Reservations at the Gowanus Inn and Yard

It should have been simple.

Just a quick online search for a one night stay in Brooklyn in the middle of summer. Of course, I wanted to be as economical as possible after a no-holes-barred 5 days on the Cape for a family history trip with hubby, son and daughter-in-law. 

And it was simple.

At first.

The website listing that caught my eye showed a photo of a modern platform bed with tightly tucked sheets and a throw laying crosswise at the foot. A large undressed window, mid-century end table, and a potted Ficus Lyrata completed the decor of this $115 a night room. Other photos showed an updated bathroom in shades of white and a smart-looking lobby.

"What do you know about The Gowanus Inn and Yard?" I asked my son who lives in Bed-Stuy. He had lived in New York for a good five years and knew the Brooklyn boroughs better than this Floridian who only flew in sporadically.

"It's a great area. We go to the Whole Foods there and my favorite brewery is in the area. It's really up and coming. You should book it," he said.

And I was about to until I paused to look up some reviews. Even before I finished typing in the google search bar, autofill finished my sentence choices.

Gowanus Inn and Yard...deaths

What? 

I clicked over to read about a computer hacker who was found hanged in one of the rooms. 

Another news report read about a woman found dead in her bed, not of natural causes.

And still another more grim about a mother who killed her 6-year-old son during her stay at the Gowanus Inn. 

"But how long ago were those incidents?" My son asked me after I called him back quickly. 

"The oldest was in 2013. the latest was 2021," I replied.

"Because," he explained, "Gowanus has a rough history, but it's been cleaned up over the past few years. 

Before then, that creek was a hub of criminal and Mob activity. The stream grew so murky and polluted, it served as the perfect dumping ground for the latest homicide. 

Gowanus Canal, which runs through the town has a long checkered history.

The Dutch settled on what was a conflagration of several creeks where livestock drank and nearby farms were tilled. The brackish water, created by the bay and the freshwater creek fostered the perfect marine environment in which oysters could flourish. The Dutch harvested the little crustaceans and shipped them to England, Brooklyn's first real export, some say.

In the early part of the 20th century, industry began to swell along the rivulet's banks. 700 buildings rose up in one year in nearby Brooklyn. All those new residences needed a place to dump their sewage. That was beginning of the virgin creek's deflowering. 

Chemical plants and tanneries replaced cattle, cement plants marred the grassy banks. Oil refineries and machine shops blighted the pastures, while the fumes of coal gas and Sulfur production exuded odors that swallowed up the meadows' natural fragrances. The lake became so choked with pollutants that locals referred to it as "Lavender Lake" (Gowanuscanal.org).

As New York grew, so did crime. The fast influx of rival ethnicities spilled into the streets--and also the creek. Gowanus' murky, frothy water became the perfect place to dump, not only, factory run-off, but the latest homicide. 

In my mind, the current Gowanus rejuvenation was not complete enough for my comfort, regardless of my son's assurance.

I called Vrbo and canceled as quick as you could say, "Get-me-outta-here!"

We found a lovely room with a garden in a classic brownstone on Sterling Street, instead.

July Fading

Time ticks away the final hours of summer 

The sun shifts. The heat persists. Stroke after stoke, thoughts of classes, lessons and meetings erase the lingering softness of the season,

Vistas of Buzzard's Bay with rarely seen family, 

Walks on the crunchy, shelled beaches of Wings Neck, 

Happily braving the ocean winds on a Chappequiot island stroll to the Family Boathouse, 

    the same grey-shingled house where my mother would summer with her cousins as a child in the 30s

I wrap myself in the fraying shawl of summer comforts

    against the impending cold of schedules and obligations

I breathe the thinning air of sun-soaked Cape beach days, 

    dripping coconut popsicles from the ice cream truck 

Central Park picnic on a sultry afternoon. 

    Grown sons

     New friends

    Dogs and toddlers running mindlessly on the green slopes, 

        oblivious to anything but the pure joy of movement

Lamplights flickering at dusk

New York skyline silhouettes at sunset

July fading.    

God and the Metaverse

     In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. 

The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. 

And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. Genesis 1:1

        Enter man, woman and the snake (whether it took 6 days or 600 million years). Nothing was the same afterward. From that first moment in the Garden, at the snake's cunning coercion, man has been trying to usurp God's role, avert His authority and take his place as ruler of the universe. The tower of Babel was an attempt to rise as high as God. Numerous historic leaders like Caesar and Hitler have doled out life and death at will. Genetic engineering allows parents the ability to pick their baby's eye color. Medical science seeks to alter God-given gender.

    And now, key Palo Alto players are parading themselves as Zeus to create a new universe. 

The Metaverse.

    In this inner-space, people can recreate themselves as avatars or emojis. "Avatars" as a Hindu concept are defined as deities who manifest themselves on earth in bodily form. We all can create our preferred personality, physical traits and talents with emoji applications available on google play or the apple store.

  Apple. 

    The object that facilitated the first rebellious act against God. The bite in that fatal fruit was to "open one's eyes and make them like God," so Satan promised Adam and Eve. 

The metaverse is just an ancient idea contemporized by the most powerful people on the planet. Digital dictators who decree the value of our currency. Corporate demigods who compete with other platforms, companies, and websites to get your eyes looking at them the longest.

    We are complicit worshippers of these 21st-century deities. And they know everything about us--except maybe the number of hairs on our head and the amount of tears we cry. 

    Sadly, the Church has launched into the orbit of this new universe. What Covid-19 restrictions inseminated with video streamed church services, the metaverse has consummated. Now you can join a church that is entirely online, with no physical or real-world location. Your avatar will attend virtually, free from blemishes and wrinkles and always in perfect behavior. (1)

    The Christian Church, which is by definition an interactive body of believers living out their faith in the real world will be reduced to emojis, memes and comments via cyber forums. 

    I believe humans desire more substance that the illusive world of the metaverse. Where art is no longer a skill honed over years to produce fine sculpture, paintings and music. But has been demeaned to a digital code in the form of non-fungible tokens or NFTs.

    Try as culture may, emojis and air hugs cannot replace physical and emotional warmth, a gentle embrace and expressive nuance. Avatars cannot fix our facial flaws. Web profiles cannot redeem who we really are.

    It will take a Herculean effort to escape this cultural cosmic storm. Only the strong will get up and rejoin the human race,

come back to earth and live face-to-face.

    (1) 'Breakpoint' from The Colson Center, WRMB, 2-18-22