March 18, 2026, 2 days until the arrival of spring, though winter is still hanging in there. Cold this morning, and this time last week it was pushing 70 degrees. I was at the main fruit stand today, working mainly with Yancey, with Kimberley jumping in when needed. I was able to get through most of the day with no problem, and Yancey kept making announcements, ‘I have to go and audit this. I need to go audit that.’

But he never left, he never audited. I am coming up on a year at the fruit stand, and let’s face it, things that I was taught last year have fallen by the wayside, mainly because I have not been using these methods or tools as often as needed since the smaller fruit stand where I usually sit does not use those things.

Case in point, one guy drops off about 10 cards that are used to access the fruit stand. They were handed off and I incorrectly thought that the department that creates these cards would be the ones to inform the recipient that their cards were ready. I was uncertain and as I placed the cards in their protective sleeves I put them on the side in each slot just in case.

I saw a young woman who submitted her photo for this card and asked Yancey if I should just email her to let her know her card was ready. Yancey was surprised that I hadn’t done that already and felt that I just put the cards with the rest of the cards waiting to be picked up. He was upset and I tried to reassure him that it was no big deal. I would work off a list of the most recent requests for the past 2 weeks.

Whether or not he thought that such a thing could be done I don’t know since he walked off and I sat and emailed the ten people whose cards I held in my hands. It was really no big deal and when the big hand on the clock hit 12 and the little hand was on 5 I was out the door with Yancey not to be seen at all. He did mention that he needed to leave at 4:50 PM to get his things to the dry cleaners, it was just another announcement from Yancey that went nowhere.

About 44 years ago I worked in this neighborhood. The Statler Hilton Hotel used to be right across the street and HBJ had a division with offices in that building. It was a 2 man job that only had me working on it. I needed to find a parking spot to unload about 40 boxes of law books for the BAR/BRI review, get them on a palette, and get them up to the offices. No one to help as I tried to maneuver the streets.

I made it into the building and then had to wait for the elevator operator to finish their lunch hour and carry me up to these offices. It was not one of my better experiences, and a cockeyed memory from 44 years ago. I don’t think HBJ ever had someone to accompany me on this job, and I was left to do it on my own.

St. Patrick’s Day, 2026. A Tuesday. Not a bad day, but of course, there is a chill in the air. The Irish rarely have good weather for their parade. Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and almost everyone else have good weather. The Irish? Not so much. It’s been a slow morning so far. I’ve been here for 2 very long hours, leaving me with 6 long hours.

Bill returns for a few hours today, according to Bill’s plan. He drops some kids off at the exchange place in Jersey City, parks his bus somewhere for a ride share back to Hoboken for a nap of a few hours. Mike was supposed to be there but I just arranged for a ride share for Mike to head back to his crib.

I keep checking fruit stand requests that should come in, but aren’t at the moment. Bill is parking his car in Jersey City. His charges, his people are ferrying it over to Manhattan, and since he does not have to be anywhere until this evening, he’s going to nap at our apartment. Mike felt Bill would have wanted his time alone so that is why Mike left. Quite noble I would say.

Bill is still in Jersey City so I really can’t say whether or not his plan will come off.

So it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Growing up Irish Catholic, it was a big deal in our house. And going to Catholic school also meant the wearing of the green for the holiday. It was expected of us. There was a green tie that was handed down from Frank to Brian to Me. My mother made corned beef and cabbage but I can’t say I have ever had any. It’s not like my mother would make something special for me, and Mom would always say, ‘I’m not running a diner’ so you ate what was in front of you. But I swear I do not recall having corned beef and cabbage ever.

In high school, I am thinking 1977 I was allowed to head into the city with a high school friend, Paul Hanely to watch the parade. It was cold of course and I was on the lookout for sex though it was not going to happen. After wqatching some the parade Paul and I wandered around midtown and after being sufficiently bored, headed back home on out buses. Paul lived in Hillsdale and I was in Lodi. I never saw him after sophomore year. Maybe freshman year. I did an online search and came up empty handed.

Another St Patick’s Day was with my brother Brian. Our mother allowed us to go to the city for the parade, Brian’s friends joined us. We made it to about 60th Street and Fifth Avenue by Central Park. I was watching kids charge the police inside the park and while that was going on I lost my brother and his friends could care less.

I knew I couldn’t depend on them and wound up walking from 60th and Fifth to 42nd and 8th. In the 1970’s Times Square. I didn’t know enough to be afraid. I made it to the gate for the bus where I found Brian, frightened by the fact my parents would have killed him if he came home without me. He was so relieved he smacked me for losing him and eventually finding him.