This brings back memories. I arrived there March 1980. How time flies. Hi Rob. Good to hear from you. You don’t see much anymore. I’m on the east coast. I was here yesterday. That was my first visit to this site in years and years. And yes, my Dad used to be a police officer in that building too. You remember him? He said that he would see me when he came down from upstairs where the “cops” worked. But he never did. And no one else from my family was there. So it’s just me and the building and the memories. When they moved out, they tore the “hall” (corridor) down. I never got to see it again. The new owners took care of everything and made it pretty, not like it was. What I liked most about the old hall was that it still smelled like “police work.” You know, the hall has been around for a very long time. A long time. And as I was saying to someone, years ago, my dad said they used to put the hall on the top of the hill because of the good views. Well, they did. There were steps going down from there to the street. That was when there was no hill. When I got there, they had a small park next to the hall. And on that park was a huge clock that showed the time of the next few hours until sunset. It was a big dial and it glowed white, with blue hands. And as I said, it was really big. I was in a small black-and-white. So I couldn’t even get close. And right next to that big clock was a small pond with ducks and geese. And it was filled with goldfish. The first time I ever saw any goldfish in a pond. Pretty amazing, huh? The other time I saw a goldfish in a pond, my dad took me there when I was real young. The police clock was really big. Even though I didn’t know what time it was, the hands were out there. There were a lot of people there, standing around that clock. And when I asked my dad why, he said it was a great place for “chit-chatting.” Now that’s what they called “chatting” in those days. And those days were a long time ago. So do you see what I’m getting at? At this point, when I’m thinking about the old hall, it’s as if the clock were still there. It’s as if the clock never disappeared, but it only existed for a little while. But I do remember the hall and I do remember the goldfish pond. That’s how far back it goes. My dad took me there. It was on a Saturday and it was a really big crowd there, more than usual. I don’t remember if it was at that clock or somewhere else. I remember the big clock in front of the police building was always in a certain spot. But the clock disappeared. And the goldfish pond was there for a few years too. I know that’s true. But that clock and that goldfish pond and everything else had a lot of history to them. They faded, but they were still there, even when the building disappeared. I hope I never see the old hall again, but if I did, I’d want to see it and hear it, not because it’s there, but because it’s gone. Oh. I remembered another thing from way back when I went to the old hall with my mom and dad. That big clock. It wasn’t so large then. And people used to come around with a lot of flowers and food to the hall. They’d carry the flowers around. But there were always flower vendors in the hall too. And when I got there, I saw a huge bunch of flowers they must have had left over. And they were all fresh, still wet, and all purple. A lot of them were white and yellow. The kind you use to make arrangements. I kept picking a few flowers at a time and I looked all around and finally I saw an old man in an old coat. He wasn’t a man. He was a kid. And he was just standing there. And I said, “Are you with the band?” And he didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. “Yes, I am,” he said. And I could tell he was real nervous and a little upset. He looked right at me and he even smiled. “It’s a really nice orchestra you’ve got.” And right then he was really in the band, no matter what he was supposed to do. “There are enough flowers already,” I said, and I picked up the biggest bunch and he took it from me. I went on through the hall, not turning around, and I just kept walking and didn’t pay him any more attention. I didn’t even see him anymore. The thing is, he must have been around for a long time. But that time didn’t last long. And I’m thinking now that some parts of my life are like that clock. You know, the time is passing, but that memory is still with me. Just like it’s always been. So far, so good, I guess. And thanks for coming along with me on this long little journey through the past. I’m thinking about that hall and I’m wondering how many other people may be wondering about the same things. Like the old clock. And that big clock with all the time to spare. It would be really nice to see a picture of that building. It would give me a strong memory. A memory to carry with me all the time. Maybe someone else is thinking the same thing. I’m hoping someone is. I have memories, but I’m starting to think I have more of them. I guess some memories fade, while others stick around. And I guess some people are too old, and have forgotten. The past has a lot of memory, but the past keeps forgetting. But I think a lot of things are still stored somewhere inside. I believe that, no matter what. Thanks again for joining me in this exploration of memory. Here we go. Like this: When I started to move forward with this journal, it was a little hesitant. Maybe that’s why it seems to be moving so slowly. I never thought I’d be in the present and thinking about my past. But I am. And I have always felt that thinking about “the past” is always a lot of “what ifs.” And that’s one of the reasons that I haven’t written anything for a long time. But I’m getting older, and I’m learning how to live in the present. Even though I don’t always like my present. Today I’m in the mood to write about some things that happened in my last house. It was an old house on West 43rd Street, in Manhattan. It was an apartment that had been “rented.” Or maybe more like used. The last time I went there was a year ago. It was a year that it had been almost 20 years since I had lived there. That was back when I had first gotten sick, and I had become very thin, and very sick. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a sign that things were going to change. And change they did. And it started with losing the house. I don’t know why I started thinking about this. And I’m sure I have many more memories of the place. But I only know of one memory at this moment. And that’s only because of the picture I took there today. I met someone on the street today who told me that she went to school in that very same building. Well, that school was long gone. But the building still exists. It’s funny, but she was telling me that she went there years ago when she was a kid. That makes me feel like I was really there. But I’m not really sure what she meant. So there you go. Another piece of my past. And maybe it’s for the better. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll bother with these journals much anymore. Maybe once in a while. That would be about it. But that’s okay. It’s all good. Like this: I remember when the people that did things they shouldn’t be doing would get in trouble. They didn’t just get it in the neck. That’s what they called it. When I was a kid, I heard them say “I got in a little trouble.” And that meant a few days off from work. They also said it about the other words, “a little bit.” And they also said it about “an ounce.” “An ounce of marijuana” meant the same thing as “a little bit.” And the last thing they said it about was “an ounce of gold.” And they didn’t