Coffee at McDonald's

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Intro:

In early November, 1992, James P. is an (almost) 59 year old (although he looks much older) “gringo” resident of Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico (a border town across the Rio Grande River from Brownsville, Texas). Originally from New York state, he comes nearly every weekday to the McDonald’s adjacent to The University of Texas at Brownsville to sit for a while, sipping the 81 cent “senior coffee” (which comes with refills). He reads his mail (picked up from the Mail Plus building on nearby Jefferson Street). His mail consists entirely of offers of miracle cures and easy money.

James (Jimmy to his friends/acquaintances) has prostate cancer. He lives on a paltry SSI monthly payment, and he depends on Medicaid for his health care. A life-long homosexual with continuing wishes (acknowledged as an impossible pipe dream) to “transition” to the female gender – he thinks "ugly old women are treated better than ugly old men". He lives in Matamoros for economic reasons, in a cheap small “apartment” on Calle Once (11th street) near the Plaza Allende. He shares his “apartment” with his 21 cats. The cats, and his aversion to regular house cleaning, insure extreme unhygienic conditions. The place is filthy and reeks of cat urine and feces.

Jimmy imagines that his Spanish is good enough to serve his needs, but it is terrible. He is only able to be somewhat/imperfectly understood by a few locals who know virtually no English but, through long association and the interpretation of signs, gestures, and other actions they are able to puzzle out what he may be attempting to say. Nevertheless, since he fancies himself an accomplished speaker of English, he has ventured to advertise himself through word-of-mouth as an English instructor and he has managed, on occasion and at least for short periods of time, to attract a few “students”.

Jimmy’s frequent appearances in McDonald’s have somewhat inured the workers there. They have simply noted that he has been mistaken often, by other customers, as one of the homeless street people who occasionally come in to use the bathroom or to panhandle a burger or a drink. He rummages through the dumpsters in the downtown Brownsville alleys behind restaurants and other businesses and he retrieves used clothing and food which he takes back to Matamoros for his own use or to feed his cats. On more than a few occasions, while he was dumpster diving, generous passers-by have given him money, unasked. Jimmy tells of these lucky occasions with relish.

Robert and I met Jimmy a couple of years ago when we were having a night out with Jack (our Norwegian-American friend) in Matamoros at a raucous and seedy bar near the Plaza Allende. Jimmy was there, having a beer. He quickly identified the three of us as being “American” and came over to talk with us (and also to be treated to a few free drinks.) From then on, he has been a frequent contact/”friend” who does not hesitate to call upon us when he wishes/needs to do so.

I visit Jimmy at McDonald’s frequently in the afternoon since I have been unemployed for several months and have not yet been able to find a new job.

At McDonald’s, we drink our senior coffees (he pays with my money and I enjoy the cheaper senior price when he is with me) and we watch the customers, many of whom are students at the adjacent college. He tells me about his “adventures” in Brownsville and Matamoros and about the latest offerings in his mail, especially those which guarantee an income of $100K per month, should he only agree to participate in their “program” by sending a requisite contribution of a specified amount (which he, despite his penury, frequently does.) Alas, he never receives the promised return on investment; indeed, he never hears from the advertisers again. Still, undiscouraged, he dreams of the day when he will be rich and he never stops trying.

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Miscellaneous diary/personal "log" sketchy entries:

November 11, 1992 – Veteran’s Day

A grey afternoon at 3:30 p.m.

I am at the Oliveira Library on the UTB/TSC (University of Texas Brownsville/Texas Southmost College) campus, a block from the McDonald’s on International Boulevard. I have just spent an hour and a half upstairs, leafing through A Day in the Life of America which someone has defaced with obscene drawings and which would probably immediately be removed from the shelves if that fact were reported to the library staff….I also leafed through a 1950 book, Paris – mainly old, brownish photos of Paris from 1944 to 1950. There have been few interesting people or faces here and virtually no one to talk to.

Jimmy is nowhere around and if he does cross the river he will probably come too late for me to be able to spend any time talking with him. Earlier, I went to the main post office to drop a couple of envelopes (house mortgage payment, telephone long-distance bill payment).

Although Jack (specifically and correctly Johannes), another friend in the same age group, came back from his yearly stay in Norway (he arrived last Friday), he very probably is not interested this soon in any activities which include me or Jimmy – although we have, already, gone all together to the little arts & crafts show yesterday at the Jacob Brown Auditorium.

November 12, 1992, 6:10 p.m.

At the Library.

I have been upstairs at the college library, leafing through a few volumes of photographs (over-sized books.) I skimmed through 150 Years of America, then The Tsar’s Photographs, and a couple of others. All were fairly interesting. I did not decide to check out anything to take home. I have enough already at home to occupy myself.

I found nothing in the newspaper relating to available job openings.

I was disturbed a little after 5:00 p.m. by loud/many sirens outside, either police or fire department equipment noises. As I get older, the sounds of sirens bother me more and I can’t help thinking that one day, if not today, they will be wailing away over some incident that involves me or someone I care for.

Although it is early evening, it is already quite dark outside (I’ve come down to ground level where there are a lot of glass windows/walls.)

I have been considering a few corrections to a couple of recent short stories. I’m dissatisfied with the changes I have already made, per Jack’s suggestions. I may undo them all.

Joe T. (a friend of Robert and me) is working the 3-11 shift at Norton tonight and then the 12-7 shift at the Economy convenience store. Although the two jobs are good for him from the standpoint of earnings (and he IS very young), over the long term I don’t think he can or should continue working both jobs.

Jack is not answering his phone. He probably went to visit our mutual friend (and Robert’s and my former landlady), Erna, in Weslaco. After Erna’s husband, Bud, died a few years ago she moved from Brownsville to Donna and then later to a retirement high-rise in Weslaco. Erna and Bud came to the Valley from South Dakota and are/were of Scandinavian/Norwegian heritage, like Jack, who is a dual Norwegian and U.S. citizen. Jack spends half the year in Brownsville (the winter months) and the other half in Bergen where he owns an apartment.

Jimmy, speaking with me on the phone, did confirm that Jack is in Weslaco with Erna. Although I told Jack I would like to go with him when he visits Erna since I’m still not working, he obviously forgot or thought it would be better for him to go alone – probably the latter – since he is determined always to do exactly what he wishes without interference. No matter. Maybe Erna prefers it that way, too.

(Earlier the same day: November 12, 1992:)

Yesterday was both Veteran’s Day and Evangeline’s birthday (Robert’s older sister.) President Clinton made a few televised remarks in re the military that to me seemed especially heartening. A navy petty officer who had been discharged for being gay was reinstated, at least for now, and Clinton reinforced his intention to open the military to gays. (Knowing, of course, that the military has always already been “open to gays”, although not “openly” so.) Maybe, at last, the U.S. will start the process (like much of the rest of the world has already done) of eliminating that type of discrimination. He, Clinton, also announced his intention to open flying and battlefield service jobs to women. EVERYONE should be allowed to serve to the limits of their abilities!

Tomorrow is November 13, a Friday. Let’s hope that it will be a quiet, productive, and safe day. Robert was bothered yesterday that he was unable to do more about Evangeline’s birthday than to call her to talk for a while (she is in Chicago.) I felt bad about not being able to help him. Maybe I should suggest that he thinks about a trip to visit. I would enjoy going also.

Tuesday, November 17, 1992, 3:50 p.m.

McDonald’s, International Boulevard, near UTB

I have been here about an hour, having coffee, after dropping Joe T. at work (Norton, near the airport). I tried calling Jack when I got here, but no answer – possibly he decided to check out the “free feast” being sponsored by HEB at the Jacob Brown Auditorium just a couple of blocks from here toward Gateway Bridge and then went home stuffed and ready for an extended nap.. About 15,000 people were expected for a turkey dinner prior to Thanksgiving. Also I sort of expected Jimmy to either come here or to call, since he did neither yesterday (Monday), and today is one of his usual days of the week to go to the plasma center to donate (he goes twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, and makes $80.00 a month.) But, he didn’t show up and now it’s too late because he should already be “donating” and it takes about an hour to an hour and a half and they close at five.

Business at this McDonald’s has been fairly steady, but not heavy. It is probably the least busy McDonald’s in town. I briefly observed a teacher from the college having a conversation with a freshman student from Matamoros; but until now there has been no really diverting/interesting visitors to watch nor conversations to overhear. I will decide in the next few minutes whether to try to reach Jack again – probably not. I may walk over to the library for an hour or two, to check their new arrivals and/or to check out a couple of books (on writing or poetry.) Their selection of current poetry and new poets is extremely limited, almost non-existent.

I received, today, a letter from Richard McA, who is in Las Cruces, NM. He has suggested either a trip, by me, up there, or a week down here for him – also, he wrote a little more about the possibility of a trip to Mexico for a writers’ conference which we would sponsor as members/directors of The Writers' Group of Brownsville – possibly in Mexico City, Oaxaca, or Puerto Escondido – much like the one we did last year in Melaque. He included in his letter a map of Puerto Escondido, showing locations of hotels and restaurants. I will look the place up in my Lets Go Mexico guide. It sounds interesting. If I can possibly arrange it, it would be something I think I would really like to do. He also suggested that maybe Jack would like to make the trip with me. I wonder if I should mention it to him.

Richard also included a couple of pictures (his New Mexico apricot trees in his Las Cruces back yard; Wall Lake, at 7,000 ft elevation; the headwaters of the Gila River; and his wife, Flo, with a new dog, Alec, a Bichon-Frisee that he says “speaks only French.” He also asked when he will receive the edited copy of my “Sierra Blanca” and he mentioned that NYC garbage is currently being shipped there (to Sierra Blanca, that is…) But the letter, overall, is low key, non-pressuring and understanding. Richard is a good friend.

I will now leave McD’s and try Jack’s number again, then go to the “biblioteca” for a while.

… I called Jack’s condo and he didn’t answer so I dialed our house and talked with Robert. There had been no calls for me, but while we spoke there was an incoming call to the house from Jimmy. Since I have some stamps which he asked me for with me, I will wait for him in the library. He is at the plasma center, having just arrived. Robert relayed the message to him for me.

The library, upstairs, is fairly full but also quite noisy; there is one group at the other side of this large room and they are being particularly loud and obnoxious. Low-pitched/soft conversation is ok, but whistling to someone and yelling his name across the room is not.

Jimmy finally arrived at 6:20 p.m.

Thursday, November 19, 1992; 2 p.m.; Home

I am waiting for Robert to come. He called a few minutes ago to say he will come to pick up Joe T. to take him to work at Norton. (Joe has been staying in the camper we have parked in our back yard.) Joe had only a few hours of sleep this morning, having worked at the Economy convenience store from 12 a.m. to 7 a.m. after getting off at 11:30 p.m. from his job at Norton.

Yesterday afternoon Jimmy and I met at McD’s for coffee; Jack was called and he came over, also – he had a “happy meal” and I got the toy, neatly wrapped in cellophane…I guess I can give it to Julio for his kids or to Joe A. for his when they get back to Brownsville later this year (they are working the crops in Michigan: Kent City, Michigan.)

Jack brought me a travel brochure on Bergen ("Bergen Guide 92 – Bergen, the Gateway to the Fjords".) It’s kind of interesting, with maps, pictures, and advertisements.

Jimmy had also received a letter from his whacko acquaintance Gordon T., who lives at the Hotel Madrid (a fleabag hotel) in Matamoros. His (Gordon T.’s) writing style is psychotic and reminds me of William S. Burroughs (The Naked Lunch, etc.) In the letter he had written a fairly cute rambling note, ostensibly to a podiatrist, filled with references to feet – a pretty “punny” short piece, for which I expressed to Jimmy an interest, perhaps, in possibly using it in Boca Chica; hopefully, Jimmy will approach him for me, as I’ve never met the man (nor do I think I would like to do so.)

Jimmy confirms that on the 17^th, both Jimmy and Jack went to the free “Feast of Sharing” sponsored by H.E.B. and others (a pre-Thanksgiving free turkey dinner). They both ate 2 meals apiece and estimated that only about 10K of the expected 15K people had shown up. While there, they saw and approached, briefly, a Bulgarian man, whom Jimmy had been told about previously at the Good Neighbor Settlement House. This man was, at the dinner, fully clothed and wearing sweaters and a couple of jackets, assuming some body-builder’s poses right outside the Jacob Brown Auditorium while talking to himself. Jack and Jimmy tried to engage him in conversation, asking whether he spoke English, or Spanish, or Norwegian, or German, or French, etc. But he replied in perfect English that he only spoke Bulgarian and Russian and he didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation. We saw him, through the McD's windows, walking toward the college a few minutes ago, probably heading for the library, which is air conditioned, has comfortable chairs, and clean bathrooms.

Jimmy had an appointment with David (?) yesterday afternoon (someone new?) and Jack had spent part of the day with his binoculars at Hope Park (on the river levee near the Gateway Bridge and the Rio Grande). He said he saw more than 40 people cross the river (not over the bridge, but through the water – illegally!) in a very short time – a kind of new record for this cold-water time of the year.

January 21, 1993; at home

Maxine’s birthday (my sister, who passed away in 1977) is approaching and, although I almost never gave much thought to such days before, I now am unusually aware of such markers. Georgia (another sister) evidently was not at home to answer my calls yesterday nor the day before – she was probably busy going with Alice (our other sister) to her radiation treatment/chemotherapy in Lafayette.

Lafayette (and Louisiana) now have changed associations for me, different from previous ones. Now I chiefly associate it with trips to doctors and various medical centers; previously it meant food, nice trees, swampy landscapes, and U.S.L.

I talked with David Z. at a paper bag manufacturing company at the Port of Brownsville at midday, as a follow-up to a previous interview. He said that the position has not yet been filled and that I am still being considered. I also called Terry B. at Eaton/Condura but was only able to leave a message on a voice mail machine that informed me that he would be out until January 25.

I have been reviewing some of my poems and now have the impression that at least a few of them are not totally without merit. The frustrating thing is, particularly at this point in my life, there is no one around who can render a competent judgment – and, of course, I seem now to be in great need of validation and, perhaps, an ego boost.

Over the last few days I have behaved forcefully and boorishly to Jack and also to Jimmy – generally being disagreeable and stating opinions at odds with theirs in re Clinton’s inauguration address and Maya Angelou’s poem “A Stone, A River, A tree”, which was written specifically for the inauguration and read by her at the ceremony (I taped it.)

I was not taken with her performance nor was I particularly impressed with her poem, although Jack seemed enthralled by both.

Clinton’s address was, to me, generally ok, but about ¾ of the way through I thought it began to fail and to depart from areas of specific concern, becoming filled with grandiose and meaningless catchphrases. It also seemed graceless, in a few instances, for him to dwell so heavily on the previous administration’s failures while President Bush sat next to him. Relatively minor changes in wording could have made those parts of his speech somewhat more positive and certainly a lot more charitable. But then, what do I know? I’m down in the dumps and that certainly has had an effect on my current mood and behavior.

Two days ago The Brownsville Herald printed an item stating that Hattie Babbit (the daughter of Harriet, who is a member of our writers' group, and the author of "Gardening In The Lower Rio Grande Valley" and a couple of other things) is being considered as the new ambassador to the O.A.S. possibly because she is fluent in Spanish, familiar with latin culture, and the wife of Bruce Babbit, former governor of Arizona. She may be a good choice, especially if her husband is confirmed as Secretary of the Interior (he may already be confirmed? – I haven’t really kept up with the senate confirmation hearings, except for those concerning Enrique Pena, Henry Cisneros, Les Aspin, Ron Brown, and Zoe Band.)

I thought I might be able to line out a few thoughts/words/ideas for a new poem today, but my efforts have been directed toward other things and I haven’t even started. Also, I need to pin down Georgia (sister), Debbie (niece), Luanna (sister-in-law), to determine whether they will or will not make a trip from Louisiana to Brownsville this month as Georgia had previously advised. It is beginning to seem doubtful to me.

I would like to go to Louisiana for a short (2-3 days) visit, just to touch base and to see my sisters and to visit my mother’s grave. Also, I’d like to take a weekend in Monterrey (Mx), all alone – I went last time with Jimmy and it was both too expensive (I had to pay for everything) and I didn’t really do the things I would have preferred….Robert is an ideal traveling companion, except he rushes too much and tries to do too much with the too little time we usually have.

January 27, 1993; 1:30 p.m. at McD’s

A beautiful, bright day in the 60’s

Having just finished eating a Quarter-Pounder I am now finishing coffee. I didn’t really want the sandwich and, considering my weight and my health, I should not have eaten it. I feel quite uncomfortable sitting here, taking a small booth, without spending some money – although there is no pressing demand for this space because the restaurant is far from crowded. I have been watching people, specifically a group of three: two young men and a girl, obviously students at the college (right age, all carrying text books). Mildly interesting, the boys are very tall. One of them, with a severe case of acne, has a long, equine face and nose and has a goatee, a la Gilligan; he seems not to belong to this era. The other boy is ordinary enough, a nervous type who gets up at least once every three minutes to get something – more soda, napkins, water, etc. The girl is pretty, quiet, and probably not someone who spends much time with these two boys. They eat and leave.

I will go to the library in a few minutes, after I call home to check for messages.

The thought crossed my mind a few minutes ago: What, really, am I hiding from today? What should I be doing that would be a profitable and logical use of my time? I haven’t yet arrived at an answer.

Richard McA. has sent me another tape of famous poets (and members of the Royal Shakespearian Company) reading some of their poems, among which he has mixed in his own readings of some of my poems, some of which have appeared in Boca Chica.

Also, I must call Betty R., group treasurer. It is hard to do anything with Boca Chica through a committee/consensus arrangement, since Betty is in Harlingen and Richard is in New Mexico. Besides, I haven’t had much incentive lately.

I will check at the library for the 1990 edition of The Best American Short Stories which, in their listing of "little literary magazines", includes Boca Chica; also for the Guide to Texas Writers’ & Markets put out by the University of North Texas, which lists both the Brownsville Writers’ Group and Boca Chica, as does the Texas Writers’ Association and The Austin Writers’ League.

January 27, 1993; 3:45p.m.

The TV news reports of yesterday, last night, and this morning, have focused strongly on President Clinton’s pledge to open the military to gays. This has prompted several “on the street” interviews of Valley residents to gauge local opinion. Surprisingly, of 5 people interviewed, four (including 2 women) thought it was the right thing to do – but one (a male) thought that “the military is a man’s place; only real men belong there.” Even more surprisingly, an interview conducted with a local military recruiter indicated that he thought opening the military to gays was the right thing and, in his opinion, would cause no problems.

Last night, on the regular show on NBC hosted by Maria Shriver (a news/interview show), the whole show was devoted to the question of gays/lesbians and societal attitudes toward them. It was a positive show, in a somewhat carping manner, with some equivocating. Reaction on the part of right-wing ultra-conservatives and the religious “lunatic fringe”, as well as the “old guard” (read: OLD), some military leadership (old and less progressive generals, et al), has been rabidly negative. But gay people interviewed expressed solid and growing conviction that the military WILL be opened and that gays eventually will enjoy federally-mandated equality (especially in the areas of housing and the workplace) and legally sanctioned spousal partnerships with rights to spousal benefits, tax advantages, and inheritance rights; also discussed was repealing state laws against consensual sex acts between adults, the right to privacy, and equal protection under the law. These items do not, as many opponents declare, “give homosexuals special privileges” – merely equal treatment and they are every bit as valid civil rights issues as any that have been faced previously. The final days of this week should be interesting – we should learn whether Clinton will live up to his promises or will hedge to avoid the confrontations that could result from taking a resolute stance.

January 29, 1993; McD’s…

Nice, warm though cloudy day

I left the house about 11:40 a.m. to check art supplies at E. Studios, on Elizabeth Street. I was surprised to discover that they stock the largest assortment and quantity of artists’ supplies I have yet seen in the Valley, although there might be more available at places in McAllen or some of the upper Valley towns. Prices are very similar to those at the craft place in Harlingen. Pallets and easels are available and relatively reasonable – tubes of oil, gesso, gouache, acrylics, pastels, painting knives, canvases, sketch pads, pencils, brushes, thinners, mediums, color wheels, and instruction books are also available. Easels (wood) range from $15 to $45. WalMart has collapsible aluminum easels for $13. After checking prices, buying nothing, I came to McD’s for coffee.

February 1, 1993; McD’s

Rather gray; warm day

I was up early, made my bed, paid bills: Exxon, RGV Gas, TCI Cablevision, Dillard’s, Discover Card. After showering and shaving, I stopped at Maverick Market to put air in a rear tire of the white car. Jimmy had called and I met him at the Gateway bridge then dropped him off at the old downtown post office. He is on his way to the plasma center for his regular Tuesday “donation” (he will be paid $8). Then I drove to Sam’s Club to buy toothpaste for Robert (they didn’t have the right kind).

I checked with Robert for messages (there were none). Then I went to the All State Insurance office to pay car insurance premiums.

This morning I had a call I missed from Snelling Personnel Services in McAllen – from “Carmela” . I returned the call. They are looking for someone for a “planner” position at Anderson-Greenwood in Harlingen. I told them I had already interviewed there and I gave them a list of places I have already talked with. My “file” will be reactivated (?) and “they will call me if they find any openings that fit my qualifications.” I won’t hold my breath.

After paying car insurance, I went to the Cameron County Courthouse to get license plate stickers for the white car. I had to wait in line (even at a drive up window).

At last I came to McD’s for a coke. I will go from here to check at H.E.B. or Drug Emporium for the toothpaste for Robert.

The second (tomorrow) is Groundhog Day. (Dave K. at All State gave me a new scenic calendar with the dates of interest indicated in appropriate squares.) The second will also be the 23^rd anniversary (and the beginning of the 24^th year) of my relationship with Robert. I don’t anticipate that we will do anything out of the ordinary and I would be surprised if anyone, including Robert, remembers or cares enough about it to do anything.

I am scheduled to go to the T.E.C. (Texas Employment Commission) tomorrow (my appointment is for 1 p.m.) so they can determine whether my benefits will be extended or not. If not, then I will be one of the “hard core” unemployed and I will no longer receive anything from the government. Middle management jobs are becoming scarcer now. Terry B. at Eaton Corp. called back this morning to let me know that they have already hired someone for the job I interviewed for.

The 13^th is Georgia’s birthday and the 14^th is Valentine’s Day.

My plans for the rest of the day: try not to become too depressed; finish recording me reading the 50 poems that I started recording yesterday; get an anniversary card for Robert when I stop to look for toothpaste (also, a Valentine-shaped box of chocolates); try to assess my local job chances and start a more aggressive and geographically wider search with lower salary expectations if necessary. And think about whether I would take just any kind of job with just any kind of requirements at all. Also: write more, work with computer more, keep in touch more with more friends, exercise more, eat less, read more, eliminate stress, try to be more interesting and upbeat, value myself more. Get some new clothes. (JC Penny?)

February 3 1993; 10:53 a.m; McD’s

Rainy day; 72 degrees/warm

Yesterday was Ground Hog Day. According to WGN TV/Chicago, an early Spring is expected. And it was Anniversary #23. I bought a card and a box of chocolates (Russell Stover, 24 oz.) at the Mail Box on Price Road, where I stopped to make copies of my resume and of some letters to accompany them and I mailed some of them. I went to my 1 p.m. TEC appointment, dreading the end of benefits. I was told, after waiting in line 45 minutes, that the TEC had made an error. I should come back, instead, NEXT Tuesday (February 9^th), when they will file for an extension for me (ALL my benefits must first be exhausted). From then on requirements will be 2 job contacts per week instead of one. In re the anniversary: we went to the mall where I bought 2 CD’s (Edith Piaf – old – and Paloma San Basilio) and 2 books . Robert bought 3 shirts at K-Mart (white, to use as a uniform jacket replacement) because Sears refused to order jackets for him even though he was willing to pay for them immediately. A new policy is that all orders taken over the phone from their stores by that particular provider must be paid by credit card, not cash. He could have paid with a Discover Card, but he was pissed and didn’t want to. He went instead to K-Mart. No wonder Sears is troubled financially these days!

We went out to eat (me, Robert, and Raul) at Los Dos Fronteras on Boca Chica Blvd. Robert and Raul had tampiquenas and I had a T-bone. We also had queso flameado and guacamole, both of which we liked. The tampiquenas were much better than my steak. After dinner we went to a movie (Dr. Giggles – a silly chop-em-up horror thing), then home. I talked with Jack on the phone. He had not heard from Jimmy (who had gone to Reynosa), so I didn’t find out whether Jimmy had already come back although, when Robert went out to care for his last patient of the day, Raul, who rode along with Robert, said he had seen Jimmy walking across the bridge to Matamoros. So he probably came back yesterday, if he actually went at all.

Joe T. came by the house late – a little after midnight – having finished work. He picked up his accumulation of mail (mostly W-2 forms). I worked a little on my 1992 income taxes and decided I owe the IRS around $1250…I will wait to file at the last moment, like the last 2 years. Robert is still missing one form so I couldn’t complete his tax package.

Today (Feb. 3^rd) I got up early (6:30 a.m.), took a picnic pork roast out of the freezer to defrost (for tonight), made my bed, moved clean wet clothes from the washing machine into the dryer and when they were dry hung them up. Then I looked through the books I bought yesterday afternoon.

I had coffee and a grapefruit at home, got bored, and decided to take my notebook and go to McD’s and then perhaps to the library. I left a message on the machine for Robert. I will call in again later to check in.

February 8, 1993; 3:15 p.m.; McD’s

A bright, partly cloudy, 72 degree day

This morning I interviewed at Trico, having received a call from them on Friday making this appointment. The interview lasted from 7:45a.m. to 12:15 p.m., for a “planner” position. I talked with a blonde lady (Linda M.? Anne P.?) who is the head of personnel, then to a master scheduler (Gary), then to Keith B. (manager of production planning), then to Martin K. (the plant manager), then to a red-headed man with a mustache (whose name I don’t remember) -- the corporate director of materials. All seemed to go well. Everyone was friendly and supportive and expressed being impressed with my resume and my previous experience and credentials. I was told that I would know by the end of the week, since they wanted to move fast in filling the position. No mention was made of money.

February 9, 1993; 1:50 p.m.; McD’s

A bright, warm, windy 80 degree day

I have just come from my appointment at the T.E.C. where they made me wait until 1:00 p.m.. There is a prominently displayed new sign: “Limited service between 12 noon and 1:00 p.m.” But the process went fairly quickly once 1:00 p.m. arrived. My last regular claim form was accepted and I was told that I should receive in the mail sometime this week a different form for extended unemployment benefits (which are federally funded). 2 job searches each week, on different days, will be required. If the form does not arrive, I was told to return at 1:00 p.m. on Thursday, the 18^th of February and they would give me one.

The extended benefits will be $231/week. I only need to answer two questions on the form and then bring it in to the T.E.C. office. Another minor partial reprieve.

At McD’s I have had a milk shake and, a little later, a coffee while I read “Silver Water” a short story by Amy Bloom. The story is emotionally disturbing, clear, concise. It is about the narrator’s sister -- a schizophrenic -- with a glorious voice, like “silver water.” The story ends with the death of the sister, by suicide, to free the rest of the family from the burden she knows she has become. I felt quite keenly some similarity with my own current situation. This would usually not be “my kind” of story, but it was well-executed and I will not disparage it at this time.

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End note: Here is a "remembrance" of Jimmy, who died in 2014 just a few days short of his 80th birthday:

Jimmy, El Nopalero

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2014

Nopalero = one who deals with/sells nopales [edible prickly pear cactus leafs/pads]

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