October 23, 2005 (Post date) October 16, 2005 (Blog date)

Today my wake up call (about 6 in the morning) was an argument between my foster father and his forty-something year old son. What started the fight? My foster father asked his son to use the hallway door to go to the bathroom. Background?!!? The forty-something year old has been sleeping in the living room. The living room has two doors one leads to the kitchen, and the other leads to the hallway. My foster father told his son that if he has to go to the bathroom, he should use the hallway door, especially while there are people sitting at the table eating. This time both were in a very bad mood. It was almost as if they wanted to pick up right where the last fight left off. This time the son was in no mood for me to be peace maker. I believe he realized that his…. “logic” doesn’t work on anyone but his father. He quickly (and angrily) told me not to interfere when he is talking to his father. Neither one was talking, just shouting. The shouting continued until the threats started. Once I realized that a fight would most likely be imminent, I positioned myself between the two. The son seemed to feel that he was entitled to ask the question (over and over again). Does the door rule only apply to him? The son also changed the focus of the argument to not being allowed to wear pajamas in the kitchen.

Like father like son, when the argument isn’t going your way, change the argument.

When I tried talking to the son, the father would shout over me, and when tried talking to the father…oh, you know.

Basically, I was in the same situation I was in when I broke up fights in my elementary school classroom. I stood in the middle and tried to reason with the participates. Exactly what the teacher’s union recommends that the teacher not do.

Well anyway, the argument continued, and it escalated. It seemed like the son was determined to win the argument at any costs. And it seemed like the father felt like the son was “trying to take over the house”.

Here, I’ll leave out a few details.

As the father began looking for his metal pipe, I focused my reasoning skills (as poor as they are) on the son. The son went on and on about how he does not… will not be disrespected by anyone. He went on about how he has a right to speak and no one can and will tell he what he can and can’t do.

To make a long story short (leaving out a few more details), I managed to prevent history from repeating itself. Apparently, they had a very similar fight while I was in Japan. Sorry, since I was not involved with that fight, I am not going to go into details.

Anyway, I managed to stop the argument. The participates went to their corners. The father worked on his…uh…lottery numbers in his bedroom, and the son ate his oatmeal in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the son asked to speak to me. He came into my room to lecture me about disrespect. He wasn’t so much angry as he was trying to persuade me to see things his way. He mentioned that I was being disrespectful for interrupting their “conversation”, and I was being disrespectful for not saying “excuse me” before interrupting. When he found that I would not see things his way, he said that he had a headache and didn’t want to hear what I had to say. He walked out of the room, I started to follow him into his room (living room), but he closed the door in my face. Rather than get into a fight (or another argument) I just continued talking through the door. He whined about how he had a headache and he needed to sleep.

A few minutes later, the father asked me to call the older son.

The older son said that he would be over in a few minutes. I expected another loud argument. I expected a continuation. But, what was the encounter like?

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The older son (he is in his mid 50s) arrived, he said “pack your shit, you are going back to your sister’s house” (yes, the one with the big house). That’s it! No argument. No fight. Nothing. The (former) tough-talking (disabled) ex-marine had nothing to say. It took him about 45 minutes to pack one duffle bag. Later (when he is about to leave), he was whistling like nothing happened.

After the 40-something year old son was driven up to his sister’s house, my foster father spent the rest of the day (actually a couple of days) saying, “we got rid of him”. That was very annoying! It wasn’t him, and it wasn’t me. Neither one of us was the one that reined in the wayward son. It was the older brother. After the 40-something was kicked out, I then had to listen to my foster father shouting at his grandson about how he also “better watch out”, or he (my foster father) would kick his grandson out the same way he kicked out his 40-something son.



I was angry and annoyed, so I did what I usually do. I went for a walk. From my home I walked to 125th street and Broadway. I walked down Broadway until 72nd street. There used to be a public toilet near the 72nd street subway station, but unfortunately, it was no longer there. Since I had to go to the bathroom, I decided to return home. I walked across 72nd street to 8th avenue. While walking down 8th avenue I walked past the New York Museum. The NY Museum had a special exhibition about slavery in New York. It is not a topic I am interested in, but it is educational. I told myself several times that I would go, but I kept procrastinating, so I decided to go, even though I was tired, and had to go to the bathroom.

I was amazed that the exhibition was so crowded; I was also surprised that there seemed to me to be more European-Americans than African-Americans there. I thought the exhibition was very interesting, I even forgot (a little) that I had to go to the bathroom). The only down side (if any) was that a lot of the crowd moved like snails, or would stand in front of exhibitions having personal conversation, even though there were lines to see almost all of the different displays. At the exhibition, there was a handwritten draft of the Emancipation Proclamation. After visiting the Slavery exhibition, I still had about 30 minutes before the museum closed, so I went to see some other exhibitions. I was able to take a few photos.

About the photos. Sorry for the delay with posting photos on my other web site. I have about 5 sets that need to be posted.

I will (try to) visit the internet café next weekend to upload the photos. I narrowed the photos to about 64 pictures in total. Although I do have a free internet connection, it is limited (only 20 hours per month at dial-up speed). Once I get my own apartment, I’ll get one of those high-speed DSL connections.

Well, I think that is about it… Until next time….

October 19, 2005
I’m back. Sorry, it has been a while. The situation that I started to write about continued to escalate, plus I did a couple of walking trips around the city, plus my lack of employment, plus the new TV (bought to fight the boredom), have all contributed to a lack of diligence on my part with writing entries for this blog. Sorry! Since I have a bit of a logjam with my entries, I think that it is best to write in the present tense.

October 15th A continuation….

This morning, my foster father’s 40 something year old son wanted to confirm that he was going to be driven up to his sister’s home. At 5:30 in the morning, that was not a good time to ask. Since the son kept pestering the father, the father finally said no. The “no” put the son in a bad mood. He started making unnecessary noises in the kitchen. Yes, I did say that his age was forty something. First, he started banging the sink drainer in the trashcan to get the food out. Then he started scrambling eggs (for French toast) in a glass bowl. The son kept making noise while arguing that a man keeps his word, and broken promises. Normally I don’t get involved in the petty arguments, but this one seemed to be escalating. I came out of my room and mentioned that there was a plastic bowl in the cabinet that would not make as much noise as a metal fork and a glass bowl. At first the arguing stopped, but then they started again. So the next time, I just sat at the kitchen table hoping that my presence would diffuse the tension. And I was correct. And it only cost me 2 hours of listening to the son ramble on about this and that. The son was basically trying to find an argument that that would show that he was right and his father was wrong. Unfortunately, whenever I pointed out a flaw in his argument (and occasionally in his logic) he would just change the topic, but the underlining theme was that he was right and his father was wrong.

After playing referee for the morning, I’d planned to go to the Staples (office supply) store to buy a bookcase, but things don’t always go according to plan. Today was the last day of the sale. Lucky for me (or so I thought) that there was a Staples store on 125th street. About a 10 block walk from my home. Arriving at the store, I asked the clerk where the bookcases on sale were. The clerk said that the 125th street branch did not have furniture, and he recommended that I go to the branch on 81st and Broadway, I though that was very nice. Since the weather was beautiful (after having almost 3 straight days of rain), I decided to go.

When I got out of the train station, I noticed an electronic store across the street. I decided (just for the heck of it) to check the prices of the TVs. I was planning to go to the mall in Jersey City to buy a TV from Sears. In the electronic store the TV prices were good, so I decided to buy a TV and a DVD player. The TV was $113.00 (including tax). I asked the price for delivery………It was $50.0!!! I decided to take the TV myself. I felt a little bit uncomfortable taking a 20 inch TV on the train. However, I arrived home safe.

After returning home, I realized that I would need a cable connector (a metal bit used to connect the cable cord to the TV). I don’t know why, but the Staples store was the first store that popped into my head. So I walked back to Staples. On the way, would you believe that a small group of boys were practicing throwing a football across 6 lanes of traffic (Lenox Avenue). At Staples, in the electronics section, I asked for a cable connector, the clerk said that the 125th Staples “sucked because it did not have anything” (his words not mine). On my way out the store, one of the other clerks noticed something on the shelf under the counter near the cash register. Instead of being professional and dealing with the object, she’s laughing loudly and has to call other clerks over to see. What was it? It was a used (??) condom tossed on the shelf.

The helpful clerk (not the laughing lady) from Staples recommended Radio Shack. So I walked to Radio Shack. In Radio Shack, the sales staff were not helpful. One clerk was being taught the name and location of something by a customer. The clerk at the cash register kept me waiting while he moved slower than molasses talking (in Spanish) to someone who did not seem to be a customer, and the topic did not seem to be related to anything in the store. However, since I don’t speak Spanish, I can’t be sure what the conversation was about.

Well, I left out a few details, but I think you get the picture. It is late. Until next time…

I forgot the title for this entry. I have not written an entry for a few days. Part of the reason was that it has been raining here in New York like there was no tomorrow. I have not done anything worth writing about. I don’t think I remember it ever raining consistently for 3 days straight. Today there is finally a break in the raining. Unfortunately, there is a chance of rain later today.

The other reason for the gap was that my blog entries were a bit too negative, and were straying off the topic…me. I realize that if the situation does not really involve me, then I should not be writing about other people. So, for the past few days, I have not written about the arguments, the shouting, the lies, problems etc…since none of them involved me. Only the head-splitting headaches they give me. This morning however, I got involved. So, I guess I can do a little bit of wr….complaining. Who am I kidding, this blog is an exercise in venting. It is all about…almost all about complaining. And now on with the show.

This morning around 5:30 I was awaken by a conversation, or a broken stove door creaking open. I don’t remember. Anyway, I went back to bed, and only minutes later an argument started between my foster father and his son. Son?!?! Oh, the son who wanted to stay a couple of weeks ago, but had to be convinced that there was no space for him. You still don’t remember. Okay, the son (I mentioned in a previous blog) who arrived at 4 in the morning banging on the door. Well, he got his way. He has been living here for the past several days. Since the arguments and conflicts had not involved me, I did not write about them. Anyway, the argument this morning….


Sorry, the bathroom is finally free, so to be continued….

October 8, 2005

Today it is a very rainy day here in New York. Earlier today, I walked to the store to buy a newspaper (around 1pm – yes, in the afternoon). On my way back home, I was about to enter the code to open the main door into the building when two police officers ran up to me and told me to drop everything (in this case my umbrella and the newspaper than I’d just bought), turn around and put my hands up. While one of the police officers patted me down (asking if I was carrying anything that I should not be), the other officer had his hand on his gun. After being frisked, one of the officers explained that I matched the description of someone who just robbed someone on the 2nd floor of my building. Yes, I was entering the building (not exiting), but let me not quibble on minor details. A few minutes later the officer explained that the person they were looking for had a gun. Although, the officer just finished patting me down (no gun), and was holding my driver’s license, I was asked to stand at the door of my home like I was a common criminal. They were waiting for conformation that it was okay to let me go. Later, the confirmation came, The second officer returned to tell the other officer that they needed to look for a guy in a car (I forgot the name of the car).

I did not realize that there were many (or any) overweight, balding, half blind, goofy looking, geeky African American criminals walking into the scene of a crime….now I do….and so do my neighbors.

I supposed that after all of this “misunderstanding” was cleared up, I should have mentioned the drug dealer on the first floor (my father seems to always be complaining about) and the strangers that come and go like that apartment was the local Kmart. And would it have been proper to complain to the officers about those same strangers who use the elevator like a bathroom (urine on an almost weekly basis, and the occasional feces deposit [2x]). Well, what does a stupid looking criminal know.

October 6, 2005

I walked to an internet café on 125th street to download a copy of my credit report from the big 3 credit reporting agencies. Here in New York, a new law was passed allowing residents one free copy of their credit report each year. But, you have to request the reports. After downloading my credit reports, I went to a sandwich shop for lunch. Not the best lunch. The guy behind the counter cut up so many onions that my eyes and his were tearing up. After lunch, since the weather was so nice, I decided to walk around the perimeter of Central Park. From 125th street, I walked to 110th street and 8th avenue (the Northwest corner of Central Park). From 110th street, I walked along 8th avenue to 59th street (the southwest corner). I walked along 59th street to 5th avenue (the southeast corner). From there, I walked down 5th avenue to 110th street (the northeast corner of Central Park). And finally, I walked to the public bathroom at the Discovery Center in Central Park (about midway between 5th avenue and 8th avenue. The only bathroom during this walking trip. Here in New York, public bathrooms are extremely rare. I walked home from there. In total, I walked about 3 hours (including the stops for taking photos along the way). Since I don’t know how to upload (or the blog site won’t allow) multiple photos on this blog, I will put the photos on my other web site. The photos are mostly of the statures around the perimeter of Central Park. The photos should be up in a few days.

October 2, 2005 Another blog entry. About midday, I decided to go for a walk. I was bored, not angry. Luckily, everyone seemed the forget t he arguing this morning. About the walk. At first, I was a little tired from the Friday walk around Central Park Reservoir, so I decided to take the bus downtown and then walk back. As I was riding the city bus, I was enjoying the great weather that I did not want to get off of the bus. However, I realized that if I did not get off of the bus, I would have a very long way to walk. I rode the bus down 5th avenue and got off at 74th street and 5th avenue – the east side of Central Park. I though that I would be tired, but the weather was so great, that I really enjoyed the walk. I started at 74th street on the east side. I walked through Central Park to the west side, and I walked down 7th avenue. At 125th street, I found a internet café. I stayed at the internet café for 30 minutes, did some window shopping (I bought 2 long-sleeved shirts), and then I returned home. I hadn’t eaten lunch, so I was very hungry. Lucky for me, my foster father’s lady friend cooked dinner, so I was able to eat without cooking. Also, my foster father wants his grandson to share some of the responsibilities, so Fridays thru Mondays, his grandson has to wash the dishes. After I ate, I washed my own dishes, as a dishwasher, I know what it feels like when others leave their dirty dishes for me to wash, so I am not going to do it to someone else. After washing my dish, I noticed that we were out of butter, so I walked to the store to buy some butter. I was surprised; I was not tired from walking. Strange, I seem (I hope) to be going back to my old self. The last few months in Japan, it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to walk long distances. The way I felt today, I think that I could have easily walked from 42nd street to 135th street.

The day started lousy, but it turned into a very nice day!

October 2, 2005 Today started with my usual wake up call. My foster father received a call from his eldest son. My foster father seemed a little upset at the early call. Next he goes to his grandson, to wake him up telling him that he has to go downstairs to get the paper that the elder son would give him. A little background information. The grandson was supposed to complete a job application last week, but he forgot something, so he was not able to complete the job application. Also, the grandson is also supposed to be going to some kind of boot camp school, and the paperwork needs to be completed. Whichever paper it was (I wasn’t sure), each one has a story (that I won’t go into), and each one is important. I wasn’t going to get involved. However, as the yelling continued, I became angry (and got involved). My foster father went on to say that his grandson needed to learn responsibility (and that he shouldn’t be sleeping all day [it was about 7:30 in the morning]). After about 10 to 12 minutes, of demanding that his grandson move faster and stop wasting time (because the elder son was very busy and should not be kept waiting, the grandson finally went downstairs. I went to my foster father and said that he was wrong and that the elder son should have brought up the application himself. However, my foster father said that I did not know the whole story, and I should not interfere. My foster father and I were arguing, and then….my foster father and his lady friend were arguing. I returned to my room and sat angry for about 5 minutes. The grandson still had not returned after about 5 minutes, so I decided to go downstairs in my pajamas and bathrobe to talk to the elder son. After I returned, everyone seemed to agree that this incident should not have happened, and I was assured that it would not happen again. Only time will tell….
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Oh, and what about the application that started this mess. It appears that I was mistaken. The paper had nothing to do with the job application, nor with the “boot camp” school. The paper was….the Sunday newspaper!

Another blog entry for today. Before I briefly recount my day, let me explain the photo on the left. Do you recognize the object in the photo? If you’ve read the previous blog about my adventure at Ground Zero, then you know what the object is. It is one of the Path train’s turnstiles. This time, I didn’t go to Jersey City through the World Trade Center site. This photo was taken at the Jersey City station next to the mall. Also here, there was no station attendant. However, I am very happy to report that this time the trip went much, much smoother.

Before I describe today’s boring events, let me describe the photo/turnstile. This is one of the single ride machines. If you are planning to only buy a one way ticket, then you would use this ticket machine. It takes only cash and coins. As you can see from the photo, the machine does not take bills higher than a five-dollar bill. Remember the lady I mentioned (in the previous “zero” blog entry), who couldn’t get change for a $20 bill. Now, look on top of the turnstile. The white cap on top has a red light inside. After you pay your fare, the red light will flash once (only once), so if you are not looking, you will miss it. Under the white cap, you can see the small monitor screen. Before you pay, there is a dark green arrow. After you pay, the monitor beeps once, and then the dark green arrow turns light green. And finally, if you are using a metro and/or PATH card, then it is inserted into the front of the turnstile. The fare is automatically deducted from the card, and the card is released above the insert point. You have to insert your card, wait for the machine to release it, and check to amount remaining (on the small screen on the front of the turnstile [just above where the card is inserted]) before you can walk through the turnstile. When the turnstile is turns light green, you will have about 5 to 10 seconds to walk through the turnstile. No proof you paid, and no attendant to help if you have a problem. Well, I think I’ve written enough about the PATH turnstile. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.

Today started off with me typing up the previous blog entry. While I was typing my father and his lady friend returned from grocery shopping. They bought much more than I was expecting. For the past month, I was doing much of the shopping. Unfortunately, I wasn’t doing much of the eating. I thought it was nice that a lot of food was bought. Unfortunately, they brought a little too much junk food (pound cake, a 12 pack of glazed donuts, a family-size pack of cookies, a pack of bologna etc…).

Today, I returned to the Jersey City mall mentioned in the previous “zero” blog. This time the traveling was much, much smoother. At the mall, the first place I went was the food court (Panda Express). After lunch, I went to the movie at the mall to see “Corpse Bride”. I enjoyed the movie very much. There was a very “artsy” style to it. After the movie, I wandered around the mall for awhile. I brought a couple of slacks for when I am called (I hope) to start substitute teaching. After wandering for awhile, I ate dinner at Burger King. Strange how I can complain about the lack of health food, but I seem to be unable to resist the fast food. I really have to start exercising. I really want to buy a rowing machine. Well, that’s about it. Until next time…

I really didn’t want to get involved, but…I got involved. Now my best hope is to minimize the damage.

Just a quick entry (I hope) before I stop by the internet shop, then Jersey City.









Sorry, the above may (or may not be) directly related to me. But I wanted to get it off my chest. Nothing major (or personally), but since I just spent about an hour typing I really did not want to delete what I had just spent so much time writing. In a couple of days, I’ll delete it. Sorry for the confusion. Until next time......