July 16, 1995

A new glossy foldout map and guide, "Historic Jackson Heights Visitors Guide," is available for the cost of two 32-cent stamps from the Jackson Heights Beautification Group in Queens, which compiled it. Its maps, list of 28 restaurants and 20 historical and cultural sites go beyond the borders of the 1920's garden community into Flushing and Long Island City. Still, the focal point is Jackson Heights, bordered by Junction Boulevard on the the east, Roosevelt Avenue on the south, the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway on the west and LaGuardia Airport to the north, and its 30-square-block historic district, landmarked in 1994. "We're hoping to appeal to people interested in ethnic foods," said Daniel C. Karatzas, a director of the group. "We have Argentinian, Italian, Indian, Korean, Chinese, Thai, Colombian, Peruvian, Uruguayan restaurants. We're hoping to get people interested in neighborhoods and historic preservation."

At 8:30 A.M. yesterday, when the temperature had no business being above 90 degrees, Roberto Madrid was watering a circle of impatiens near Cadman Plaza in Brooklyn when Mario DeMaio asked to borrow the hose. Mr. DeMaio, 34, rinsed his hands and arms, then splashed his face. He let the water gush down over his shaved head. "I'm homeless," he told Mr. Madrid. "I got to cool off somehow."

TO me, camping means hiking with a backpack into the wilderness and pitching a tent. But our first family camping trip was done in 1990's style. We traveled in a veritable house on wheels -- a Volkswagen Eurovan Camper -- to a campground on Canada's Lake Erie shore. For weeks, we had envisioned lazy strolls through tall pines, watching squirrels scamper and listening to birds sing. We pictured ourselves happily ending our days toasting marshmallows over a fire. Other people were not in our daydreams.

SHOPLIFTING, TURNSTILE-JUMPING, potsmoking, pill-taking. Trespassing, assault, rape, possibly murder. Name a crime or misdemeanor, and if it doesn't involve guns, cars or syringes, teen-agers probably commit it during the day and night that are shown in Larry Clark's film "Kids," which opens on Friday. They're not career criminals or hard-core gang members, just teen-agers hanging around in New York City, out to have some fun. When they're not breaking laws, they're having extremely unsafe sex. What makes Mr. Clark's film so controversial is that for its teen-aged characters, nothing they do registers as a transgression or an outrage. For them, it's just another day.

HE rode standing by the subway door, over 6 feet tall, and hanging to a strap on the No. 1 heading into the Bronx. He looked young, strong, mean. The dark look in his eyes, the sneer on his lips were unmistakable: blank hatred. Contempt. Was he a gang member? Or a freelance thug? Was he armed?