This is a story about the rebirth of an old community and the birth of one of its new baby residents. More on that cute guy later but first things first. I promise not to throw out the baby with the bathwater.
Brooklyn, N.Y., which I memorably visited last week, is one of those communities where youth and diversity have conjured up magic. That is true of New York City in general, but in Brooklyn anything seems possible. Why, I might even seem hip in Brooklyn-which is obviously going too far but the theory still holds.
It wasn't always this way. Blame the Dodgers for saying goodbye in 1957 and taking a piece of its soul, but Brooklyn had years when it was simply gritty, not trendy. It is hard to imagine now but young men with fluffy beards, short hair and tight pants did not always frequent the joint.
For decades it was as if the great, storied melting pot had stale ingredients for its once piquant stew. Ironically, Brooklyn's reduced circumstances made it more affordable for young and old, but especially the young, trying to escape high rents in Manhattan.
Now the matronly old brownstones are in their glory again, animated by immigrants different from those of old. These ones drink lattes, ride bicycles and do yoga.
I sometimes think that all of America's grown-up children live in Brooklyn. Pied Piper, thy name is Brooklyn. My own Pittsburgh-born son, Jim, lives in Brooklyn. Last week, he and his wife Katie, who is from Massachusetts, added to the population by one. This was the aforementioned cute guy.
Nathaniel Crews Henry, to be called Nash, was born on April 22 at 2:12 p.m. A bantam among babies, he weighed in at 5 pounds 7 ounces, and his size and a long, trying labor put him in a monitoring nursery for a while. He did not come into the world with tight pants or a beard but he does have the short hair, which should set him right.
It is possible that this community news was not news to Brooklyn residents, as my wife Priscilla told every stranger she met, no matter how random. It just goes to show that before social media, social grandmothers were there to do the job.
As a reserved fellow, I found these impromptu birth announcements a bit embarrassing-that is, until she told a bartender in a restaurant about Nash's birth and I was given a free beer to mark the occasion. I am now reviewing my attitude.
My grandfatherly responsibilities were not extensive. Grandpas also serve who but stand and wait and are otherwise expected to make themselves scarce and entertain any other visiting grandpas gathered to await the stork.
But I did get roped into one gross adventure. After the delivery, I got the job of helping to carry the placenta home from the hospital in an ice-filled plastic bag. Why anybody would want such a souvenir beats me but apparently it is not unusual. I think the baby's little elf cap would be a better memento and take up less fridge space.
As it was, I felt like a darned fool. I imagine that a passing hipster saw me and said: "Hey, look at that old guy carrying the plastic bag." And his partner then said, "Yeah, man, probably got a placenta in there!"
Did I mention that Brooklyn is a place where anything can happen?
Overall, however, I felt exultant. Nash has been born into a quarrelsome world but my feelings, touched by the miracle of birth and the attendant beating of angels' wings, were altogether optimistic. Being in the tolerant precincts of Brooklyn, wonderful in its racial, cultural and sexual diversity, played a part in that.
We all know that certain politicians have lately been going about the land sowing negativity for their own ends. One says that we need "to make America great again!" Again?
Sorry, bub, get out of your limousine and have a look at how a society can work when the walls between people are torn down, not built up. Brooklyn is no different from the United States, except in perhaps latte consumption and the wearing of tight pants. It is a city in a country constantly reconstructed and reborn by its nature.
America has always been great and every new American born free of the old prejudices makes it better. Hello, Nash. Glad you came.