Huntington, Long Island, New York
Don't knock it till ya try it. This Long Island burb is where it's at.
By Melissa Silvestri
Published: April 14th, 2005 | 11:33am
Before I get into this, I’d like to clear up some misconceptions about Long Islanders: We do not all talk with a nasal accent. I’ve never met Billy Joel. I’m Italian-Irish, but I don’t know anyone in the mob. Not all Italian girls have big hair and long nails and Guido boyfriends named Tony. I’ve never even been to the Hamptons, a popular spot for rich summering New Yorkers.
If you come away from this with anything, remember this: Long Island is beautiful and diverse, and each neighborhood, town, and section offers something different. You’ve just gotta know where to look.
In my unbiased opinion, one of the best places to be is my hometown, Huntington. I was born and raised here and have lived here for most of my life, a mere walk away from Huntington Village, the center of activity. It’s a suburb where many people from neighboring towns (Cold Spring Harbor and Syosset) come to visit because it’s easy to walk around and there’s so much to do.
Music makes the people come together: My favorite place to go is Soundtraks (356 New York Avenue), a little record store full of good, cheap CDs (from $10-$15). The guys who work there are sweet, and know just about everything about every kind of music. They can order anything for any customer (I ordered Moving by the Raincoats when I was 16). They also sell dance mix tapes made during the late ’90s for a mere 3 bucks a pop. I’ll never forget finding Monifah’s “Touch It” on a mix I purchased a long, long time ago.
Where to re-read: Book Revue (313 New York Avenue) is truly my haven. A two-story bookstore full of anything and everything you could wish for, including used books for only a few dollars (It’s where I got Sandra Cisneros’ Carmello, The Best American Crime Writing: 2003 and The Penguin Book of Erotic Stories by Women). Many celebrities have come to promote books at Book Revue, the biggest one in recent years being Bill Clinton. At age 13, I may or may not have waited around the block for Ann M. Martin (author of The Babysitters’ Club) for hours.
Where to get your grub: The eats in Huntington are heavenly. For real Dutch frites and warm chicken and honey mustard wraps, go to European Republic (20 Clinton Avenue). You can listen to the local dance-music station while waiting for your order from the cute Turkish man behind the counter. For delicious, warm Santa Fe sandwiches filled with sun-dried tomatoes, chicken, honey mustard, and mozzarella, go to Restaurant Joanina (35 Gerard Streer). After your meal, for some deliciously thick ice cream, hit up Wolfies Frozen Custard (380 New York Avenue).
Screen-saver: During my teen years, I often went to the Cinema Arts Centre (423 Park Avenue). It was there that I was first introduced to independent and foreign films, and I began the transformation into the artsy moviehead I am today. I went practically every week, worked there as a volunteer, and watched it change from being shut-down-worthy to what it is today: packed on the weekends for the biggest premieres, the most recent being Fahrenheit 9/11. It’s the only place on the island where indie and foreign films are shown. Like so many other Huntington establishments, it is family-owned, having been run by a sweet couple, now in their 70s, since 1973.
Park it. But watch for the goose poop!: Heckscher Park is a Huntington specialty. Walking distance from Huntington Village, it houses a small art museum (where I was introduced to the work of Chagall and the photographer Carl Van Vechten, who photographed luminaries of the Harlem Renaissance) and is the home of many a summer music festival (I’ve seen Richie Havens, Janis Ian, and Odetta). In addition to your everyday birds and bees, Heckscher Park is home to an ungodly number of Canadian geese. They feel the need to relieve themselves all over the grass, so kids are regulated to stay in the playground (awwwww, Mom!). When I was little, I loved being on the swings, feeling as though I could fly. On hot summer days, my mom would buy me a treat from the ice-cream truck and we’d walk around the pond, looking at the swans floating majestically and the ducks tucked with their bottoms in the air, looking for fish.
I am truly a child of Huntington. Whenever I leave school (in New York City) to come home, it makes me happy just walking around town on warm days, reacquainting myself with what I already know so well.
Issue #35
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