Sharing & Caring
Another gem from NY Post sports media critic Phil Mushnick, edited by yours truly: “Syracuse wide receiver Devaughn Cooper, 2016 H.S. grad previously enrolled at Arizona and University of Texas-El Paso, is a seventh-year senior. Must’ve finally been attracted to Syracuse by the climate.” Kudos, sir, once again.
I’ve known Ira Wolfe for a decade. A retired civil servant, 71, he describes himself as a singer-songwriter, poet and comedian. Every time he passes the floating book shop he relates one of the quips he is fond of creating. An example: “What show did the unemployed guy go on — American Idle.” He self-published a little book of them several years ago. Today he handed me a printout on the opposite end of the spectrum, detailing his struggles. To my surprise he has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. It is not obvious and must be inner. To combat it, he became a Buddhist, chants daily, sometimes up to 40 minutes, and believes it’s working. In 2012 he was living in his family home in Brighton Beach, mainly out of the basement. During Hurricane Sandy he went upstairs to avoid the flooding. When he went back down, there was six feet of water and his landline, computer and medications were destroyed. His cell phone failed to find a signal. Fortunately, neighbors who had fled called his sister. She arrived from Connecticut a few hours later. He lived with her for a while. They managed to sell the house. Soon he found an apartment in a large complex across the street from the one in which I live. He concludes the piece with: “It’s a B to be a B. (that is) a Blessing to be a Buddhist!” Thanks for sharing, sir.
I just shared sad news at Facebook. Yesterday I learned that George D. had died in May, circumstances unknown. A Greek immigrant who arrived, I believe, when he was in his 20’s, he worked hard. I met him through his future wife, Donna, a fellow Exchange employee. I attended their wedding. I played many rounds of golf with George. He was as nice a guy as you would ever meet. I was a frequent guest at their house in Staten Island and was treated royally. He worked the counter at Essex, a dinner across the street from the Exchange when it was located at 4 World Trade. When we moved to One North End, George worked a counter in the cafeteria for a while. Then for many years he managed the Dunkin Donuts on Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn, which I believe was owned by his younger brother, another great guy who occasionally was a member of our foursomes. I don’t know how old George was, but I’m sure he was younger than me, 72. When the Exchange began dismantling, some of us lost contact with each other. Life isn’t always fair. If it were, someone like George would live to a hundred and die peacefully. Rest in peace, my friend. I apologize for the poor quality of the photos.
Another perfect day to sell stuff curbside. My thanks to the gentleman who bought the DVD of the jukebox musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert; and to Wolf, who purchased Art Deco Printing and Design, a pictorial, and The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout Ph.D; and to the sweet, flighty woman who selected State of the Union by Brad Thor; and to the young one who took home Truly, Madly, Deeply by Liane Moriarty, Inheritance by Judith Michael, and an erotic novel whose title escapes me. Meanwhile, two establishments nearby were being cleared out: a bar across the street and the convenience store at the corner of East 14th. I hope it’s not a bad sign for the economy.
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