A biking map of Brooklyn on the wall. That’s the first thing you’ll see in my room. Right underneath it, a white hybrid Giant bicycle. A small wooden plaque with a picture of a bicycle with “Brooklyn” written above it is on display across the room. It’s rather misleading, actually. I do love both. Brooklyn, my new borough, has fast come to feel like home. I love the quiet, the sunshine that comes in through my two windows, my Park Slope island of peace within the city. And I love biking, too. Yet, these days, my bicycle serves more as a towel rack, its tires near empty, as I wait sheepishly for the warmth of spring to once again brave the streets of New York. The map is outdated in showing current bicycle lanes, yet it functions perfectly in helping me to map out my walking routes to Shabbat dinners across the borough.
Every item in my room has its obvious function, which is often secondary to its less apparent use. Besides my bicycle towel-rack and Shabbat map are my bookshelves. Two of them frame my room, and they are decoration. It’s not because I like to show off my collection (though who doesn’t, really?), and not only because I wedge photos of family and friends among the books. Rather, they adorn my room because they are arranged by color. My blue shelf of siddurim, Tanakhim, and a scrapbook sit above the green/purple shelf, a glorious mix of ancient and modern, traditional and trailblazing. Below that, the red/orange shelf, a similar mix, and at the bottom, the classic brown of our holy texts. Finally, a just started jigsaw puzzle on the floor of Norman Rockwell’s “The Shiner”. Primarily a source of relaxation, its secondary function is a reminder that sometimes a little bit of spunk can go a long way.
Every item in my room has its obvious function, which is often secondary to its less apparent use. Besides my bicycle towel-rack and Shabbat map are my bookshelves. Two of them frame my room, and they are decoration. It’s not because I like to show off my collection (though who doesn’t, really?), and not only because I wedge photos of family and friends among the books. Rather, they adorn my room because they are arranged by color. My blue shelf of siddurim, Tanakhim, and a scrapbook sit above the green/purple shelf, a glorious mix of ancient and modern, traditional and trailblazing. Below that, the red/orange shelf, a similar mix, and at the bottom, the classic brown of our holy texts. Finally, a just started jigsaw puzzle on the floor of Norman Rockwell’s “The Shiner”. Primarily a source of relaxation, its secondary function is a reminder that sometimes a little bit of spunk can go a long way.
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