Brooklyn is a noisy city.
There are sounds of car engines and music blaring from the open windows
of cars (why drivers open their windows to allow for their blasting music to
carry into the neighborhood in freezing weather is inexplicable). There is the racket of trucks bouncing their
heavy loads, grinding their gears, and making those beeping sounds when they
are backing up. There is the roar of
buses and the sound of trains rattling
over the tracks, the screeching of their brakes, the announcements made by the
conductors while the doors are open. There are the sounds of people talking and
shouting, dogs barking, cats meowing, children playing. The sounds geese
calling, birds twittering, and
helicopters – so many helicopters fly over Brooklyn, you’d think there was some
kind of reenactment of the Vietnam War going on. Sirens.
Constant sirens in the distance or near. Ambulances, fire engines, police vehicles. And most annoying is the ridiculous, useless sound of car alarms.
Honking, although illegal in New York City, unless necessary
to alert for danger, is constant. Drivers
honk to say hello, to discharge frustration, and just out of habit. There are areas – near hospitals and a few
blocks on some other streets – which are labeled no-honking zones. No one
seems to care. I lobbied the traffic
department to label our 7-block stretch across from the park as a no-honking zone. The signs were put up on lamp posts and the genius
of the department, or perhaps it was a passive aggressive action, was to put
them near the top so that no driver who wasn’t driving a convertible with the
top down and looking up at the sky would ever see them. It did no good. Traffic driving into Manhattan
at 6 a.m. liked to start their day with incessant honking.
But when it snowed, the City calmed down, especially when it snowed the first time in the season.
The first snowfall I experienced in Brooklyn was absolutely
magical. I was on Flatbush Avenue in Park Slope when huge 1” snowflakes began
descending in slow motion, like leaves falling gently from a tree. I stood there catching the snow on my gloves,
amazed at the size of the flakes, looking at their patterns. I raised my face to the clouds and saw the
snow coming down so slowly it was like I was inside a snow globe.
At first, the snow melted on the sidewalk. Then it started to accumulate in small
patches. I stood there enjoying the
experience until the sidewalk was covered in a light dusting of snow. As I walked home, I passed the 7th
Avenue subway stop and saw the expressions on people’s faces change as they
ascended onto the avenue. “It’s snowing.” More than one person said it reverently. Probably recent transplants like me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mN7LW0Y00kE (Dean Martin "Let It Snow")
By the time I got home, there was an inch of snow on the
sidewalk and I sat in the window near the radiator watching as the benches
across the street looked padded with snow.
The snow acted as sound-proofing for the general noise of
the City. And, there was little traffic.
The snowploughs wouldn’t arrive until
much later and people didn’t want to be skidding around. There were few people out. Folks generally wouldn’t be wearing their
snow boots before that first snow, so their feet get wet and they want to get
home.
That night, after I had been asleep for a while, I was awakened
by the sounds outside the window. I
looked out and saw a car was doubled parked, the engine running, steamy exhaust
rising from the muffler like incense smoke.
The passenger side door was wide open.
On the snow-covered curb, I saw a man chasing around a little boy 2 or 3
years old. The boy kept falling down and
laughing, positively gleeful.
When they left, I looked at the clock. It was 2 a.m.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed myself so much at that
hour of the morning.
The next morning, I built a snowman.
Post by Alana Cash
