That’s right, after spending about a week in Methodist Hospital back in 1957 I finally left Park Slope. And you know what, I didn’t even get to drool on Pete or Denis Hamill. No, they were probably too busy playing stickball to even care.
But I was able to smuggle out the maternity ward address in my diaper, just in case I ever need it to get my kids in PS 321.
So don’t feel bad, you weren’t the first person to move out of Park Slope for Kensington. Because I already did it back in 1957 and never knew the difference.
(My dad, brother Joseph and my mom holding me right out front of 399)