Dont Mince Words

As I get closer to going back to NYC for a visit, I’m also being sent reminders of what it was like when I was there.

Anyone that’s been on the F train knows Mr. Sonny Payne. He’s one of those anything-you-can-spare guys. I usually saw Sonny about once a week on my rides. When I didn’t see him, I’d get concerned. He was a harmless panhandler with a realistic yet not in your face approach.

What I don’t miss is the subway God Squad types reminding me I’m going to hell. I make every effort in this life to ensure I enjoy it enough to guarantee that one-way ticket. I never need to be reminded of what I’m doing wrong.

The following is a great story of how one person fought back in a creative nonviolent way: http://www.livejournal.com/users/koaloha/29646.html

Peace be with you – and also with you.

I made my reservations. I’m going back to New York to attend a friend’s first book signing. Nomi was part of my core writing group while in New York. That gang really pushed me and I thank them for the tough love.

But I’m scared.

I miss fall foliage. I miss pizza and real bagels. I miss big sweaters, fires, and light snow. I miss people that can quickly express themselves.

When I left on my Super Shuttle to LGA last July, I turned around and watched the Empire State vanish. I cried.

I’m scared to go back because I miss everything that makes New York great.

The last vacation I took with Anne was to Mexico. Our usual fixed vacation agenda item is to try to eat nachos every day. For the Mexico trip, I went to Target and bought an economy box of condoms. We calculated that we’d have to have sex 1.7 times per day to finish the box.

Those poor condoms expired before they ever were used, but the thought was there.

Three years later, we go on vacation again, except this time, we decided to drink my stash of wine. This was an achievable goal-1.5 bottles per day. A sure thing.

In between reds, we went to the Grand Canyon and did everything there is to do in Sedona. I bought gems. I bought Tarot cards. I had my palm read and my cards read. On our last day, a medium channeled my dead dad and told me, “You were married to your father in a past life. You lived in England during the Colonial days. He wore a 3-point hat and you came over and settled in Newport, Rhode Island.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. For the price of that information, I could buy three economy boxes of condoms.