And so the cool crisp May Day full of sunshine and promises started with scratches and blood. Breaking at dawn with furry creatures roaming and trying to find a spot of warm and comfort, I pull up my jeans and collect the paper over screams. The cold light of the morning shows little of intelligence or new wisdom in the newsprint. A breakfast of rye toast, soft-boiled eggs, soy bacon, and an orange washed down by water and coffee. They presented a silly group without the red underwear dancer. This is store day so I must get an early start before the buses start delivering the elderly.
Start at Broad and work backwards. It’s early so the TJ students won’t be hanging out looking for rap and finding police cars. Back and forth as with every morning’s ride. Construction on the infrastructure continues up and down the streets with men in bright yellow vest and parked trucks. Young people putting their travel coffee cups on the roofs of the metal vehicle before starting off to work, but I’m the one who is yawning.
Downhill then up hill, then back again.
Early cut to the left due to the markers showing men standing around and looking at marks on the ground and cross the avenue of monuments. I notice the light is flashing, yellow one way and red the other way. A wreck magnate with possible trouble, but I’ll see it many more times today.
Up the hill by the church and notice a gathering of people. Must be something happening today or a group getting ready to do some good religious cause. They seem jovial enough so I drift down the hill and around to the next hill. No construction there, but the speed changes from 5mph to 3mph. The top of the hill brings relief and a chance to adjust my gloves and stretch my fingers. Drifting down the next hill and onto another neighborhood.
Quieter than usual is this early morning ride. School children and their mothers wait for the big yellow buses, waving goodbye.
Finally home again unstrapped, sitting, and drinking a bottle of water in the golden sunshine.
Now the routine starts. Without a watch because time does not mater, the journey begins.
Pass the flashing lights and three blocks up for the left turn to the store. Today, I decide to speed up the processing by using the automatic checkout teller machines. Scan your item. Welcome valued customer. An attendant has been notified. Do you have any coupons?
Yea, get me out of here.
Second trip; pass the flashing lights and two blocks up before the left turn.
Get me out of here.
Third trip; pass the flashing lights and one block up before the left turn. See it pays to create variety.
Roll into the yard and another bottle of water. The only item on the “shopping list” is T-paper, but I’m sure I need to get more.
Fourth trip; pass the flashing lights and one block up but zig zag over to another street and then back again. This time the store is full of grey. The allies are full of walkers, couples, mobile carriers, and slow distracted faces. This trip will take longer. The list contained: Bread, hot dogs, soup, coffee, creamer, and Buffy meat.
Home again, to unpack and eat left over crappy chicken and water, and then inside to watch the news and eat the carrots that bunny did not want, but I forgot the t-paper, so another trip was planned.
I by-passed the flashing lights and went another way. By this time my body was getting weary. A replacement battery for the one I dropped through the deck, OJ, blueberries, t-paper, and beer.
Home again, home again, and back in the dark. Breathe deep and go through emails and messages and start projects. It’s 2:30 and I’m just starting what I want to start.
Going through the cases of cassettes, I pull out several cases, blowing and rubbing the dust off. “Paul Simon” reads one, “Bill Joel” is the title of another; one by one I check the titles. Do I want to save these? Have I listened to them in the past years? I had spent time to make labels for them some 20 years ago, but have I listened to them since they were put up on a shelf?
Into the trash went so many.
Then one called “Mandrake Memorial” was put aside. Going through some Stones and Tom Petty (he really does the same song over and over, but its good), I threw out a bunch of cassettes.
Then back to the “Mandrake Memorial”. I even looked them up online. Joel had introduced me to them after he saw the concert.
So I recorded the entire tape as one consistent song. It was nothing revolutionary, but a good sign of the times.
And as the dark drapes the night onto the travels, it’s PBS and silver bullets.