Life After Yu

As the dog days of summer wind down and time accelerates as never before, I will continue to report on mostly unimportant events and non-events leading up to my death. That's a riff, by the way, on my favorite title ever for a memoir: newsman Howard K. Smith's Events Leading Up to My Death.

Anyway, sometimes unhappy news comes when you least expect it or need it. My mailman for the past ten years—Yu—is moving on to bigger and better things. Well, a different route at least in a more prestigious area of apartment buildings. It'll probably be easier on his bad knees. Yu has been climbing up a lot of stairs in a lot of private homes these past ten years. Still, when he told me the news, I felt stunned, like I was losing an old friend. A known-quantity, dedicated mailman is a prize to be cherished. So, is there life after Yu? Only time will tell. And now for some more events and non-events of no particular importance:

No, these aren't the swallows returning to Capistrano. They are Canada Geese on flight from the Van Cortlandt Park flats in the Bronx. After defecating all over the green fields there, they are headed for another bathroom run someplace else.

There's nothing quite like a little Rose of Sharon with a singular flower on it. One that sprouted up from seed in a most rugged piece of earth.

And He thus sayeth, "Let there be another Auto Zone..."

I have an old friend who now comes to a full stop at every Stop sign. It's not that he wants to at long last comply with the minutia of the law. He's in his eighties and relishes making younger drivers angry. But I've heard about enough road rage cases to appreciate that being an old geezer is not sufficient protection from a wayward punch, tossed deadly object, or even a gunshot.

A friend and I were once acquainted with this fellow nicknamed "Bug." He was actually an annoying little weasel. But in his memory we regularly take pictures of small objects and designate them "Bug" things. This is Bug's easy chair.

In three months this tree will be festooned with Christmas lights.

How did these two gloves get here? What's their back story?

"And when the country was falling apart, Betsy Ross got it all sewed up!"

It's the George Washington. What would George Washington say? 

I have a new hobby. I take pictures of people taking selfies.

Get the stick...

Bug's bicycles...

Spotted these two tourists not taking selfies. An unsolicited word of advice in these crazy times: Why walk around with a target on your chest when you don't have to?

If this was a three-hour tour, these five passengers better pray that the weather doesn't start getting rough...

Is there a better place to meditate than a New York City subway car? Probably.

"A Beach Vacation WITHOUT AIRPORT SECURITY" the subway ad reads. And it's only a Lyft—or subway—ride away! Ocean beachfront in the borough of Queens and I've never been there and probably never will be. That ship has sailed. 

Mystery lady checking her smartphone. Why am I thinking about Billy Ocean?

Today was a 3-H day: hazy, hot, and humid...

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)