2000:
The Bronx 4 October 2000 - 8:45pm
Bradshaw at 3150 for New Years Eve. Separated from him 14 April this year. – Reiny and Jodi to NY. Me to Nakomis, Florida, Feb. and March.

2001: World Trade Centre attack (11 September).

* I believe the years are off for the following because I moved from Rochambeau to Beacon and whilst there, bought the car. Then, indeed, on Easter, moved to Newburgh. I was there for about a year when Cyndi took me out of the house and whilst gone, Joe and Tony packed the U-haul and moved me out. I actually had no place to go to but Chris was sweet and had me move in there. I stayed there for about a year, working in Cragsmoor P.O. until the hours were reduced so low that I couldn’t afford to pay rent, let along the car maintenance. – Moved to Jim’s for severl months, built the wall in the Bainbridge Garden, and it was in a December that I moved to Margot’s. There for about a year or perhaps more. Then on to Rockaway for several months. Then followed the Shelter. From the Shelter, I returned to Rockaway for over a year and that led to VT where as of the date of this entry – 13.01.04CDA – ALL will come to and end at last. *

2002:

2003: DEATH! This is truly the beginning of the end of my entire existence. I’ve learned not to listen to what other people have to tell me about my life and time on earth. I should have told them all to go to Hell or something very similar this year. Liz interfered with my plans. I was prepared and ready and at peace with all and quite on the way to “out” of all of this. Then Ahlena convinced me to take a room at her house in Grove Street, Beacon. I should have gone along with my own plans. This began all the bullshit that I’m facing these days. It could have all been over and done and I could have been at real peace already. But no… I tend to find selfish idiots and morons who have no concern for anything or anybody but themselves and so… On 16 January, I left the comfort of my beautiful “home” on Rochambeau. Everything that went came with me and I stored it all in the room at Ahlena’s. No work except seasonal at Home Depot, Wappingers where I walked to and from Beacon-Wappingers more often than not. Ripped the nail from my great toe on the left foot. Ahlena was a whore, new “boys” almost every night. I got to pick up the “used” condoms in the morning because her cats were eating them. She was a junky. It was misery and hell. – Easter, moved to 19 City Terrace North, Cyndi’s. Tony resented my presence in their unfinished, unheated, dark and cold basement. I still don’t know why. It was terror again, being there, knowing that I wasn’t wanted there. – I spent the Summer trying to recapture and reconstruct “The Top” of Downing Park. I spent all my time being busy and industrious and working myself almost to death in the heat and sun. But nothing was ever appreciated. Typical Newburgh. – Got to see Dennis Nixon again! He was distant, but my heart still holds to the Dennis with whom I’d fallen in love so many years ago. It was such a wonder to be near him again.

2004: Bought a 1990 Subaru Legacy from Liz’s daughter, Brigh. I really liked the car. It was blue, it was mine, it got me around a bit. Not to all the places I’d like to go, but all the places I needed to go. I got a temporary job at the Woodbury Common. It was fun. I liked the commute from Newburgh. When that was done, I found work at Walker Valley PO. It was such a thrill, being back inWalker Valley! It was such a pleasure being with all those people in Shongum whom I’d missed and admired and really liked. Yes, there were those who weren’t worth a spit, but, for the most part, they’re all so great. And when I got the transfer up to Cragsmoor, I thought I’d gone to heaven! Cragsmoor will always hold a very special place in my heart. Some of the people up there are miserable and not worth fertilizer in a corn field. But the “real locals” are some of the most spectacular people on earth. I’ve missed them terribly. – April: one Sunday, Cyndi took me to Pine Bush to get “storage” for my things. The basement at 19 City Terrace North flooded constantly. Many of my boxes were ruined. I slept in the wet and that Summer, I got a sinus infection that almost took me out. I did find the source of the flooding and tried to repair it, but when I was away for a few days, Tony came and filled the area with cement so I couldn’t actually repair what was broken. He thrives on fighting against people. But then, let’s look at his mother and we can see where it comes from: Not too many people know this but there was a time when Tony was unemployed. He didn’t tell Cyndi, but got up and out of the house every morning. Still, the money wasn’t coming in to support his wife and 2 children. The mortgage was due, lot rent was in arrears, the car payments couldn’t be made. Yet, he did nothing to make things better because Cyndi, like her Mother, did all she could to make the difference and to try to pay the bills. One day, Tony walks into the house with a large-screen TV. He claimed him mommie gave him a loan. Truth is, his mommie forged Cyndi’s name to a loan note! Why Cyndi doesn’t take that old woman down where she belongs and dump that “thing” she’s married to is anybody’s guess. But I try to hold in my heart that she knows what she’s doing and when the opportunity presents, she’ll let that miserable lot go on about their own business. Meanwhile, back on that 4th April of this year… When we returned, there was a U-Haul in the drive. It was packed and ready to go! Joe and Tony had it all planned. It was “done”. I was thrown out. – I’d looked at a room at Chris’s house, up in Roosa Gap, but I’d never really made any plans “final”. With hope in my heart, I went up to her foor that morning, the U-Haul in her drive, and I just hoped that she’d take me in. She did! Wht made it all the more wonderful was that I was back on the mountains and in Roosa Gap. There was Peace! I loved it there. Truly.

2005:In February I was in Newburgh and needed to get another driver's license. So I went to the DMV which was now in the old Woolworth building on Broadway. Ah, the shit began: Whilst in New Prospect/Walker Valley, I'd bought an old Audi from some thief in Cornwall. "It just needs and alignment." he told me. But as I drove from New Prospect to Poughkeepsie, Vassar Hospital, I noticed that the car would swerve horribly when-ever I made even the slightest turn. So I took it in to a garage in Esopus where the mechanic showed me that the "CV joints" were completely shot! I'd paid 400$ for the car and it would cose me almost 2300 "just to pass inspection". I gave the car up and told the mechanic to junk it. He took the car but never reported that he'd junked it and DMV had be down as owning a vehicle un-registered and un-insured! They wouldn't give me a license until I could prove that I hadn't had the car in many years! So I gave them a report and they issued a temporary, "Restricted" license that allowed me to go to and from work: the address on the old license was 1563 Metropolitan Ave! Issued: 9 February 2005. But I got the license anyway. Finally, in March, DMV received the proof they needed and re-issued a full license: address PO Box 104, Walker Vally. Issued: 9 March 2005. Espired: 30 August 2011. Well, Chris got Harry into her life and Harry didn’t want me in their life. So he made it as miserable as possible for me every time I took a breath. I planted shrubs and laid stone walks and reconstructed a small stone wall along the drive for Chris. But Harry saw it all as competition. Eventually, I had no choice but to move out. Unprepared and unable to really make an end meet, I left. Left the car at the Cragsmoor PO to be towed away by some group who paid 50$ for it. I donated the money to the Cragsmoor library. I didn’t know where else to go to so I headed back to The City. I didn’t want to go back to that, but there was no work in the country. Jim offered floor space at his flat. I had no other choice and so, I accepted. Most of what I had to my name, I put into postal boxes and mailed it to him. The rest went into the storage unit in Pine Bush... the unit that Cindy had told me she'd "help" maintain. On "moving day" all I needed to do was get on the train from Beacon to Marble Hill. Oddly, it was returning to the very first area of The Bronx where I'd started my life there, many years prior, when I had to leave Mamaroneck. Little did I know… there was no work in The City either. I began to slip into the cracks of the world… Jim was "welcoming" when I arrived, told me not to panic about finding work. He knew how difficult it would be and at first, was most re-assuring. Since he worked at home (for Chase, the banque that had all but sacked all of us from Chemical not long before) I did my very best to stay out of the way. Not to mention, my "place" was an inflatable mattress on the living-room floor. (I still remember waking one night because a roach crawled across my upper lip as I slept there.)

2006:

Jim's
April, had to leave the PO Cragsmoor. Moved to Jim’s in Kingsbridge Heights. He was sweet enough to give shelter. But I continued to starve. Couldn’t find work. Slept on an inflatable mattress on the living-room floor. Spent every waking moment out on the streets. Summer at Brighton Beach for the entire day. – Built stone wall at Bainbridge Avenue Garden. Some income. – Total income for the year about 3.000,00 dollars. The misery continues. The hell is here. – Spent a lot of time in the libraries too. Anything and anywhere to be away from the flat and away from anybody. Riverdale Temple 11 August(WordPress)
(Riverdale Temple - Wordpress)
In August, found the Riverdale Temple and started going to services again! That lasted about a year.

I did get to some wonderful, free, out-door concerts this year. Hours of stepping out of the present and back into better times, better days. They served well, as diversions and distractions, the ability to live again, in memories (Poor pictures... "flip-phone"):

26 July: Spinners at Wingate Park, Brooklyn

21 June: Contours and Manhattans at Wingate Park, Brooklyn

17 August: Main Ingredient at South Street Seaport, Pier 17, Manhattan

21 August: Mavis Staples at Lincoln Centre

2007:

I had to see this year in officially “Homeless”. Yes, I’d been staying at Jim’s since April 2006. But the plain and simple truth of the matter had been… just like every other place I’d looked to for shelter since the day I left Rochambeau Avenue… I wasn’t wanted and my presence wasn’t appreciated. I made myself physically sick trying to stay out of peoples’ way, and it ate away at me… mentally, physically, emotionally and all other ways. On precious little sleep each night, I found refuge in local libraries, walking the streets and country roads of Orange, Ulster, Sullivan Counties, and the streets of the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island. First thing in the morning, I’d wake, exhausted from lack of sleep, make instant coffee in a glass, using water from the tap in the loo whilst sitting on the toilet, gulp it down. Then, a hasty shower, dry, dress and out the door as quickly as possible to be out of the way. Rain or shine, early or late, there have been more mornings when I walked out of the building and stood, on the sidewalk, wondering where I would go for the rest of the day. No destination. Empty. Alone. All I knew was that my presence in the house wasn’t appreciated and it made it so that I couldn’t go back. So I wandered… When I had the resources, I would go to Brighton, to the beach, for the entire day in the sun. When I didn’t have the resources, I walked… walked… walked… most days, I covered some 20-plus miles just wandering. There have been days when I found a bench in a park and fell asleep. There have been days when I simply got on the subway to sleep. Lately? There have been days when I do nothing more than walk… anywhere and everywhere… aimlessly. It’s not that I haven’t tried to find work. I built a stone wall at the Bainbridge Garden, I did landscaping, hauling 100-plus pounds of granite slabs. I’ve looked for work. I’ve been told I’m “over qualified”, I’ve noted that the reaction to my in-person interviews resulted in the “You’re too old to hire” look. I’m 51. I have energy. I’m grossly under-weight, but I’m capable of performing far beyond excellently. But, the fact remains, I’m unemployed. The month of February this year has found me in a position where, if not for the grace and kindness of Margot, I’d be on the streets or in a shelter. If anyone knew what the shelters are like, they’d understand why I prefer the streets. If anyone had even a trace of compassion, they’d understand why I’ve chosen to simply do what truly has to be done. I’ve been around here for 51 years. I’m tired. I’m burning out so quickly. I have no “home”. I have no place to sit quietly and enjoy a meal at my own pace. I have no place to cook. I’ve survived on bread, peanut butter and jelly for 3 days at a time. I’ve had to make my sandwiches in the parks and eat them there. I’ve had to fight, fight, fight for nothing more than the very next moment in time. And now? Now I’m not fighting anything any longer. Today, I’m looking forward to “Peace”. And there’s only one way to attain that: the way my Mom did. And, in all honesty and with all sincerity, I’ve calmly planned the details and arranged everything necessary. Today, it’s all down to the time when I leave here. A nice, quiet departure. That’s the way it’s going to go. My sister says she’ll worry and miss me. The fact is, I have 3 siblings who could offer a bit of help at this point. Everything I have left to my world is now being auctioned off to strangers. My Hudson Bay blanket that brought me so much joy. The hand-crocheted afghan that took me 4 weeks to make, that gave me warmth on cold days. My music… so many CDs of music of all kinds, music that I haven’t been able to listen to in more than 5 years. There’s no joy, no pleasure, no happiness left. And so, it’s time to go. Do I care about how people remember me? Do I care IF they remember me? No. Not anymore. It’s simply time to go. Eventually, the memories of everything and anything I’ve ever done will be gone. Sooner… I will be gone. There is no “God” and there is no “Heaven” or “Hell”. There’s only here and now and I’m so worn that the here and now isn’t worth a moment of later. So, with a very calm and peaceful heart, I take my self to where I want to go, to where I want to leave from, and in peace and quiet and solitude, I leave. There really isn’t anything more to be said. Anyone reading this will eventually forget that I was ever here. But at least I have these quick notes of my past for them to read through when there’s nothing left for them to do. It’s been a tough 51 years. There have been so many wonderful times. I think of them more than anything else these recent days. So ,with the joyful memories of the wonderful moments, I leave. The year is done.. the shit is done… I’m SO out of here! Time to go “Home” . I’m ready. Winter! 2007! Winter… my most favourite season of all… my departure from my most favourite place of all. I’ve worked long and hard for this. I deserve at least this much. But like everything else in my existence, I’ve had to work very hard for it. But, unlike almost everything else in my existence… this is all worth the effort.

There were more concerts to attend, more peace of mind in those wonderful days of yore. Alone, yes, so it would have seemed. But for those hours, surrounded by the music, I was with good friends and lovers. (More "flip-phone pictures.)

16 June: Anita Baker at Coney Island, Brooklyn

26 June: Spinners at Battery Park, Manhattan

29 July: Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys at Lincoln Centre, Manhattan

20 August: Spinners and O'Jays, Wingate Park, Brooklyn

I'd discovered Rockaway simply because it was the farthest point I could travel away from Riverdale on the A train (the longest line in the NYC subway system). It had become my refuge, my respite, my escape, my peace and I set my mind to remove to there, as soon as I could afford to do so. As It turned out, I got my lousy little "Home Care" job with "Patient Care" (who ultimately led to my demise and residence in the Homeless Shelter) and with my very first pay-cheque, completely un-prepared, financially, of course, I BOLTED! I'd been with Ms. Margot from February 2006, attending to her every barked order and wish, but when I asked Rabbi Lewis (Riverdale Temple) if she'd (Margot) ever insinuated or hinted that money was gone missing and the Rabbi said nothing... I knew... it was time to get out and away before my reputation was completely devastaed. I went to Rockaway!

2008:

I spent many hours in the National Archives in NYC in March this year, reseraching in detail, the history of Fort Tilden. Registration card issued: 27 March 2008. Espired: 28 March 2009. I retrieved SO many documents and maps and made many, MANY notes on the history of The Fort. I was amazed, thrilled, delighted with my research. Several binders were made with maps and notes. (They're all gone now... went to the highest bidder whilst I was in Richford... thank you Nancy... "friend". Fuck.)

2009: