This incarnation has been memorable.  I see the journey in increments such as laughing children, smiling faces and joy.   As I age gentleness becomes easier.  Along with the aching bones and fatigue.  I have been blessed to be a Black man.  A conscious thinking proud Black Male.  In a world of want I have lacked nothing.  Even here in America where poverty is just a missed paycheck away.  

    She brings joy to my world.  Her gritty smile conquer the world attitude has broken my peace.  She finds the voids in my world and fills them up.  Unacknowledged by me I have missed things.  The type of insignificance that mid fifties black males who live alone learn to do without.  You know like proper diet, sweeping  floors and her favorite getting the damn mode off the shower curtain.  Finally there is water.  I never get my 8 cups a day.  My daughters one in nursing school, the other a dietician have been after me about the water thing for years.  Most of the time I am spot on.   Unfortunately like most men who can see 60 standing over the toilet has become a favorite past time.   Water adds to this dilemma.  

    Despite the clamoring about our dying infrastructure, America's interstate highway system is the best on the planet.  As a nurse who does the travel thing I spend a ton of time on them.  Besides work there are the latest forays into Far Rockaway to see the love of my life.  A couple of weeks ago the burn to piss thing caught up to me at 1 am.  I got off the Belt Parkway and saw the welcome to Howard Beach sign.  Yep that infamous Howard Beach where a Black man caught in the wrong place got chased by a mob into the Belt parkway.  A car smashed him into pieces.



    Memory serves a Black man well in America.  I recall the names.  Yusef Hawkins, Emmitt Till, Trayvon Martin.  A few days ago a young brother was knocking on doors in my building.  He works for an electric company that promises senior citizens savings on their bills.  The super threatened him with police if she found him here again.  Amadou Diallo a vender assassinated by New York’s finest came to mind.  

    2016 looks like 1956 all over again.  When one trotted down the deep south roadways.  A family had to the know the locations of the color rest rooms and restaurants.  Most of the time when I am on my 8 cup water game on I 90 going towards Albany I got it figured out.  Exit 4 Blanford service plaza.  Next exit 25 miles up the turnpike exit 2 Lee, Mass. last stop on turnpike before New York State.  The route South to NYC along the Merrick and Hutchinson I got that down.  It gets a little tricky once I hit NYC particularly if traffic gets crazy and I am getting my 8 cups in a day as I drive.  Perhaps I should get a urinal.