Sheepshead Bay. Brighton Beach. Coney Island.

That was my Brooklyn while growing up.

No one drove. We walked. We took the bus. Maybe the train into the city.

I never thought of Brooklyn as a collection of neighborhoods. You lived, played, dined, shopped, went to school, went to the mall, went to the beach in the sweet section you called home.

Going out of the neighborhood was a big deal. Stepping into foreign territory. Different cultures dotted the map but mixing and matching just wasn’t a thing.

Your Brooklyn was the only one that mattered.