Unwanted Witness

(Trigger Warning: Dead Animals)

I watched a bus run over a pigeon the other day and I don’t know how I feel about it.

I’m a native New Yorker; I’ve seen dead pigeons before. When I was six, we tried to help a baby pigeon that fell out of the tree in our front yard (granted it was Brooklyn, so it wasn’t a real yard as much as a chunk of grass where a really big tree grew outside our front door). We nursed it for a few days, but it sort of rolled over and died in my dad’s tomato garden in the back; we buried it there too. I’ve even seen dead birds in Boston, the weirdest one being a seagull eating a pigeon that I think it already killed. But I’ve never seen one actually killed.

As I come up from Andrew Station to the bus stops, there were two pigeons standing next to a smaller pigeon that was sitting on the curb. They all stood there motionless for a few minutes. I thought it was two birds watching over another that was sick or something, but there they were. Then the seated bird got up and hopped into the roadway followed by the other two. Another minute went by and they were milling about. Then a bus started coming up the road to pick up riders. One of the larger pigeons flew across to the smaller curb opposite where they started, but the smaller and other large pigeon stayed as the bus got closer. I had hoped the bus driver had seen the birds and try to avoid them. I also thought the birds would take off before the bus got to them as most do. Neither happened. The smaller bird jumped back onto the island curb as the larger bird kept walking. He large bird seemed to go under the front bumper no problem, but between the bumper and first set of tires the bird moved right towards the curb and directly in front of the back tired. The bus rolled over that bird’s body and head. As the bus passed it, te bid raised a wing—not sure if it was a voluntary or involuntary movement or it was getting unstuck from the tire—then flopped back down on the roadway.

I audibly gasped—which I rarely ever do—in shock and the impact and seeing a pigeon squashed between the tires and the pavement. Still horrified watching it happen. I was upset but had no way to process this death right in front of me. I couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening, but felt guilty anyway. I was messed up for the rest of the night trying to figure out how to handle the event I saw. Do I cry? Do I scream? Do I become numb? Do I ignore the whole thing? I didn’t know how to feel and still don’t really. It seemed meaningless to me and still kind of does, even if that is life in the city. Is this supposed to have meaning for me or no? I do know I really didn’t want to see all that.

Reunions and Other Issues

There’s a story I’ve been holding out on blogging because: 1) it’s not totally mine; and 2) I wanted to see how things played out. But with my daughter’s permission, I can now publish this.

This starts back to when Sophia was born. I wasn’t around and had no idea about her birth, but Susan, her mom, was back with her old boyfriend, Charlie, again. They had been together forever it seems. When I came into the picture as Sophia’s father, I was fine with Charlie being with her mom, and I really couldn’t do anything about it anyway, so I let it go. Several months later, Charlie got drunk and hit Susan and she through him out of the house; but a month later she took him back in. Any respect for Charlie was lost right there; but I couldn’t do anything about that either. Two months before Susan’s death, I was evicted from an SRO and Susan let me stay at her place since Charlie was no longer there. It was better than a shelter and/or being homeless but it was tough. After Susan died, I took over the apartment so Sophia could have some stability (continuity of school, living space, and me still around). After the funeral I never saw Charlie again. However, I spoke to him after he contacted her over Facebook one last time. At first, it was harmless, DM chats and Sophia not really replying much, which is how she is most days. When Charlie wrote to her “Why don’t you call me? You’re making me feel like you don’t love me anymore” I lost it. I wrote him and told him never to contact her again either by phone, email, or any other means. I told Sophia when she’s older, around 17 or 18, she could contact him if she really wanted to reconnect with him and I wouldn’t need to be involved. It may seem harsh, but I did this to protect Sophia.

In early October, I got a call from Sophia’s oldest brother. Her brothers I’ve stayed in contact with as they are good people and Sophia’s family, and I never wanted to separate her completely from her family. Anyway, her brother told me that his younger brother was coming down from Canada with his son for Thanksgiving. The reason they were all getting together was because they found out Charlie now has renal cancer and they wanted to see him as things didn’t sound too good from the last checkup. The reason he called me is he wanted to get an idea if Sophia wanted to go, too. I said I wasn’t sure what she wanted, so I’d have to ask.

The problem was how do you approach a subject like this? I did tell her that her brother and nephew were coming for Thanksgiving and that they may want to try and get together, but I didn’t say why at first. I needed to figure out what to say to Sophia. I’ve never lied to Sophia about things, but some information I waited until she was older to handle. This situation falls directly under what I told her about waiting until she was older to talk to Charlie. It’s not that I didn’t trust Sophia. I completely trust Sophia; I don’t trust Charlie. I asked friends for advice, talked to both brothers, and thought about it. Almost two weeks after I told her about her brothers getting together for Thanksgiving, I told her why. I let her make the decision and she wanted to go see both her brothers, her nephew, and Charlie.

From what I heard it was a good time. Both brothers kept an eye on Sophia to see how she was holding up during it all, and she seemed fine. And I didn’t have to see or speak to Charlie either, so all around I guess it was a win-win.

RIP Stephen Sondheim

In a blog earlier this year talking about the Celestials, I mentioned a whole list of people who we regarded as our North Stars to follow in terms of quality. One of those people died tonight.

I fell in love with Sondheim’s lyrical prowess with West Side Story. My dad let me borrow his copy of the original Broadway cast soundtrack, and he never got it back. I wore out the album from numerous years of playing it over and over again. It was much later through other works on that I realized what a tough lyricist he was and what magic he can do with all of that. The lights on Broadway will be dimmed in his honor (if they haven’t already) and many are honoring him in tweets and articles tonight. I’m doing the same.

This is one of my favorites from West Side Story. The Broadway version has some coarser language in a place or two (but not by much), but this one is great. I was trying to decide between this and “America”–which is astounding in the film version compared to the play. But I went with “Gee Officer Krupke” because it’s more a fun romp. RIP Mr. Sondheim.

Weekend Shopping Hell

A co-worker asked me what I was doing this weekend; I told her shopping. It was a joke, but had no idea it was going to be one on me.

It actually started the other week, when my driver’s license expired. I was going to get it renewed the Friday after my birthday but I overslept that day and forgot. The next scheduled time I could get was for this Monday. Meanwhile I still need to go food shopping. I was hoping I could still rent a Zipcar, but they have the record of when my driver’s license expires. Otherwise I’m stuck with mass transit and too many groceries to carry on the bus by myself. So I have to wait until I get the renewal before I can rent a car. Luckily a friend of mine said she’d be able to pick me up from the supermarket when I was done. She picked me up last weekend and thought I was all set for this weekend.

Saturday comes and I texted her that I probably would be done shopping around 2pm. She texts back that she was busy during the day and thought she would pick me up after 5pm like last time (last time it was after 5pm because I pulled an OT Saturday shift, and that was when I could get to the store). Okay, this was miscommunication on my part. My bad. Thing is there was one errand I needed to run before going shopping that day and it was easier to do during the day. So I decided to do a part of my shopping that afternoon along with the errand, get there and back on the bus, then do a second run shopping that evening so I can get picked up by my friend. Seems workable.

The errand is going to the bank. I needed to deposit a check for my daughter and some cash for me; it’s her SSDI check that she’s now getting instead of me getting because she’s now getting because she’s 18 (too long a story for now). But I get to the bank that is close to the shopping mall, and try to get into the ATM. Now this is a major branch of this bank (a credit union), but they only have ATM hours open when the bank is open, meaning I can’t get in the bank to deposit anything. Why does a major branch only use office hours for their ATM? They have drive through ATMs for major car traffic, but fuck you if you just need to walk up and use the ATM!?!? Seriously? So I wait behind the shortest line of cars to use the drive through ATM. I really have no time for this bullshit, but I’m not waiting two days to deposit a check because the bank closed five minutes before I got there!

I get to the drive through ATM and I was able to deposit the check to my daughter’s account no problem. However the ATM I’m at won’t take cash deposits. Again, seriously?? I mean there are some trade offs if you don’t want to be part of an evil franchise like Bank of America, but this is stupid!! By this time there are too many cars in both drive through lanes to wait for the other one to open up just to see if I can deposit cash. So I say screw it and walk back to the market to do the first bit of shopping.

This trip I just need to get some fast stuff for the house but nothing that will be too heavy to walk around with going from bus to bus on. Before the pandemic, all I would normally do is spend $15 to get one of the gypsy cabs waiting for people to get them home. And that was fine before the plague or whatever COVID is, but I’m not going to get in a cab or even an Uber these days if I don’t have to because, you know, I want to live! So it’s the bus or nothing until this evening when it’s easier with my friend. I get a good mix of stuff we need for the house that isn’t too heavy but will hold us over for lunch and whatnot. I get it, save my list, hop a bus, transfer to a second one, and make it home to catch my breath for another couple of hours before heading out again.

Time comes to start heading out again, however the bus is running a little late. Thank God these new transit apps actually track the buses fairly well, otherwise I would be spending a ridiculous amount of time outside waiting for a bus. For some reason the bus I needed was running behind schedule. I was hoping to get to the store by 5pm so I would have a kind of easy pace to find what I needed. Now that plan was out the window, too! So I go to wait outside for the bus as the app says it should show up in 5 minutes. I’m at the bus stop for 15 more minutes waiting for my bus to show up, and literally three buses I didn’t need (unless I was getting to work) drive by, all within one minute of each other. I swear these buses were driven by David Copperfield, Doug Henning, and the Amazing Johnathan because this is something that NEVER happens any other day!! Finally the bus arrives. No transfers, but I have to walk about five minutes to get to the store from where this bus stops. At least it would have been if the bus driver paid attention to the stops as I was! She got distracted by a passenger getting on and drove by my stop! Now this was getting out of hand!! So I had to walk back a few blocks to get to the way the app suggested. It was sort of the back way to get to the mall. The visible fronts of any mall are usually nice, clean, crowded, well trafficked, well lit, and generally safe. The back of any malls that no one except police, sanitation workers, and tow trucks ever see are, at best, a kind of no-man’s-land/choose-your-own-manner-of-death areas that they always tell people in self defense classes to stay away from; and this is what I have to pass through to get to the store along this route! By some stroke of luck or divine providence I wasn’t raining and the sun was still out, so not as deadly, but very sketchy nonetheless.

I get to the supermarket at least a half hour later than I was hoping, and I haven’t even started shopping yet! Now it’s a just a bunch of microaggressions on top of a hellish afternoon! Can’t find the right brand, the right amount, the right flavor, etc. Stupid shit! It’s pissing me off but I’m maintaining control. Until I get to the frozen food section. I’m searching for some frozen pizza when something catches my eye. I look up and see it: General Tso’s Tofu frozen dinner. General. Tso’s. Tofu! Frozen Dinner!! That was the final straw! And all I’m doing for the next ten minutes as I scout for food is screaming in my head, “GENERAL TSO’S TOFU FUCKING FROZEN DINNER?!?!?!?!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!? WHY, FOR FUCKING GOD’S SAKES WHY?!?!?!? I mean Stouffers can’t even guarantee crispy frozen fried chicken, but somehow you expect a frozen tofu dinner to be just right?!??!” I was done! I mean I seriously quit! Somehow the insurrection at the Capitol didn’t destroy my hope, but this frozen abomination makes me wish whatever asteroid that was passing by this week to just slam into this Stop & Shop and end it for everyone because General Tso’s Tofu Frozen fucking TV dinner!!!!

My friend drove me home after getting things loaded, but I was still ranting about General Tso’s Tofu frozen dinner. I have seen hell, and it is tofu as a frozen dinner!!!!

Where I’m Coming From

Yes, I’m bitter. Everyone thinks it’s because Bernie Sanders was behind and dropped out of the US Presidential race and Joe Biden is the presumptive nominee. But that’s not it. To really understand it, you need to go back to 2008.

In the heart of the financial meltdown, WGBH, where I was employed in the Closed Caption Center, had a huge financial gap. In order to close it, the proposal was made (and voted on by the union) to give back the raises we were given that year and cut salaries by about 25%. I voted against it, but the rest of the union passed the measure. I of course complained about it, but was put on probation for that. The probation period was extended and a friend (who used to be a union rep) warned me they were trying to fire me with cause—which would get them off the hook for having to pay unemployment. During this time, I tried to find a job, but wound up finding a couple of part time jobs; when I got hired part time by the Census Bureau, it was a third job that would at least help pay bills, and I resigned from WGBH. In between the end of WGBH and the Census job starting, the other two jobs fell apart and had only the Census job to get by, which couldn’t be done.

Meanwhile, I tried to lower my child support payments because I didn’t have the money anymore. However my daughter’s mother and her lawyer painted me out to be the deadbeat dad trying to get out of payments. The courts believed them and I was stuck with $165/week payments when I wasn’t even making that much a week anymore. I kept looking for work, but remember this was a jobless recovery so it was hard to find anything full time. I can barely get into the verbal and psychological abuse suffered from my daughter’s mom, because it was bad at times before losing the job; now it was constant and unbearable, and usually ended with threats of “you’ll never see your daughter again.” No one can understand the pain of that unless you have been put under the thumb of the family courts and an abuser who knows how to use them.

This however was a slow and steady downward spiral for me lasting many years. Started with the situation above, followed by struggling to pay bills including child support, jumping from job to job, losing one place to live, getting a group housing where I couldn’t take my daughter overnight, losing my Census job, losing my car insurance and then having to give up my car because of having no insurance, falling behind in my rent at the group house, eviction from that housing, going to stay at my daughter’s mom’s apartment up until she died, then having to take over as a full time dad with part time wages. And from the time of the salary cut until the death of my daughter’s mom, my psychological state of mind was slowly but consistently deteriorating. I had anxiety on top of already diagnosed depression, eventually got medical help, but all these things kept exceeding the tolerances of my medication. Amazingly, only one time in 2012 did I call the suicide hotline wanting to ease my suffering (ironically, they told me they couldn’t talk to me—after I was put on hold for a few minutes—because I didn’t have a gun right to my head, but was able to talk to the Samaritans) Nothing was stable for at least a year or so after her mom’s death, but then it started to; again slowly.

All this time was simply survival. And all this survival was during the “normal” the Joe Biden says we need to get back to. The “normal” that Hillary Clinton said we needed more of. The “normal” that almost killed me, figuratively and literally. I am not alone in this story, but it is one I have to illustrate as to why me and so many other people are dedicated to the Sanders/progressive agenda: it is for many a choice between life and death, living/struggling and dying/suffering. In some ways it can be as desperate as the situations we found ourselves in (see above for mine), and in our desperation, it may not come out in the most articulate or logical ways. Desperation can do that. However, one should not confuse our desperation as a total cult of personality. While there are many people who have a cult like devotion to Senator Sanders, millions of others realize he is the only politician near high office that is not only articulating our concerns, but listening to our stories. Listening to us when no one else seems to be.

In the last month or so, I’ve gotten into several arguments with people who keep are insinuating “Vote Blue No Matter Who”; they never say it outright, but they jump down anyone’s throat who may have any criticism against a Democratic candidate other than Bernie. Some of the arguments have gotten so heated that I got fed up enough to state an abridged version everything I said here (or some of it) as to why I’m angry and want real societal change. A few people listened, but for the most part I got a lot of people dismissing all I said, all of the pain and past I had to go through, because it was more important to support the Democratic nominee, even if that nominee will not bring about the change needed in this society. Basically whatever I went through was interfering with getting things back to “normal.” I refuse to accept that.

Let’s face it, what we needed even in 2016 was a change in the way things were structured, and no one listened. Now that we’re all stuck at home and awaiting stimulus checks with no clue how long the lockdown may last, we can actually see the structural problems that are hurting us and that we may have to come out of this trying to push those changes on ,a local, state, and federal level. And it’s still possible that no one is going to listen to us and try to reset the last four years, as if nothing that went on before it led up to it today. Things need to change for the better. We’ve seen how things can change for the worse, but we forget that choices made in our name were leading to worse things to come.

Yes, I’m bitter because I’m not being listened to, being dismissed, being ignored. Honestly that’s not new for me. What is new that it reflects an attitude that has been giving us the lesser of two evils every election for the last 30 years. What started as personal has become meta, and that’s not good. The only thing I can say is dismiss progressives at your own peril. I’m not the only bitter person out there.

MR. REED 10/27/13

Something I wrote in honor of the passing of Lou Reed this past Sunday. This will definitely be in the upcoming collection:

MR. REED 10/27/13

I wish I could hear the
A capella bass of Runaround Sue
And extract the melody of Sweet Jane
I wish I had a busload of faith when
All grows dark as Alphabet city
On a ‘70s summer night
My glimpse of beauty is not a Telecaster
But I can understand the possibility of how
From your waxing words
Salt and pepper hair is not misplaced
Behind aviators and black leather
Oddly at home not rechasing rebel youth
Instead paving a way to grace in engineer boots
Gutter poet laureate
Forgoing hipster flash and pretentions
For honesty and underground prose
Finding beauty in an overdose and pre-op wishes
Grungy sidewalks and humanist foibles
A permanent rock fixture
Etched in wet cement by the corner
Of a rough life well fought
The colored girls sing do-de-do your send off
So fly fly away.

Choices and Habits

I’m exhausted. I’m not getting enough sleep these days and what I do get is fitful at best (of course blogging at midnight doesn’t help even if it is a Saturday). It’s a combination of stress and not enough exercise. I know I need to be in better shape and lose weight, but it’s hard. I’m a stress binge eater and the last few months (if not years) has been nothing but stress so eating between meals is out of control. I can do three meals a day fine, but snack times I go nuts. Only recently have I seriously considered the idea of lap band surgery. It might be one of the few ways to curb my appetite. I have problems with this though. I feel like a failure that I can’t find the wherewithal to diet and exercise. The big drawback is my daughter. We have been dealing with her weight issues for a while and now with her mom gone, I’m finally able to correct some bad eating habits; although I think she also has some of my snacking problems. I want to teach her more about being patient and how you can’t get things done instantly or by magic. I feel getting the surgery would be a constant reminder that the argument is invalid. However as my daughter’s pediatrician reminds me (as well as Susan’s sudden death) I want to be around for her for a long time, especially since I’m the only parent left. 

This is just one of the things running rampant in my brain these days.

Bookendings

I have a strange coincidental relationship with the circus. I love the circus, but it has served as an odd bookend to pivotal and painful moments in my life.

The first was when I was six or seven. My mom took me and my sister to see Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus at Madison Square Garden. It’s so hazy that it feels like it’s one of my earliest memories. I can see the three rings and the different acts in each, but they all seem to be going on at the same time. The elephants stood center ring with the circle of death high overhead, and the trapeze with tigers below in the other, a flying cannonball act flying above all of them. It’s a jumble, but I know I enjoyed myself and smiled a lot.

Then we came home. Across the street from our house, I could see a large moving truck in front of our house. When we got across to the other corner, I saw two uniformed movers carrying the couch in my living room out of my house into the truck. Same pattern, same liquid stain on the back support, it was my couch for sure. We got inside the house and there were boxes being taken out of the house by the same movers. My mom explained to me that dad had to move out of the house. Later I would understand this was the beginning of their separation followed by their divorce. I didn’t comprehend it then. I really don’t remember anything specific about that day or even the weeks that followed. The only images I have of that day and weeks are the circus acts and the couch in the moving van.

Since then I’ve continued to go to the circus, but these images were only recently bookended. My daughter won a school raffle to see the Big Apple Circus at the end of April. Since I’m the parent that takes Sophia places, I was her escort to the show. Her mom, Susan, gave her $10 to buy stuff at the show. It was the first tour I’ve seen of Big Apple since the departure of the Grandma character and it was still incredible. My favorite was Zhang Fan on the slack rope and Sophia loved Elayne Kramer the contortionist. It was a good time for all involved.

Then we came home. The light was on and music blaring from the computer room, so it seemed that, as usual, Susan hadn’t moved from her spot since we left a few hours earlier. At first glance into the room, it looked like she was still sitting in the backless leather seat that acted as her computer chair. Then I realized her legs were still on the seat but she was lying on her back on the floor. It didn’t register to me for a few seconds, and then it was all too real. I called 911, Sophia was screaming for her mom to get up. She kept asking if her mom was burned because her face and arms were discolored. 911 had me perform CPR until the paramedics got there to take over. The police moved Sophia into her mom’s room while the medics worked on Susan. Later they took her to the hospital where she was pronounced dead.

The last month has been kind of a blur of activities and getting used to being thrust into the role of a single parent unexpectedly. I’m not sure what Sophia will take away from these days and weeks or what she specifically will and won’t remember. I do hope she’ll still like the circus. It’s a great place to experience and be for a bit, a respite from reality if only for a while.