Brooklyn, New York...Flatbush To Be Specific

“Brooklyn, New York, Flatbush to be specific…” These are the iconic opening words of Hip Hop legend Special Ed’s song Da Bush. To most, it’s just another track from the golden era of Hip Hop. But for me, it’s an anthem that resonates on a deeply personal level. That song, like Brooklyn itself, is woven into my DNA.

So coming back here wasn’t just another trip, it was my second home. It was the place that shaped me into the individual I am today. I went to Jr High School here(Walt Whitman), I went to High School here(Erasmus/Ehall), It was here I found out I was “dark skinned” but, that’s another story for another time,It was here I cultivated my gift of writing, it was here I nurtured friendships that would last decades,  it was also here that I learned the difference between ‘being in the streets’ versus ‘Understanding the streets’, I chose the latter. a decision that shaped the course of my life.

L to R: Akema, Myself, Rodrigua and Genny stooping down

Flatbush Ave McDonalds...If only we KNEW what we were eating:(

Brooklyn is everything you’ve ever heard about it, and things you’ve never been told. It’s raw, resilient, vibrant, and unapologetic. It’s unlike anywhere else, and more like nothing you’ve ever seen. I love everything about it. But this trip wasn’t just about nostalgia or reconnection, it was deeply personal. It was my first time back since surviving my COVID-19 odyssey, and it wasn’t celebratory. This was a trip born of necessity and loyalty to a lifelong friend.

I was in Atlanta, keeping busy with work, when I logged onto Facebook and saw a post that stopped me in my tracks. One of my lifelong friends, Arthur, had suffered a stroke and was hospitalized in Brooklyn. I hadn’t spoken to Arthur in a few months, so the news hit me hard. This wasn’t just a friend, Arthur is fam, We were a part of the same 4 man crew.

Arthur and I

The Facebook post was made by another old friend, another member of the 4 man crew Trion, someone I hadn’t spoken to in over 17+ years. The reasons for our falling out were long forgotten, but those lost years weighed heavily on me. Without hesitation, I sent him a message, giving him my phone number and asking him to call me. Minutes later, my phone rang.

In that phone call that was 17+ years overdue, we spoke about Arthur and his health, the conversation shifted to us talking about what had been going on in our lives. The strange thing was, over a 3 hour long conversation, we never discussed the issue that broke us apart 17+ years ago, and to be honest, we didn’t need to, we had lost 17 years of our lives and of our friendship that we would NEVER get back, 17 Years!!!!.....All that mattered was to see Arthur and show up for him in his time of need.

The plan was set, a 14-hour road trip from Atlanta to Brooklyn. We both had no idea what to expect from the long drive. Especially it being nearly two decades since we had spoken, let alone spent any significant time together. But one thing was clear, we needed to be there for our brother. And at the moment,  that was all that mattered.

The drive itself was a mix of reflection, reconnection, and unspoken understanding. There were moments of silence, where the weight of our shared history hung in the air, and moments of laughter, where the familiarity of old jokes and memories reminded us of the bond we once had.

As the miles passed, I realized how much time we had wasted. Whatever had caused our rift seemed so small now, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Life has a way of putting things into perspective, and this road trip was showing proof of that.

When we finally arrived in Brooklyn, the familiar sights and sounds welcomed me like an old friend. A 24 hour bodega greeted us as we had driven all night and nothing was open at 6am in the morning EXCEPT a good old Brooklyn Bodega. Right on the corner of my old block on Flatbush & Caton ave, we exited the bodega eating a turkey, egg and cheese bagel looking around at how different the blocked looked.

Flatbush Ave & Caton Ave

It wasn’t the same place I had left over 20 years ago, it was a mixture of the familiar and the new. The cracked sidewalks, the loud car horns and graffiti-covered walls reminded me of the Brooklyn I grew up in, while the shiny new storefronts and gentrified corners hinted at the changes the borough had undergone. Still, the spirit of Brooklyn remained intact, raw, resilient, and unfiltered. But, we weren’t here to relive memories or take in the sights. We were here for Arthur.

Walking into Brookdale hospital, I felt a mix of emotions, there was anxiety, sadness, and hope. What would we see? How is he  doing? Is he going to be ok? Also, There were four(4) of us and we were told by the front desk clerk, only two(2) people could be in the room at one time , and one person was already up there , so only one of us could go up. So two by two we went up in the elevator totally disregarding whatever protocol directions that were given to us.

So, as all four of us Junior, Gerald, Trion and myself entered the room, we saw Darren , Arthur's brother who had been in the hospital the entire time by his brother's side advocating for him and providing whatever comfort Arthur needed. 

Seeing Arthur in that hospital bed was both heartbreaking and humbling. Here was a brother who had always been full of life, now vulnerable and fighting to recover. I had been in this same position and whispered what I had whispered to myself "...Fight my G...Just Keep fighting each moment.." But even in his weakened state, Arthur’s spirit shone through.

We cracked jokes, shared stories, talked about the NY Knicks resurgence as he is a DIE HARD Knicks fan, shared info on exercises for Darren to have him do while in this state, did I already mentioned cracked jokes? It actually reminded us why we had made this trip. To bond and be there for our brother. Arthur’s resilience mirrored everything I loved about Brooklyn.

In that moment, I realized that this visit wasn’t just about checking on Arthur’s health, it was about reconnecting with the parts of myself that I had left behind. Arthur, Trion, Eddie(who couldn't make the trip) and I represented a bond forged in the streets of Flatbush, a bond that had weathered time and distance.

After leaving the hospital, Trion and I continued to navigate our own reconnection. The drive back from Brooklyn felt lighter, as if the weight of 17 years had been lifted. We didn’t need to revisit the past or rehash old grievances. The shared experience of showing up for Arthur was enough to remind us of what truly mattered, friendship, loyalty, and the unshakable bond of shared history.

Brooklyn had always been a place of lessons for me, and this trip was no different. It reminded me that life is too short to hold onto grudges or let time slip away. Reconnecting with Trion and showing up for Arthur reinforced the importance of being present for the people who matter most.

*With Fight and Toughness Arthur is out of the hospital and is doing well*

My Take Away:

Brooklyn, with all its grit and resilience, teaches you to move with purpose, to value loyalty, and to never take your relationships for granted. This trip wasn’t celebratory, but it was transformative. It reminded me that life isn’t about the time you’ve lost but about the time you still have. Rebuilding connections, showing up for loved ones, and embracing the lessons of the past are what truly define who we are.

Brooklyn isn’t just where I’m from, it’s where I learned what matters most. And no matter where life takes me, a part of me will always belong to Brooklyn, New York…Flatbush To Be Specific.

-Please leave a comment and share your thoughts; Hopefully I'm not on this Journey Alone

#Love #ThankYou #MyJourney #Transformation #BlackFolxsTravel