My Memories of Brighton and Brookline
As a child, Brighton meant traveling up the northeast coast from my native Long Island to visit my elderly grandmother who lived among other veteran Russian immigrants in an apartment complex off of Commonwealth Avenue. I remember trudging through February's sludge into the grey building's stale air, bombarded by the heavy, sharp aroma of boiled cabbage soup.
Almost two decades later, I found myself living only a few blocks away. I shared an apartment with two other newly religious young women, spending Sabbath mornings praying either at the Tolner Synagogue or the Modern Orthodox Young Israel. It was just a few blocks away from Coolidge Corner, the hippest Jewish section of Boston's outskirts, where I took a job working behind the counter at the now defunct Middle-Eastern cafe, Zaatar's Oven.
In those days, our preferred post-Sabbath outings were either hopping on the Green Line of the "T" to have a blast playing billiards at Jillians near Fenway Park, open-mike nights, enjoying two-for-one coupons for the best homemade ice cream at JP Licks, and special showings at the Coolidge Corner movie theater. You may visit some of these places, and I hope that your memories of Brighton and Brookline are as sweet as mine –except for the smell of cabbage soup.