Noel Walls worked with Andy Johnson, Mike Nathanson, Bruce Cipriani and Julie Diemer. Andy Johnson may have been my former classmate & friend Kevin Wagner’s cousin. Mike Nathanson was an impish busybody, Julie Diemer was a proto yuppie and Bruce Cipriani had a nice ass and his thinning hair added to his testosterone-fueled image. He was hot, and he knew it. Noel Walls smoked Merits I believe and was handsome in an off brand way.

They were the new managers that came in after John Vasicek was discovered to have been embezzling from Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. He took down Paul LoPresti, Dave Manzo, Harold Wind, Larry IoliTony Grega and a few other malcontents.

There were a handful of employees that saw an opportunity to take advantage of the vacuum that was created. There was a guy named Cliff who had the job of driving from Saddle Brook to Manhattan twice a day.

Cliff maintained his employment but he was not going to be driving into Manhattan anymore. I had driven across the country with Perry Dedovitch the previous year and offered my services to replace Cliff.

My previous supervisor, Dave Manzo had been let go, he was Paul LoPresti’s pet. For some reason I went with Nick Lattanzio to visit Dave Manzo and see if he was holding up, not realizing that Dave Manzo did not like me at all. It didn’t matter, I was still employed and he was not.

My trips to Manhattan were exciting. I would get to East 47th Street before noon and park in a garage that was just for the van I was driving. I would distribute the mail in the offices and pick up mail to go back to Saddle Brook.
It was while in the mailroom I became friends with Jet Watley. I heard him playing King Crimson’s ‘The Sheltering Sky ‘on his rinky dink cassette player and we started talking about music.

Eventually we would get high at lunchtime. There was a cement park outside of the office building at 47th and Second Ave. It seemed to me that there were hundreds of professionals like Jet and me outside and getting high only we were not that professional.

I eventually found a weed dealer who would sell me decent half ounces for about $30. There were plenty of stems and seeds, but it was still pretty good weed.

Things are happening at the fruit stand. Whether or not they are for the better remains to be seen. I’m not happy about it, but it is not my life or career, though it will trigger my separation anxieties.

I write about work from over 40 years ago, and here I am still toiling all these years later. The work has changed and so have I. Jet has been gone for over 30 years, most of the people I worked with in that Harcourt Brace Jovanovich book warehouse have more than likely kicked the bucket. Or perhaps, circling the drain.

I was a goof ball then, I would like to think I am more a refined goof ball these days but is that really an apt description? And today what I didn’t want seems to be coming to reality. Jimmy Chile has his eye on the door. He won’t even be at this fruit stand going forward. Sadness abounds

I suppose it was my own fault. I should have checked the calendar for today last night. Though, to be fair if I knew, my evening would have been filled with apprehension. I should have checked and saw that Yancy and his supervisor and his cohort would be visiting my fruit stand this morning.

Now that Marcus has gone their presence has been felt more and more. Apparently, Marcus used to run interference on behalf of Jimmy Santiago and myself. Now without Marcus, they have been more and more visible. And Jimmy Santiago is greatly annoyed by this turn of events.

On Monday, someone who never visits this fruit stand visited in the morning. On his way out he noticed a not very well done paint job and brought it up to the powers that be at his fruit stand, which caused one of those powers that be to reprimand Jimmy Santiago.

I admit I had noticed the bad paint job but for one thing I did not think it was a big deal. And unless one is looking directly at the wall no one would notice it. Most of the time, meaning 99% of the time people are staring at their devices in their hand and would not notice.

The visitor noticed and sounded the alarm. Now Jimmy Santiago is talking about heading out in a month. He’s been here for a few years and is starting to see where things might end up. That is distressing to me but I will have to adapt if that happens. I myself, am not looking to leave and once again they will have to kick me out, I’m not leaving voluntarily.

Yesterday was Rafe Dais’ birthday and I sent him a message. He was upset when I was let go. He did hook me up with some office items months before my abrupt departure so I bear no malice towards him. His kid though, is another story.

Things between Mike and myself are OK. Not where they used to be. I had reached out to him last night and got his voicemail and I did not leave a message. He plans on stopping by to give me the money I had loaned to his beloved Wade.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Mike was tired of hearing me complain about it and hung up the phone in middle of the conversation which put an end to any conversation between us for a few days.

He may have spoken to Bill more than me during those days, which was fine by me.

I am so disappointed by the human race. The current situation in this country is awful. Even the liberal bubble in Hoboken is not so liberal anymore. As Mike told me a while ago, people hear that you live in Hoboken, they think you have money. Nevermind that folks like me moved here when it was cheaper. Nowadays it’s all expensive condos and what not. It started in the 1980’s and I suppose it has come to full fruition.

Mike made it to my office. He had a seltzer and some pretzels and also paid me the $40 that his beloved Wade owed me. I have doubts we will do that whole thing again but knowing myself I just might.

While Mike was hovering around my desk, I was playing Midnight Vultures by Beck. It’s possibly my favorite Beck album and I have happy memories about seeing Beck on Valentine’s Day with Julio back in 1999.

There is a song called ‘Broken Train’ and part of it reminded me of a song with a lyric ‘except for my shoes’. I wracked my brain trying to figure it out in my head. I don’t need a smartphone to occupy my thoughts, I can do that all by myself.

Back and forth I kept thinking ‘except for my shoes’. I also thought I would take the train to the Newport station in Jersey City since Hoboken trains were not operating and walked with Mike to the 14th Street station.

As luck would have it, when I got to the turnstile, a Hoboken train pulled in and I hopped onto it, telling Mike I would see him later. The doors closed and I saw Mike turning away from the turnstile. I wasn’t sure if he had the fare available but there was nothing I could do.

I got to Hoboken, still thinking ‘except for my shoes’. I walked past a building where I helped an elderly gent who asked me if I could move his groceries to his front step where he could carry from there. He wasn’t there tonight and I kept walking.

I picked up some shirts from Mona and came home and situated myself. I was going to look up ‘except for my shoes’ online when it revealed itself to me. It was a line from The Cars’ “Moving in Stereo” from their first album.

It’s an enjoyable part of having music constantly playing in my head, trying to figure out where that riff or lyric was from. It took a while, but I figured out where ‘except for my shoes’ came from.