that was then. this is now.

My parents were always at battle and searching for places to ship me to for a weekend or two. My great aunt Mimi often fit the bill. My great aunt has lived on West 12th/6th avenue since 1970. The drill was that they would put me on the train at a given time and she would meet my train at arrival. As I got slightly older, and she got less able to move around, I would then have to navigate the subway to her house. So, around 9 or 10 years old, i knew how to get to greenwich village from grand central easily. I would have my LLbean backpack and meander the trails to the right track and feel so cool. So free. So cool. So free..............

I cannot believe that i was actually allowed to do this with permission, as it was so friggin dangerous. But, that was then and this is now.

still got nothing to say

Trying to cling to the warmth and yellow of summer, but loving the cool and orange of my favorite visual season waxing. As soon as I am really cold, i will write again about personal things (sorry, but you are warned). In the meantime, I will try my best to gather all friends, for as many autumnal festivities that I can find in the tri-state region. Cannot wait to roll with Gilly and smell the rolling in the leaves, and the rotting apples and the carving of pumpkins and all the stuff and smells that remind me that i am still really alive. Nothing smells better than fall.

in a new place

my work course has added yet another twist or two to my inner spring. my previous responsibilities (i may have, er mentioned them once or twice), include supervising staff who teach the emotionally and behaviorally disturbed, gangster-esqe-types.

in addition to what i have been doing, i will now also supervise a site of 4 classes of autistic high school students.

i was so pumped at first, great location, just off of court street in cobble hill. finally. normal things, places, people to look at on my way in and out. an unusual diversion from my ghetto trails.

first day with students. me. humbled.

you start to look at things differently when you assist in changing a 16 year old girls diaper, and know that she will be forever cognitively lower than your own two year old son. and, on the way home, i could not see anything for the tears.

me. humbled. humbled.