It was a nice enough Saturday to go for a bike ride. Since it was Saturday my plan was to go to Liberty State Park. Bill was on the road again since early morning, before I was awake. I woke up around 9 AM and resolved to do things a little bit earlier.

I had a light breakfast and then I was at Shop Rite stocking up on groceries. The bike started rolling soon enough, after a quick walk to the local Bibliotheque to pick up The Party Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell. I still have the Jon Savage and Michael Palin tomes. The librarian remarked that this particular book was small.

The ride was pleasant and uneventful. There were people out and about but not too many and they were responsive to the buzzer and stepped out of the way. I almost hit a dog though. By the hospital, a woman was not really paying attention to the fact I was fast approaching and her little dog was sure to get clipped.

It almost happened in the supermarket this morning too. People bring their dogs to the store. They’re not service animals, it’s just their owner did not want to leave them alone or chained up outside. I usually remark to Bill, “Ohh look a dog in the supermarket!”

And this morning a woman was staring at the items on the shelf, not looking at her dog being in the path of a grocery cart.

Overall the ride was uneventful and I am cool with that. It was nearly nonstop, meaning if I stopped it was usually for a minute to drink some water. There’s been a Good Times marathon on cable, not sure if it was a scheduled thing or a tribute to John Amos. So that’s been on all day.

I did watch part of a documentary on 9/11, just to see the neighborhood in Tribeca that I walk around in on my afternoon break. I wanted to see what had changed and was was still around. I couldn’t really tell where anything was.

The documentary was a compilation of videos shot by people who were down there. Some professional digital employees and some average people starting their day. So much misinformation was around in those hours and days.

Rumors that the Washington Mall was under attack, the White House being a target. Maybe that was true since Flight 93 crashed in Shanksville, PA and that was hijacked as well. I do remember the day vividly and now work in the area of the Manhattan attack, helping people who were affected by the aftermath.

I still think it’s somewhat noble, I read anecdotes throughout the day about where the client was and for how long they were in the area since they were told everything was OK, and the air was fine. Now they are developing cancers and other ills due to the malfeasance of the powers that used to be. That is brought up in Spike Lee’s 9/11 documentary as well.

Tonight I forgot to write. Here it is a little after 11 PM. Notes again from today.

My work memories and the occasional dream almost always involve the warehouse gig, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. My brothers had worked there at some point and my mother worked in the office.

I worked in the College Department, starting part-time when I turned 16. I was bad at it. I should have been fired since I was so inept. I would have to pick orders and if they asked for 22 copies of Art History, I would give them 20. I was always called back to correct my mistakes.

I am sure I would have been fired if it wasn’t for the regard people had for my mother. Some people knew this and really hated me. I was unaccustomed to such disdain and usually laughed it off, in their face. But honestly, I did not know I should have been fired. I didn’t realize that until many years later.

I went full-time when I graduated from high school. Somehow I figured out that college would be a waste of time. I had a teacher in high school, Sister Reginald who remarked that we were in school because we had to be. When we go to college that wouldn’t be the case.

It was then a bell went off in my head. I knew that I was the type of person who didn’t do things that they didn’t want to do. And to pay money for that would be insane. Plus my parents didn’t pay for my brothers or sister’s continuing education so they weren’t going to pay for mine.

‘Why stay in college? Why go to night school? Gonna be different this time…’

Having just mentioned Sister Reginald, I remember something that happened. Sister Reginald taught Algebra. I mentioned to Bill earlier this evening that I am a strict segregationist with regard to letters and numbers, and that is what Algebra is all about.

Somehow I got through 2 years of it and I have no idea how. For my last year of Algebra, on the final there were the usual letters and numbers mixing it up and how do I make sense of it. And I had to show my work.

Somehow I steeled myself and wrote an essay on my Algebra final. I apologized for my being a poor student, but I just did not ‘get it’. Sending me to summer school would be useless and anyway, my parents would kill me. Sister Reginald found it in her heart and passed me.

Occasionally I will see something on the social medias about teachers that inspired or were heroic to people. Bill has a teacher like that, Dr. Sharon they call him. There was even a reunion that Bill attended a few months ago.

I guess if I were pressed to name a heroic or inspirational teacher I would have to say, Sister Reginald. She’s probably gone now so there will be no reunion. There will be cake.

Not many notes after all…