You are very welcome. . . . . .And . . . .

. . . . . . . . . let me add this

I was visiting New York City in 1992. A friend of mine had opened a new dance club on, or around fifty ninth street. His way of asking me to share in on the experience of opening night was to send me airline tickets, a limo, and to provide me with first class accommodations in the Big Apple. I said yes.

Here I am in my hotel on my first day there, when I decide to wait until after the crowds clear a bit before visiting my friends club. I call him, telling him how I would rather wait until later, and he agrees that doing so would be best. Now, after some time had passed, I made another decision, I would do a bit of regressing, and forgo the limo ride to the club, and opt instead for a subway ride.

When I was young, at not by any choice of my own, the streets of New York happened to be my home. And one of my favorite places to sleep would be on a moving train. I would curl up on the last seat in the last car of the train, and slowly let the rhythm of the movement of the train, and the sounds, clickity clack, clickity clack, take me off to some distant land. And although I would sleep deeply, on some level, I would never lose any awareness of what was happening around me.

Now, anchors being what they are, I at first  had to work at staying awake, but not for long, as I began thinking of what I was thinking about so many years ago. And I remember then, my wondering if I would remember what it was like, or if, like the passing of time, the future would remove me, not only from that world, but also  from any memory of it.

All of this thinking, and I almost missed my stop. I had to quickly exit the train, and as I did, whatever I was thinking quickly faded away, leaving me focused on the moment, the growing sound of silence as the train  continued gaining distance as it moved away leaving me alone, ready to continue my journey.

So, here it is, one o'clock in the morning, and I am standing in this subway. I was riding on the last car, so when I exited, it left me two blocks further away from where I was going. There was an exit right behind me, and an exit at the other end of the subway station. At first, I opted for the exit right behind me, but then after a second of feeling a bit odd, something inside of me told me to go to the other end to exit. Not being in any mood to argue, I followed that advice. I then walked the two blocks underground, and when I finally did exit the subway, I looked back, two blocks away at the exit I was going to take, and saw there three men sitting, waiting, for the next person who would exit there. And, in looking at them I realized, there are things we learn in life that invaluable. And, it was in thinking about what I was thinking so many years ago when I often slept on the subway,  did I reactivate a certain sense I used to have. A sense that saved me from having to deal with the three men with sticks in hand, waiting for the next person to come up those steps at that exit I  almost chose to take.

Stay well

Carmine