Tag Archives: Hyman Gross

I Slipped, I Stumbled, I Fell

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Today is Friday and it’s also April Fool’s Day, making it April 1. It didn’t snow, in fact it was much like yesterday. Cold and drizzly mostly. It’s been a slow day at the cigar shack. Last night I left a few minutes early and was able to ride the bus home with Hyman Gross.

Tonight someone has to stay late (Calvin: Want to make some overtime John? Me: No. Get the Bradley to do it.) since there is some maintenance going on in the man cave. There is a very short man crawling around in the ventilation system, cleaning out a lot of gunk that has accumulated over the years.

Last night I took 2 melatonin tablets which helped me sleep so much that I really did not want to wake up and go to work this morning. I slept quite soundly and when I told Bill about the melatonin he asked if he could have a tablet since he hasn’t been sleeping too well as of late. I told them where I keep them.

I also saw Rand while I was waiting for the bus, just for a minute though since he was headed for a meeting at Stacks Pancake house. My type of meeting, lots of syrup. Reading the Keith Richards bio, which I neglected (didn’t know) it was written with James Fox, who probably deserves the lion’s share of credit for the exceptional narrative.

Now Keef is in art school and learning how to play guitar. He’s just met Mick and Ian Stewart and Brian Jones. It really is a fun book, I recommend it. I have until April 6 and since it’s such a new book I can’t renew it since someone is waiting for it.

My left leg is fine mostly. It’s when I stand up after sitting down, that’s when the problems start and then lately it goes away after a few minutes. Is it possible? Am I getting old? I mean in less than 2 years I will be 50 years old and I have to tell you, I never expected to make it this far.

And having written that, here comes a bus, barreling down after me, to make my words and give them that extra dose of irony. And since the Bradley is staying late (and he opened up my usual register) I get to leave a little after 9:00PM tonight.

I don’t think I will wait for the 9:42 bus to ride with Hyman Gross (sorry Hyman) but I would rather just go home and be with the one I love. And having written this much, it’s really one less thing I have to do tonight.

Well I might have written that too soon, since I haven’t hit the 500 word mark yet. For those that play at home, you probably realized that I write about 600 words every day lately, but tonight I will be satisfied with 500.

I hope you are satisfied with 500 words as well, but if you’re not, then TS. Thinks don’t always turn out as planned of course. I left the cigar shack at 9:00, leaving the Bradley behind the counter.

Despite my leg acting up lately, I decided to take my time, enjoy a cigar and walk (not stomp) down the avenue to the bus terminal. I was enjoying David Bowie, a playlist I made for my iPod. The cigar wasn’t that great but the weather was better than it’s been all day.

As I entered the terminal I noticed that I could easily catch a 9:25 bus and be back in Hoboken in no time. I was looking forward to reading more of Keith Richards book and seeing Bill soon enough.

I thought about calling Hyman to tell him I wouldn’t be on the bus with him, but decided and followed that line from Bob Dylan’s The Wicked Messenger, ‘If ye can’t bring good news, don’t bring any’.

I ascended the escalator and as I approached the gate I saw Hyman. He didn’t see me, and I almost kept on going. But I decided to see if he was OK. Hyman saw me and said he was glad to see me.

He said he was exhausted and I offered my arm and together we ascended another escalator and worked our way through self-involved twenty somethings to the gate where we needed to be. The bus I could have taken was idling and Hyman said I could take that instead of waiting with him, but I couldn’t leave him like that so I stayed.

I’m glad I did, it was a nice ride and a nice talk. Now I am home and don’t plan on doing anything else except to finish this entry. And the final word count, 803.

I Shall Not Be Moved

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It’s a drizzly and cold Thursday in the spring, March 31, 2011 to be exact. I woke up and heard the rain as well as some mechanical sounds somewhere in the neighborhood. I did not want to wake up and get out of bed, but still that is exactly what I did. I wasn’t too happy about it but something had to be done.

I stepped into the shower after I set up the coffee maker and poured some cereal into a bowl. 5 minutes later I was drying off and hearing the coffee maker beep, alerting me that the coffee was ready. I shuffled about, getting dressed, checking emails and sending out resumes.

When I was growing up in Lodi, I remember seeing a movie starring William Hurt & Sigourney Weaver, Eyewitness. William Hurt played a smart guy who was happy to be a janitor at night and I thought at that time that being a smart guy while doing menial tasks was good enough for me. It sort of still is, but it’s now almost 30 years later and I’m working retail which is pretty much menial in itself.

It was cold and drizzly when I headed out, and the mechanical sounds I heard were of a tree being chopped down outside the nearby public school. Don’t know why they were doing it, it has been going on around Hoboken on and off the past half year. I didn’t stick around to see the damage done.

I enjoyed a cigar and walked up to the bus stop, talking to Bill on the phone as I stayed far away enough from the bus stop so as not to offend my fellow passengers. I’m probably known as the cigar guy around Hoboken these days. And I probably smell of cigars which I think is fine since that generally means no one will sit next to me on the bus if they don’t have to.

On the bus, instead of looking at the gray gray town of Hoboken through the bus window I read instead Keith Richards autobiography which is actually really good and a lot of fun. I’m sure he used a ghost writer, a very good ghost writer since it flows so easily and it’s quite descriptive, reading about growing up in Dartford, Kent in the 1950’s.

But instead of listening to the Rolling Stones, I listened to the Pet Shop Boys as I walked through the bus terminal. The day was OK at the cigar shack. Marcus was back from his vacation in the Dominican Republic and I hadn’t seen Calvin since Sunday.

It wasn’t that busy but for the first time in a week or two, the man cave was filled, mainly with new people. It was too cold and rainy to go outside and smoke cigars so they stayed in the cigar shack. It was an amiable group, most of the guy fascinated by a young woman who sat there telling her tales of Harlem while smoking cigarillos.

Once again I inadvertently had the top sales and once again it was all in the luck of the draw. In this instance, I merely answered the phone and took a phone order. The store as usual, slowed to a crawl, leaving Thomas and myself not that busy.

A customer or two came in but nothing major. I left the shop a little earlier, 5 minutes earlier and since the weather outside was crap, I took a subway which pulled into the station minutes after I descended the stairs.

That enabled me to catch a bus ride home with Hyman Gross who seemed happy to see me. I was glad to see him.

Snow is expected tomorrow but I am hoping that is just a cruel April Fool’s Day joke.