I am the minority white Jew in my neighborhood, which is strange for Brooklyn (or anywhere in New York) but understandable in my case because I live at the heart of the “Avenue of Puerto Ricas,” (aka Graham Ave). I am surrounded by senors and mama citas, a tough but lively group of people that keep Bushwick moving and shaking. There also happens to be a considerable amount of Chinese people who still outnumber me (every neighborhood needs their laundromat, right?).
Right now, there happens to be a massive parade rolling down my street, with floats and swanky cars and marching bands blasting salsa, reggaeton and some kind of choppy ghetto Spanish rap. A couple minutes ago there were llamas (seriously) and little ponies paraded outside my window…along with costumed men in Sombreros and lion masks, and school children wearing capes and crowns that looked like they were taken out of the Happy Meal box at Burger King.
Ah, that’s Graham for you. Never a dull day.
However this was a little more dramatic than usual Sundays on my street, and caught me by surprise since I’m not subscribed to the Fiesta 411 digest or whatever it is that keeps the neighborhood in the Latin loop.
Apparently, I have witnessed the Kings Day Parade, an annual winter happening that shakes up the frostbitten grounds of New York in early January from East Harlem to Brooklyn. This parade celebrates the “Feast of the Epiphany,” when, according to Latin traditions the day the three kings, Melchoir, Caspar and Baltazar visited the baby Jesus in the manger, bearing elaborate gifts. Something like that. Overtime, this has evolved into a present giving round two of the winter season, and an excuse to close down streets and have a party. I have no problem with that.
