Prior Ties

My big sister photographs for fun. She’s not bad. In fact, sometimes people pay for her service. She posts some work, which often includes family members, here. Two of the photos are of particular interest to me; in these, my little sister is pictured wearing a plaid tie. I have ties to Idaho. The majority of my belongings remain there, including most of my tie collection.

Prior to New York, I recently graduated college. More school was not an option, and I wanted out of my current occupation. The big city, “professional” life seemed attractive and adventurous. So, I entered New York a fish out of water, and eventually, I will leave the ocean for a small stream. This is not to say, however, that I do not like the ocean. It helped me realize my personal priorities.

What do you want to do with your life? A common question asked of students. Post graduation provides reflection.

In New York, I’ve seen a new world. On top of a skyscraper, I look down at Central Park, Chinatown, Harlem, Brooklyn, Queens, the entire New York Metropolitan Sea. In its water I see a clear reflection of my life – family, friends, goals and aspirations, and priorities. New York is my big sister, Idaho my little. She has been of great help, but now my little sister needs me.

Pro Choice

Stiff westward wind – whoosh!
A cubicle abortion
might revive the soul.

One Nation Under Obama

Although Nielsen’s address is 770 Broadway, it is actually located on 9th St between Broadway and Lafayette. The address is an attempt to add prestige. After work, I walk to the corner of 8th St and Lafayette to board a local 6 train at the Astor Place Station. I get off at the first stop, Union Square, and transfer to an express 4 or 5 train until I reach 125th St. The entire trip takes about 20-40 minutes. Yesterday, it was especially entertaining.

I was about to take a step onto a 5 train at Union Square, when a short, overweight African American man, disguised as former all-pro Oakland Raider Tim Brown, barged his way onto the train. I entered after him. As the train left the station, I took a closer look at the man who caused me discomfort.

Mr. Brown stared at his feet, probably in guilt for taking the space of three average sized people on a crowded train. He carried a cylinder of liquid. He shook it as he obnoxiously cleared his throat again and again. The train reached Grand Central, 42nd St, and came to a stop. Mr. Brown maneuvered his way into the center of the car. As the train accelerated, he cleared his throat one last time.

“Brothers and Sisters,” he shouted. I removed an earphone. His English was terrible, so bad that I turned my music off to listen. For me, it became a game of interpretation. “The education is a key. Your child can be a lawyer, the doctor, or the teacher. Amen,” he said strewing articles all about. He turned in my direction and smiled with his tooth. For a moment our eyes caught. “The future is a education, Brother. Amen.”

I agreed with Mr. Brown. I wanted to see what others thought of his message. The floor was his; nearly every passenger on the train was affixed. He spoke again, “Praise Jesus, Amen. Get off the streets, help your the fellow man, send a your children to the college. Amen.”

For the first time in New York, I felt an urge to donate. I reached for my wallet. “The education is a key. Amen.” Unlike most subway preachers, Mr. Brown didn’t complain about life circumstance or even ask for money. In addition, he wore Tim Brown’s jersey, a Notre Dame alumnus (my favorite college football team).

He spoke as we approached 125th St. “I believe in the education. Amen. I do not believe in a God. There is no the God. I believe in the President. The Obama, Amen. He is key. I love him. Listen to him. He says the education is key. I love him. I believe in him. Praise Jesus, Amen.”

A wallet fell back into the pocket. I exited a train and walked home the richer man.