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If I could be you and you could be me for just one hour; if we could find a way to get inside each other’s mind; if you could see me through your eyes instead of your ego; I believe you’d be surprised to see that you’d been blind.

Walk a mile in my shoes, walk a mile in my shoes. And before you abuse, criticize and accuse— walk a mile in my shoes.

brooklynwalk-a-thon-wwib

Photo, “Elvis Presley Didn’t Like Clearwater” by Amber Tides, courtesy of the artist

While I’ve had to lay off the megaphone and Bruce Ratner hung in effigy scene for health reasons (my doctor thought it was Jake Leg but thankfully it was “just” a lot of stress), the indefatigable folks at Develop Don’t Destroy Brooklyn are still there, improbably battling darker and more pervasively corrupt historical forces than most realize. (Anyone who thinks Robert Caro tells even “most” of the physical history of Brooklyn 1930-1970 in The Power Broker has been misled by both the book’s  heft and the author’s exaggerated self-assurance.) If you have some coins to spare, Daniel Goldstein and Shabnam Merchant of  DDDB can use ‘em for  their walk-a-thon to raise money and slay the beast. A dance-a-thon is more to my style but there aren’t many who still shimmy-she-wobble like Old Caz can so I’m cutting the kids a break.  I should also note the ceaselessly diligent  watchdog efforts of Norman Oder, of Atlantic Yards Report, whose sum achievement in journalism rivals that of Balzac, Dickens, Trollope, Tolstoy— no shit. I fear, sometimes, Norm’s independence of thought— including occasional differences with causes he’s generally sympathetic towards— leaves the man slightly unloved; should that be so… give him a great big kiss!
—Caz Dolowicz


Caz Dolowicz was born on Sands Street in 1923 and, thanks to  the genius of Blind Blake, he knows what diddy-wah-diddy means (it predates Bo Diddley, whom we also loved).

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