At Rockefeller Center in what might be the most perfect spot in terms of air conditioning. I am directly under one of the vents, and Rockefeller Center has air conditioning that is, if anything, a little over the top even on very hot days. I had a conversation about that with one of the post office workers, who has to bring a jacket to work in the summer time because it is so freakin’ cold down here, expecially in the office areas where there are fewer warm bodies moving about.
I feel entirely spaced out today after 12 or 13 hours of sleep. I was up earlier yesterday but did not feel exceedingly tired, but sometimes that kind of reckoning gets away from me. I did not eat anything for dinner last night but did get up at some point to eat a salad and a hunk of bread. I was afraid I had made the mistake I made a few months ago when I ordered something off Grubhub and then fell so har to sleep that I slept through the doorbuzzer, which is loud enough to wake the dead. I did barely wake up enough to hear the buzzer but just let it go. No harm done, since everything is paid for, but I decided not to order from that place again for a while.
I’ve been thinking about my dad again. Yesterday I spotted his car parked at 38th Avenue and 30th Street, and for that first instant of recognition I thought “What’s he doing here?” Of course that instant gave way just as quickly to knowing that the car belongs to a friend of mine now, and said friend happened to have mentioned in an e-mail that he had taken the car in for some kind of maintenance. A small and insignificant coincidence that I happened to pass by his vehicle in an area far enough away from the car’s usual climes to make it noticeable.
I was also just remembering how I brought my father’s Bible up here after he died. He was not religious in any way, as far anyone has reason to believe. I think he held on to that Bible simply because his mother had given it to him. It is very tightly printed, with little room in the margins, but when I started leafing through the pages I was surprised to find that someone had evidently read every page of every book of the Bible and underlined choice phrases and highlighted certain passages. There were also handwritten notes here or there, for as much as one could notate in such a small amount of margin space.
I found it surprising, even astounding to think that my father had done this. He was not even a reader of books to begin with but what must have possessed him to do something like travel through the complete Bible?
It did not take me long to figure out whose writing I was looking at. It was mine. I barely recognized my childhood handwriting but that was it, without question, and that recognition raised the foggy memory of having read the Bible end to end while violating its pages with notations. At first it made me smile to know I had done this but then it made me sad, as almost all things have a capacity to do. How could I have embarked and such a journey while retaining zero memory of it? For whatever intents and purposes it may serve I would say that have virtually no Bible verses in memory or at the ready for purposes of conversational wit or wisdom. What, then, would anyone who found this think of my comments or what would they think of me for having done this? What else of me is out there that represents me as someone I would not even recognize?
I thought along these lines earlier today as I sorted through and discarded most of my sports trading cards from grade school. I saved a few dozen for old times’ sake but threw out hundreds. A certain set of cards I forgot about were the team cards, which had a photo of all the players and a checklist on back with each of their names. The checklist was there so you could check off with pen or pencil which players’ cards you had and leave blank the checkbox next to those whose cards you lacked. I cannot believe I ever did that but there it was, evidence of my industriousness in keeping tabs on my collection, which never was really anywhere near complete. Why did I do that?
Another surprise, but one which I remembered clearly upon discovery, is that I have a couple of Farrah Fawcett Majors trading cards, from the “Charlie’s Angels” series of cards. I don’t believe i ever purchased any CA cards but I must have traded some sports cards and obtained the Farrah cards from another kid. I also have a stray pair of “Star Wars” cards which I likely procured in the same manner, not by purchasing but trading. It’s funny to see that sort of thing now and remember the enthusiasm which informed my pursuit of those silly little things.
At least it could all be considered normal, even by today’s standards. I mean trading cards became kind of a dullard’s investment long ago, and their enduring monetary value is negligible. One exception from reent times was the first-ever Tiger Woods card, a piece of cardboard I possessed for at least a short period of time before discarding it. I had it because I, like all Time Inc. employees, got free copies of all the magazines published there, including “SI For Kids”, which began its print run while I was there. I collected and kept a lot of those Time Inc. magazines but for whatever reason I did not keep hold of that particular issue, which was later selling on eBay for something like $18,000. The magazine was only valuable like that if it was in pristine condition and, most importantly, if the sheet of trading cards was fully intact. That was rare because usually when kids got those magazines they cut out the trading cards, something I don’t think I would ever have done.
Yeah yeah yeah, it’s all good, but a funny story. Having said this is the best spot around for air conditioning I now find it’s making me shiver. Should leave anyway, I think they are getting ready to clear these tables anyway, for whatever it is they do here every Friday.
Funny scene just now. Two people were getting up to leave their table and, ninja-style because how you have to act to get a seat around here, a group of four people approached the table. One of the four people had a pizza, and as a joke he offered the pizza to the two people leaving, saying “Delivery!” Everybody laughed heartily. It was good to see, strangers sharing a transient laugh.
