Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn began Ivan’s bitterly cold and dark day as a forced laborer in a Gulag camp, mine began a bit more leisurely on a brilliantly warm and sunny Tuesday morning in Super-gentrified Park Slope, and there the similarity almost ends. Spending even a little time to help my fellow half-Italian Park Slope neighbor become at least the fourth Mayor with Brooklyn roots was well worth the effort. This is the third in what will be a continuing series of more and less critical observations of how promised progressive policies will or will not remake The Big Apple.
