The Gowanus Canal is a 1.8-mile-long (2.9 km) canal in the New York City borough of Brooklyn, on the westernmost portion of Long Island. It was created in the mid–19th century from local tidal wetlands and freshwater streams, and by the end of that century was very polluted due to heavy industrial use. Most industrial tenants had stopped using the canal by the middle of the 20th century, but it remained one of the most polluted bodies of water in the United States. Its proximity to Manhattan and upper-class Brooklyn neighborhoods has attracted waterfront redevelopment in recent years, alongside attempts at environmental cleanup. It was designated a Superfund site in 2009. This five-segment panoramic photograph shows the Gowanus Canal as viewed from Union Street Bridge in 2021, looking northeastward towards Downtown Brooklyn.Photograph credit: Tony Jin
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!