Back at it on February 24. Tuesday, the day after the snow day. Treacherous walk to the PATH train this morning. Most buildings had shovelled sidewalks, some had shovelled but iced over sidewalks I was in my wellies that Bill had bought for me after super storm Sandy in 2012. They definitely come in handy when walking through snow drifts. Walking through snow drifts is generally safer than treading on ice. Involuntary twisting and turning causes distress.

So I am back at the fruit stand. Marcus and I just had an in depth chat about dating and sexuality. It was fun. I found myself in the role of a therapist, and Marcus was the patient spilling his guts (up to a point). Marcus is funny. Sometimes he’s close-lipped with not much to say at all, then there are times like today, where he is quite verbose.

I started writing this on the phone and never got back to it after 11:30 AM. Now I am home at 7:30 PM typing. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 2 is on the television. Bill is on his way back after picking up and dropping off some cadets from there to somewhere else. It’s still winter, and it’s still cold out.

I spoke with my brother Brian earlier. I am going with him to attend our cousin Neil’s annual pizza party. Neil and his sisters were always close to me and mysiblings and now we have been shedding members; they lost 2, Ginger & Rosie, and we lost Francis. Lost isn’t the right word though, 3 dead siblings is harsh, but most truthful. It doesn’t have that Oscar Wilde ring to it: ‘To lose one parent seems unfortunate, but to lose two looks like carelessness.’ That’s from ‘The Importance of Being Ernest’

I first saw that in a broadcast in 1991 while living under my father’s roof and under his thumb. I mentioned that specific line to him back then, and he did not like it at all. He didn’t like me either. 4 and a half months living with him, despite the warnings of my brothers and sister, was a mistake, but it bought me time enough for Weehawken and Jane Street revealed themselves in October, and I was soon out of Lodi for the last time.

I have thought about moving back to that area, and we were offered a place to rent, but Bill was adamant on living out there, and I admit I had a rose colored memory feeding into a fantasy. It will be good to spend some time with Brian driving down to Bordentown. We rarely meet up these days, and time is running out for what is left of the two former residents of 13 Riverview Avenue.

What will we talk about? What music will we listen to? What questions does Brian have for me? It’s only going to be the two of us in the car, so right now on Tuesday night, I plan on being an open book. Saturday morning could be another story.