Paper Trail

Sitting in Starbucks with my usual small, or should I say "tall" cappuccino, and thinking about writing something in the small notebook that I carry, I found a small, folded piece of paper tucked inside the back cover. Its contents can be summarized thus: The Cheesecake Factory. Table 13. #Party 2. Dated February 20th, 2010. To be precise, 12.19 p.m.

It was a receipt, nearly a year old, from a day when Kate and I spent a time at the Smith Haven Mall, shopping. Well, let me re-write that last sentence. She excelled in shopping, and I excelled in migrating between armchairs, occasionally drinking coffee, reading, and dreaming of a world where corporate retail stores were truly interesting.

The discovery (or was it re-emergence?) of that receipt was a thoughtful moment in itself, as I spent a few minutes trying to recall that day. What stores had we visited? What had we, sorry, she bought? What did we have for lunch? That was easy. We had Cuban sandwiches. What was the weather that day? Was the sun shining? (Who knows, but that is the point of a mall, isn't it? To shield the shopper from environmental reality.) So many thoughts, and happy memories.

From time to time I clean out my wallet and sift through countless such thin pieces of paper. Receipts, mostly extremely boring. Supermarket: Milk, pasta, sausage, tea, bread, lettuce. Hardware store: Glue, paint, floor cleaner. Staples: Printer paper. Is there anything stimulating, provoking or suggestive there? Of course not! But now and then one of those small often crumpled, pieces of paper will emerge from a forgotten pocket or wallet fold. And a happy, human, memory is created by these computer generated printouts. A specific occasion and purchase. A special meal, or coffee, or drink, or calendar. Perhaps I should keep these receipts. Actually I do.

Sad Partings.

There is an empty shop on Main Street. Yesterday I watched as men wearing overalls and carrying clipboards and toolbags moved around inside, pointing to various corners and nodding. They stood where the table carrying five-year-old copies of National Geographic and AutoCar had stood. They pointed to the space where two adjustable, worn upholstered chairs had held countless thousands in their turn. And to the rear door, around which the hot shaving cream dispenser had been hidden.

For Leo has eventually packed up his scissors and razors and left. An unwelcome and enforced retirement, but how can a barber compete with the greed and intentions of those who wish to maximize the profits made on their building. You see, it's easier to cite market forces than it is to cut a perfect sideburn.

Thank you, Leo, for years of haircuts and conversation. A cut above the rest.

A Winter's Wednesday's musings

And it certainly was. The forecast snow arrived early. Too early for some, as by 9.00 people were calling me to make travel excuses because they simply couldn't make their appointments. I gazed out of my window at the mediocre flakes, and offered a prayer of thanks for a window of opportunity to go to Cittarella for a mug of fresh French Roast coffee. Thankfully Shawn Phillips from Episcopal Charities Long Island was made of sterner stuff, and we enjoyed a delightful meeting, laughing off those who find any excuse not to meet and commit to good causes - of which there are many.

School pick-up at noon. Icy, treacherous roads. Great cappuccino at Borders. Delicious sandwiches to go at Subway, Riverhead, made by a delightful, smiling Bangladeshi women of whom we could not understand a word!

Late afternoon fire in the hearth. Much email and Facebook communications for fun. Delicious dinner. Great episode of MI5 on DVD. Embers still glowing. I have reversed the car onto the end of the driveway, but as it struggled to cross the existing ice and snow at the edge of the road I worry about the storm to come.

And come it will, after midnight.

A 7.00 a.m. rainbow

A cheering sight on a wet, lack-luster morning...