it was Lunar New Year. We are in the Year of the Dragon, which happens to be my Chinese Zodiac sign. How fortuitous.
View of Maya Congee Café front door. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Chino Grande
Now, my best sit-down meal of the week goes to Chino Grande, owned by Josh Ku of Win Son fame. Nestled on Grand St. in South Williamsburg, the Asian/Latin fusion restaurant even boasts regular karaoke. While I did not stay to sing my heart out, I have no regrets. The chic Mid-century design immediately pulled me in, setting a tone of relaxed sophistication. The green booths felt serene and the friendly staff contributed to the comfy atmosphere. My date and I delighted in the Chips (plantain, taro, and sweet potato) with the Sauce Caddy (Green Sauce, Ketchupmayo, Spicy Duck Sauce). We also shared the Crab Rangoon Toast and Pilón Smashed Cucumbers, and each ordered a Chorizo Egg Roll. For large dishes, I was very pleased with the presentation of the Twice Cooked Chicharrón de Cerdo (leeks, shishitos, fermented chili paste) and the lightness of the Salchicha Arroz Chaufa (longaniza, lap cheong, chorizo, red peppers, peas), which was the most guilt-free fried rice I can remember tasting. For a cocktail, I opted for the popular Chiquita Chinita (Mezcal, Red Bull Pepper, Toasted Rice), while my partner ordered the Ni Haody! (Rye, Jujube, Black Walnut, Sweet Vermouth). We finished with the tantalizing Ice Cream Sandwich (Maria cookies, guava, and cheese), which just so happened to combine some of my childhood favorites.
Chips and sauce caddy at Chino Grande. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Hardware & Discount Store
My biggest shock in the local business community this week was seeing that Fulton Home Center and Hardware Corporation is moving. You, like me, may better know this neighborhood shop simply as “Hardware & Discount Store,” as that is what’s printed on its awning. It is, or shall I say was, located near the Nostrand Ave. stop on the A/C. Now it is moving to 1507 Fulton St., by Kingston and Fulton. According to hand-written signs taped to the windows, the shop lost its lease after 40 years. I popped my head inside as movers cleared decades of inventory, and briefly spoke to the understandably frazzled owner, who took my business card and then had to get back to work. Any tips are appreciated.
Sign taped to the window of Hardware & Discount Store on Fulton St. in Bed-Stuy. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Floyd Bennett Field Migrant Shelter Bus Service
Family tent shelter at Floyd Bennett Field. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Ever since I heard about the migrant family shelter opening at Floyd Bennett Field, I have had concerns. The park is a known flood plain; on virtually any visit after a rainstorm, I have noticed soggy ground and huge puddles. In January, a rainstorm sent the city scrambling to relocate 2,000 parents and children from the tent shelter to James Madison High School in Midwood. Some Madison parents protested and there were complaints about how much sense the last-minute, poorly planned move made for a one-night respite.
Q35 bus stop outside of Floyd Bennett Field. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Apart from the flood plain issue, I have wondered about public transportation there. I have only ever driven to Floyd Bennett Field, located on the tailend of Flatbush Ave., going toward the Marine Parkway-Gil Hodges Memorial Bridge. There is a no-man’s-land quality to the park, which is littered with abandoned buildings and empty lots. The Q35 bus stop, which you will find just outside of the park, is a solid 5-7-minute walk from where the shelter tents are stationed. Make it 10 for the parents walking with younger children and strollers. In the nearly two hours I observed there on a windy Friday afternoon (after-school hours), the bus came three times. Many migrants waiting for the bus did not have proper winter coats. Their situation is dire.
Large empty lots stand in the way between the family shelter and the Q35 stop at Floyd Bennett Field. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
Would you a weld a steel rose for Valentine’s Day?
By Christine Stoddard | cstoddard@queensledger.com
Editor’s note: An earlier version of this review first appeared in Quail Bell Magazine:
The couple that welds together stays together. Certainly, I felt bonded with my partner (and frequent collaborator) Aaron Gold the night we hit up Craftsman Ave. in Gowanus for the “weld a steel rose” date night. We entered this gritty workshop fully expecting to try something new and get our hands dirty. And by “we,” I mean me. I hadn’t given Aaron too many hints about our destination because I wanted it to be a surprise. Surprises make date nights all the more thrilling! He knew we would be doing a couples activity and I had warned him to wear sturdy shoes and old clothes. Nada más. Upon our arrival, Aaron and I were warmly greeted by Chris Jeffries, owner of Craftsman Ave. and our instructor for the evening. He escorted us to a private workbench in a romantic little nook, separate from the rest of the small group in the cozy school and event space. Chris said he liked to give the date night couple their alone time and that he’s not one to hover. Even better? Chris kept his promise and let the workshop remain a secret until absolutely necessary. When the right moment came, Aaron was floored by the big reveal. Chris flashed several samples of gorgeous steel roses fabricated in that very workshop. Soon it would be our turn.
Craftsman Ave. is a place where beautiful but practical craft happens. We felt honored to not only witness the magic there but to conjure some of our own. It all happened step by step. Chris showed the group what to do and he made the rounds to ensure we were all on track. I’m the craftier of the two of us, so it was important to me that Aaron didn’t feel left out. That was the beauty of the process: Each step required different skills and could be improvised and personalized to some extent. Honestly, he was better at some steps than I was and it was satisfying to see a new side of him. It’s worth noting, though, that there is no “right” way to weld a steel rose at Craftsman Ave. There’s plenty of leeway to make your creation a unique expression of your love. Without the pressure of perfection, Aaron and I had a lot more freedom than I had realized we would when I booked this date night. Phew! And yay!
It wasn’t long before we got a hang of the basic process and were able to replicate the steps sans Chris. That’s where the lovey-dovey stuff came in. We had time to flirt, goof off, and just have fun together in a new environment. At a good stopping point, we enjoyed a bottle of wine from Gowanus Wine Merchants and a pizza from Table 87, which Chris had delivered. There was a comfy lounge at the front of the shop, away from the welding action, where we dined.
This was the first time either Aaron or I had ever welded. I had only done minor soldering in jewelry class about a decade prior. Welding and soldering are similar but different processes. Trust me—my “experience” barely counts. Despite being first-timers, we made something beautiful and felt totally safe doing it. After a relaxing four hours, we finished our first rose together! We even got to engrave and paint it, too.
We found this date night so remarkable for a few reasons:
1. We picked up a skill that looks super intimidating but, with the power of trust and love, is actually pretty manageable.
2. Chris is a delight. He knew when to pipe up and when to leave us be. Having some level of privacy is essential for date nights. That’s how you get to know each other better!
3. The food came to us. The menu was simple, delicious, and involved zero hassle in filling our bellies without derailing our craft project.
4. WE GOT TO TAKE HOME OUR CREATION AT THE END OF THE NIGHT!!! So many date nights revolving around crafts make you come back another day. For a variety reasons, this isn’t always practical. By the time we drove home, the rose was dry and ready for display.
5. None of our friends have done it! It’s truly a unique date night worth telling folks about. Everyone will want to see photos.
The verdict is in: You and your sweetie should consider welding a steel rose at Craftsman Ave. in Brooklyn. You’ll end up with a cute story and an eye-catching keepsake.
Find out more about this unusual date night idea at CraftsmanAve.com.
Brooklyn Poetry Feature: Madeleine French
The following appeared in the Feb. 8, 2024 print edition of the newspaper:
This week, we feature the talents of poet Madeleine French:
“Geode”
As we reached Tompkins Avenue, a Dave Brubeck tune tinkled from a restaurant,
while a little further down a breeze unfurled yellow, orange and blue
embroidered skirts on the sidewalk outside a vintage shop.
Our restaurant patio shone with subdued light through an opaque white roof.
Even the butter lettuce gave a side eye to our muted words, as if it could tell
a melancholy errand brought us here. And our smiles might have been
a little stilted, until the gelato melted in our mouths and made them real.
Home now, I’m not summoning up the charming little bookstore,
with its colorful titles lined up on shelves and tables.
(New and used together, just as you’d have arranged them)
Or remembering the bass beat blasting from a block party’s speakers
as we walked by, vibrating with the breath in my chest.
I’m not picturing the toddler in pink tulle, holding her daddy’s hand,
reflecting the uncertainty of each hesitant step in her comical frown—
exactly as you once did.
Instead, I’m thinking of the shimmering quartz you parked on
your new white windowsill, just until you find the right place for it,
sparkling silvery diamond white next to your African violet.
Something beautiful in you might just be breaking open, too.
Art photography by Christine Stoddard.
“On Brooklyn Bridge”
Look at us, dressed for two different days
as if we’d watched dueling forecasts
I’m in a quilted jacket with jeans
while your flannel shirt
flaps in the breeze
over your tee and shorts
Puffy clouds cover the sky
like some preschooler went rogue
with the Elmer’s and cotton balls
Whatever, it all works
—even if no one can make you as mad
as I can—
Just keep walking over these wooden slats
as the bridge slopes toward South Street
the dark river glittering in the gaps
where the sun pokes its fingers
Art photography by Christine Stoddard.
“Your Heart, Across Prospect Park”
Pondering
blush-orange clouds
crackled over Sarasota Bay,
Maybe
I met six-thirty
from the wrong side.
In this dreamlight, I see you
Tramping
your sidewalk’s crusted slush
in Brooklyn,
Maybe
you’ve just set off
(chin tucked,
black hood bobbing)
Bearing
your battered heart
across Prospect Park.
Maybe
it’s a matter of timing
that’s all—right now, it’s
neither wrong, nor right
Crossing
Seventh, wrinkling your nose
at exhaust fumes
Maybe
you’ll lift your eyes
when my rosy clouds paint
your rooftops
Living
a movie, as a new dawn
slaps your cheek:
“Snap out of it!”
Maybe
you’ll see it’s day breaking,
flushed and undone
Not
your heart.
Art photography by Christine Stoddard.
Madeleine French lives in Florida and Virginia with her husband. A Best of the Net nominee, her work appears in ONE ART, Dust Poetry Magazine, West Trade Review, Roi Faineant Press, Door Is A Jar, and elsewhere. She is working on a full-length poetry collection.
An LGBTQ Love Story in ‘Public Obscenities’
By Christine Stoddard | cstoddard@queensledger.com
The following ran in the Feb. 8, 2024 print edition of the newspaper:
Abrar Haque (Choton) and Tashnuva Anan (Shou). Photo by Hollis King for TFANA.
A slow burn, Public Obscenities is a touching story about a Queer Studies PhD candidate who returns to his family home in Kolkata with his African-American boyfriend, a director of photography. Over the course of this 2-hour-and-40-minute play, the couple leans into many layers of pleasure and affect, discussing identity and exploring both the troubles and beauties of translation. This bilingual play, written and directed by Shayok Misha Chowdhury, is performed in English and Bangla. The run, which began on Jan. 17, continues through Feb. 18.
Theatre for a New Audience (TFANA) is the producer and presenter of this show. The venue is the Polonsky Shakespeare Center, which TFANA calls home, and is located at 262 Ashland Pl. in Fort Greene.
Remaining Show Dates:
Feb. 8, 7:30pm
Feb. 9, 7:30pm
Feb. 10, 2 & 7:30pm
Feb. 11, 2 & 7:30pm
Feb. 13, 7:30pm
Feb. 14, 7:30pm
Feb. 15, 7:30pm
Feb. 16, 7:30pm
Feb. 17, 2 & 7:30pm
Feb. 18, 2 & 7:30pm
‘Teaching On Borrowed Time’: The Voice of an Adjunct Professor
By Laurence C. Schwartz | news@queensledger.com
Editor’s Note: In our sister paper, the Queens Ledger, reporters Charlie Finnerty and Celia Bernhardt have been covering the last-minute layoffs of more than 20 faculty at Queens College-CUNY. This week, we are profiling a book related to adjunct injustice, including intense schedules and financial challenges, as well as some of the rewards of the job, with mention of Brooklyn.
The following is an excerpt from the book Teaching on Borrowed Time: An Adjunct’s Memoir by Laurence C. Schwartz of New York City, reprinted with permission here. The book guides the reader through his thirty-plus years of teaching part-time as an adjunct lecturer on the university circuit. Always unpredictable and never dull, Schwartz’s journey will take him to twenty different colleges and to twenty-three different subjects. Given that 65 percent of the nation’s undergraduate faculty consists of adjuncts, who have uncertain job security, Teaching on Borrowed Time gives voice to the adjunct community as well as those who stubbornly forge ahead in their professional quests for the sheer joy of the work.
You will find two passages about the author’s time teaching at Kingsborough Community College, part of the CUNY system:
Sometime after the first of the year, I was speaking with a Dr. Mortimer Becker in his office in the Western Cluster of Kingsborough Community College of the City University of New York. The Aspen Institute College Excellency Program ranked KCC among the top four community colleges in the nation. Dr. Becker chaired the Department of Communication and Performing Arts. From what little time I spent in his office, I concluded that I was in the presence of a true gentleman. When I attended Dr. Becker’s ceremonial dinner some months after my interview, one of the department’s secretaries referred to his “quiet dignity.”
One day, about halfway into the spring semester, I went to the Department of Communications and Performing Arts to check my mail. Dr. Becker emerged from his office. When he hired me, it was his last semester before retiring. During my first semester at KCC, Dr. Becker still used his office, but he already named a Dr. Cliff Hesse as the new chairman. After Dr. Becker emerged from his office, he smiled at me and, with the wave of his hand, gave me a lyrically dismissive gesture. On hindsight, I interpret this gesture to mean that I was way too young and clueless to really understand mortality. I think that when he made the gesture, he knew he didn’t have a long time left in this world. Dr. Becker died a few months later.
I was referred to Dr. Becker by Dr. Spector at LIU. I believe that during our interview, Dr. Becker was evaluating and assessing me, trying to sense if I had the strengths needed to teach a public speaking course at a reputable community college. At LIU, Dr. Pasternak just wanted to meet and make sure I was a well-spoken young man. I very much liked Dr. Becker. He made me feel welcomed. Mind you, I still tasted ash in my mouth from waiting tables and working in tense environments. Perhaps you can understand why I was so impressed by Dr. Becker’s gentleness and “quiet dignity.” When one works for curt and cold managers, one can tend to overappreciate plain humanity.
When I sensed the conclusion of my interview with Dr. Becker, I asked him, “So can I teach a course for you?”
“I’ll give you two. Come with me.”
He stood, came around from behind his desk, and made a gesture befitting a nobleman that parlayed that I was to lead the way. He certainly had a way of gesturing, Dr. Becker did. When he followed me out of his office, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said to his secretary, “Larry will be joining our adjunct faculty.” Then he turned to me. “Like to fill out the paperwork now?”
“Of course.”
Then Dr. Becker nodded to his secretary, cuing her to begin the process.
This was style!
“Welcome to Kingsborough,” his secretary said. And she meant it. She was a sweet elderly woman. There was another elderly secretary in the office who was just as sweet. I have since come to learn that among faculty and administration in academia, sweetness can be a welcomed surprise; eccentricity, a find for the ages. A cool and distant politeness is the norm.
I’ve always regretted not having the opportunity to get to know Dr. Becker. I suppose I could have learned a good deal from him about a great many things. He was the kind of man who, if you poked your head in his door and asked to see him about something, he would stop whatever he was doing and give you his time. Dr. Becker’s replacement, Dr. Cliff Hesse, was no different. A good man was chosen by a good man.
•••
Another small victory at KCC was introducing a couple of students to two of the books that I loved. One of the students was a jittery yet lithe Hispanic with a pencil-thin mustache. There was a restlessness in him that I recognized on the very first day of class. To this young man, I introduced Time of the Assassins by Henry Miller. This is Henry Miller’s tribute to French poet Arthur Rimbaud. You can appreciate it on more than one level, not the least of which is ecstatic appreciation one writer has for another. Another level is Miller’s dissection of the poet’s role in society. Another is Miller’s facile psychological analysis of Rimbaud. And, too, there is the sheer buoyancy of Miller’s prose. There are enough goodies on the plate to choose from.
When I handed the young man the book, he immediately turned to the first page and began reading.
“Thank you,” he said, “but why me?”
“Why not you?” I rejoined.
Another student to whom I introduced one of my more exciting and informative reads was a rotund young man with a jolly disposition. If he’d been dressed in red velvet and had a white beard on him and a red stocking cap on his head, he could have easily played Santa Claus’s young understudy. Why would I give a copy of Jean Paul Sartre’s Anti-Semite and Jew to such a young man? Like Time of the Assassins, you can appreciate Anti-Semite and Jew on more than one level, not the least of which is its probing examination of the bigoted and racist mind. In the spring of ’92, news of the Brooklyn killing of Yusef Hawkins and the Crown Heights riot were still fresh. Racism in America would always be a fresh topic of discussion, even if dishonestly approached. I was sure this young man could take something away from Sartre’s work. Anti-Semite and Jew was terrifically accessible.
Both young men thanked me when they returned the books, and both told me they enjoyed it—small but sweet victories.
Laurence C. Schwartz is a New York based theatre director and educator. He recently directed for the New York Theatre Festival. Last spring he directed Sam Shepard’s “True West” for the NYPL’s Special Event Series. He is currently directing for The Secret Theatre’s Short Play Festival. Laurence is an Adjunct Lecturer at Mercy University in Manhattan where he teaches Communications Arts and Cinema Studies.
Teaching on Borrowed Time can be found on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, LibroWorld.com, Magers & Quinn Booksellers, and eBay.
Letter from the Editor (Feb. 8, 2024 edition)
By Christine Stoddard | cstoddard@queensledger.com
The following appeared in the Feb. 8, 2024 print edition of the paper:
Dear readers,
On the cover of this issue, you will find a photo of a man named Francis. I met him in 2018 while living in Crown Heights and he was one of many neighbors whose photo I took. There is something so intimate about taking someone’s portrait: asking for a few moments of their time, maybe longer, and trying to capture something about essence. Maybe it is their essence. Maybe it is the essence of an era or a mood. The objectives can change from portrait to portrait, assignment to assignment, project to project. I do not know anything about Francis and his life now. I know that our paths crossed in late winter a few years ago, when I was still finding my footing in Brooklyn as a hopeful transplant. I also know that he is a Black man and that representing people of color and marginalized groups in our borough is part of my duty as community editor. There is no one way to be a Brooklynite. I am proud to wish you all a happy Black History Month. In last week’s issue, the love in honor of this annual observance began and in this week’s issue, the love continues.
One person I am excited to profile for Black History Month is Jada Bennett of Bay Ridge. Jada and I met in the theater world while working on a production together in 2022. It was through that relationship that I learned that Jada is not only an actress but a dancer, singer, beauty pageant queen, and an invaluable member of the Brooklyn Cyclones staff. This Minor League Baseball team plays out of Maimonides Park in Coney Island. Jada is captain of the team’s Surf Squad, sings the National Anthem at their games, and more. I interviewed her for “Badass Lady-Folk,” my Manhattan Neighborhood Network TV show, and transcribed part of the episode here for you to read.
Speaking of contacts from the theater world, I am also thrilled to introduce you to Laurence C. Schwartz, a director I have worked with since 2021. He wrote a book about his experiences as an adjunct professor. One of the many institutions whose classrooms he has graced is Kingsborough Community College, part of the CUNY system. An excerpt about his time there appears in this issue.
Now, onto reading!
Yours in all things BK,
Christine Stoddard
Brooklyn Community Editor
‘Believe the Hype’ Column: Revering African Artifacts and New Mexican Fare
By Christine Stoddard | cstoddard@queensledger.com
I stand corrected. In my previous column, I cited statistics about Brooklyn’s Black population using numbers provided by Brooklyn.org. While there was nothing wrong about those numbers (to my current knowledge), Matt Sollars, vice president of the non-profit communications firm Anat, sent me an email about Brooklyn.org. In my column, I wrote that Brooklyn.org was run by the Brooklyn Community Foundation. This was because, at time of press, the website’s footer, Brooklyn.org lists this: “© 2024 Brooklyn Community Foundation DBA Brooklyn Org.” But notice that there is no period between “Brooklyn” and “Org”–and if you didn’t know, DBA stands for “doing business as.” Sollars explained that last fall, the organization underwent a name change. Thus, Brooklyn Community Foundation became Brooklyn Org, and still runs the website Brooklyn.org. In his message, Sollars wrote: “The name change is driven by the org’s mission to engage with all of the borough’s communities and to open up philanthropy to all of its people. Brooklyn Org wants to be a platform and hub for Brooklynites to organize and support efforts to help each other and build the borough.”
It is exciting to receive emails like this for a few reasons: 1. I see that people are reading the column. 2. I get the chance to correct or clarify statements to better serve readers. 3. I learn more about our borough. 4. I feel invited to improve upon future columns.
An Overdue Museum Visit
Since the last edition of “Believe the Hype,” I have stopped by the Cultural Museum of African Art – The Eric Edwards Collection. Or at least “stopping by” was my intention. It ended up being a full-fledged visit, cut short only by other appointments. Every day for months, I have walked past this museum. The grand opening took place on November 18, 2023 only a couple of blocks from my home. This event happened prior to my coming on as community editor of the Brooklyn Downtown Star and Greenpoint Star. Had that not been the case, I might have joined some of the illustrious folks in attendance: Dr. Eric Edwards, founder and executive director of CMAAEEC; Stefani Zinerman, NYS Assemblymember, District 56; Rodney Leon, architect of the African Burial Ground National Monument, the “Ark of Return” at the United Nations, and CMAAEEC; Ambassador Sidique Abou-Bakarr Wai of Sierra Leone; Dr. Mohammed Nurhussein, chairman of the United African Congress; and others. Opening a museum is a political game that requires funding, which Eddie Gajadar, strategic project manager for CMAAEEC, told me has been a process for the institution.
A view of artifacts on display at CMAAEEC. Photo by Christine Stoddard.
By the numbers, CMAAEEC is an impressive collection (re-read last week’s edition for the stats), but, more importantly to me, it is a moving one. I am more likely to be swayed by art than data. The confusing jaunt around Restoration Plaza and to the office space above the Applebee’s was all worth the trouble when I saw the exhibition. African sculptures, masks, and objects of veneration that have been collected with care from across the continent are a rarity. As Gajadar mentioned, much of the African art at The Metropolitan Museum of Art is from East Africa, not spanning the whole continent. Yet Dr. Edwards, founder of the collection, which originated from his home in the 1970s, has taken great care to give these pieces a respectful public resting place. Gajadar told me that Dr. Edwards was a successful AT&T engineer and global salesman, achieving results that were largely unthinkable for an African-American man in the 1960s. African art became his investment—and obsession.
The CMAAEEC space is minimal, quiet, and full of light, allowing for reverence, reflection, and joy. That is the power of intentional design. I personally felt very peaceful looking at the works and then out the windows (yes, all of them), onto the bustling Fulton Street, one of the many arteries where Brooklyn street life pulses. It is fitting that CMAAEEC, a tribute to African ancestors, exists in Bedford-Stuyvesant, the capital of Brooklyn’s Black cultures.
Santa Fe BK
Another place that recently brought me joy and evidenced intentional design was Santa Fe BK in Williamsburg. John Watterberg, who owns the New Mexican restaurant with his wife, Melissa Klein, told me that what he hopes patrons most feel at their establishment is love. Watterberg, a native of Albuquerque, and Klein, a native of Milwaukee, first met in Brooklyn while working as a bartender and waitress, respectively. “We fell so in love in Summer 2007,” he said. And that love infuses the restaurant, which is warm and evocative of Southwestern aesthetics and hospitality.
My partner and I ordered (and highly recommend) the following: the Watterburger, Taco Salad, Chicken Flautas, and Chips & Queso. For drinks, we shared three cocktails: A Good Margarita (which is more than good), Queensmoot, and The Dornishman’s Wife. For a future visit, I am curious about the Enchiladas, as well breakfast burrito options available from 8am to 3pm, or “until they’re gone.” Note: I capitalized the names of the aforementioned dishes to indicate their exact names on the menu so you can order those specific things should you wander over to Santa Fe BK. Maybe for, say, Valentine’s Day.
Melissa (left) and John (right), the married couple behind Santa Fe BK.
While the restaurant has romantic vibes, Watterberg assured me they have a high chair and do serve families, with many dining before 7pm. Watterberg and Klein are parents themselves, with a 9-year-old boy and 5-year-old girl. Their children’s favorite item on the menu is the Bacon Burrito, without the Green Chile so beloved by many adult patrons.
One of my favorite touches at Santa Fe BK? Complimentary Sopapillas with honey. The fried pastries reminded me of the family-style restaurants of my Northern Virginia childhood—Uncle Julio’s in Arlington and Anita’s in Fairfax, for any other NoVa transplants reading this.