Where To Now St. Peter?

Ugh. Wednesday. What a day. Not a very good one. It started out ok. A bit nippy as I woke up and shuffled around, shower, coffee, cereal and out the door just as the Today show started. Once again, a problem at the tunnel affecting traffic on the helix, but not the road into the city, especially when riding on a big old coach bus. I had skipped a week ahead and found myself engrossed in the New Yorker, reading a selection from Gunter Grass’ Memoir about being in the German army in World War Two. That was announced a few years ago. Him, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, being a former Nazi. Tsk Tsk. He does regret it, unlike a certain guy in a dress in Rome. It was a good story nonetheless.

Work was work was work to paraphrase Gertrude Stein. It turned out Greg Steven’s mother in law passed away last night. She was 88. Bill was upset and carried through for part of the day before leaving until Tuesday to help his wife deal with the situation. Greg’s a good guy and I of course offered whatever help I could give him. He asked about how Frank was doing and after I told him, he rolled his eyes and asked what it was all about. I had nothing to tell him, just to get through it as best as we could. Also to enjoy every sandwich. That was from the late Warren Zevon.

I left work early and walked over to the bus terminal where I stood in line with all the other people heading out to Bergen County. I was early since and since Frank is in the intensive care unit, hours are restricted to half hour visits, no more than two visitors at a time. Like I said I was early, so I sat in the lobby and waited for Elaine. She showed up soon enough and we waited in the lounge outside of the ICU and shared a banana. We agreed that when Frank gets out, he will have to be more active, perhaps even joining Elaine on her walks rather than sitting on the couch and doing not much at all.

We went in and saw Frank, groggy of course. It seemed like he didn’t even know that he had an operation the day before. He was anxious to get out of the hospital and that’s understood, but when he doesn’t have his teeth in, then there’s confusion about what he is actually saying which makes him testy and working on Elaine’s last nerves. She mentioned that he was acting like our father and he sure was. Surly and impatient. We understood that, but it gets hard when you’re trying to help someone and they’re getting snippy.

Frank had food coming and three nurses helped him move 1.5 feet from the bed to a chair which threw him for a loop. Didn’t remember he had a catheter in, and was worried about having to take a piss despite us telling him to go ahead. It was nothing we all hadn’t seen before. Poor Frank, so lost and confused. Elaine had to run out to her car to get some denture glue for Frank and then it was a while before we were able to figure out what Frank was saying about how to put the glue on here, place it in there, not too complicated for most, but for us it was. He also called me Cory a few times.

We wound up being in ICU for an hour which meant I missed my bus and could mean an hour wait for the next one. Elaine and I left, asking Frank to relax and get some rest. They might be moving him from ICU tomorrow so some sleep would do him good. Elaine was going to drive me to the bus stop but we saw a bus ahead heading to another stop down the line. Thank goodness for the Hasbrouck Heights Homos headed into the city, about six of them, each of them paying with twenty dollar bills. That meant the driver had to make change for each one which took some time and enable me to get on the bus after kissing Elaine good night and thanking her for the ride. It’s a good thing the Hasbrouck Heights Homos didn’t buy tickets for each other and sort out the money later or else I’d probably be getting off the bus now.

Elaine really deserves a medal for all that she’s been going through. I walked down to Hoboken after getting off in Union City, down the viaduct. Good to be home.

Some time later…unrelated in every sense of the word.

This logo/brand I believe was created by Wolff Olins…er…McMann and Tate. Isn’t it ugly. I remember Wolff Tate ‘got’ the branding contract for the London 2012 Olympics, This ugly thing makes me even happier I am no longer there. That’s all. Good night.

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