The new home of Daniel Adler and family is 105 Grattan St. The area teems with young, individually minded people, and awaits imminent gentrification. Instead of the condescending, measuring looks people give when you’re on Bedford Ave., the people here nod and, if you do, smile. They are locals, and because you know about this scene, they assume you are too.
Our apartment is exactly where I wanted to be. It’s a quiet tree-and-brick-apartment-lined street that is in the middle of an industrial zone. There is lots of barbed wire, and caught, shredded plastic bags. Graffitti is the avant garde art, but there are a few local galleries too. Today, Roberta’s had an Oktoberfest party with live music and brats.
A five step stoop leads you into the hallway and our front door, marked 1R in black lettering on gold tape. Julie will have the front well-lit room, off the cozy kitchen. A long hallway leads past Matthew’s dark middle room and through my room to the private backyard, equipped with lawn accessories (which the current tenants are kind enough to leave us). There are no stink bugs.
Julie, my cuz, was unsure at first, but one of the tenants reassured her about the neighborhood when he told her about “the best bar in America.” And so the harvest begins.