9 PM. It hit 100° today, but I just took a walk on the boardwalk, and there’s a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean, although it’s still very muggy.
But all in all, with the windows wide open, this is one of the most comfortable places I could be – except for Los Angeles, where it was only in the 70°s. (I hadn’t realized Southern California summers were milder than New York’s.)
Last evening I took the new Brooklyn phone book, which I put in my bag when I saw stacks of them near Elihu’s elevator. I’ve been looking up people: old friends, neighbors, acquaintances.
I noticed a Vito Panzer no, “arty,” on Clark Street, and when I phoned the number, there was Vito’s familiar voice on the machine. I’m glad to know he’s still alive.
I spent the evening with the news shows, from NPR’s
All Things Considered to the network newscasts and
PBS roundtables. Bush is in his element now that he’s out of the country, announcing a START treaty to reduce missiles with Gorbachev, who got support but no cash from the G-7 leaders in London.
Secretary Baker got the Saudis and Syrians to agree to talk with Israel, and Bush is in Greece and Turkey
now, hinting at U.S. help in solving their dispute over Cyprus.
Bush really should be President of the World, not of the U.S.; our domestic problems bore him or are too difficult to deal with or require money we don’t have. With his usual demagoguery, he’ll manage to get people to vote for him and against their own best interests next year.
The likely Democratic field – I discount Tsongas, the only current candidate – includes Governor Clinton and Senators Rockefeller, Harkin and possibly Gore, none of whom have much support or are well-known, and the race is starting very late. Actually, the
Democrats should go back to nominating their candidates in smoke-filled rooms.
Despite the heat, I went to see Grandma Ethel this morning, and of course today would be the one time I didn’t get an air-conditioned bus. Grandma said I looked flushed, and actually, I felt kind of sick by the time I got to Woodmere.
If anything, going out today made me even gladder I didn’t go to Justin’s yesterday. At the home, they made certain all the residents had their windows shut and air conditioners on because of the ozone alert as well as the heat wave.
Grandma complained about her bitter taste and I clucked sympathetically and of course she exclaimed, “How expensive!” when I told her what my haircut cost. (The next time she asks, I think I’ll give her a ridiculously low figure like five dollars and see if she still goes, “How expensive!”).
I said she should tell Marty not to worry, that Mom isn’t coming to get rid of the apartment, and I called Grandma over to the bathroom window, where the pigeon family has been nesting for weeks.
Through the glass we could see the father bird fly home and feed the two babies by the old back-to-back regurgitation method. From Teresa’s house, I know July is usually the month in which pigeons hatch. When I got home, at 1 PM, I wasn’t going anywhere for the rest of the day, at least not until my walk an hour ago. I ate frozen veggies rather than go to the Koreans’ for a salad bar, and I spent the afternoon reading the Times (the arts and leisure, book review and magazine sections come on Saturdays) and watching junk TV.
This evening I phoned Florida, mostly to wish Dad a happy 65th birthday tomorrow, when he’ll be at the
menswear show all day. He said he doesn’t even want to think about it, which is the way Dad always deals with everything troubling: by ignoring its existence.
Mom said the apartment is ready, and I think my Gainesville address will be 334 NW 17th Street #342,
Gainesville, FL, 32603. I changed my flight to 8 AM on Monday, August 5, two weeks and one day from now. Mom said we can go up on the Wednesday after I arrive in Fort Lauderdale, which gives me a week in Gainesville before law school begins. I told Mom I might have to drop out after one term because of lack of funds but made sure that she understands that whatever happens, I’ll handle it on my own. Perhaps my going to law school is as half- assed an idea as my trying to start grad school at the University of Miami’s Ph.D. in English program eight years ago.
But I no longer believe in making mistakes – that is, the notion that one course of action could be a
“mistake” doesn’t seem possible. Gainesville will be the first time I’m really on my own, and although I am terrified, I know getting through the bad times will make me stronger and more experienced and resourceful.
If I intend to live abroad one day, I’ve got to start somewhere in a place where I have no family, friends or familiarity. Is this “sink or swim”? Perhaps I can’t swim, but I expect that if pressed, I’ll stay afloat somehow. It’s sort of a test for me. At age 40, I’m finally taking risks.