Bidwell Parkway

They shake their heads and they look at me as if I lost my mind
I tell them there’s no hurry I’m just sitting here doing time
-John Lennon, Watching the Wheels

Over the last two days I spent no money between the milk I bought at Lexington General Store around 1pm on Wednesday and the Steel Reserve I bought just around midnight on Friday night/Saturday morning. More than likely because of the looming work I will have to do to pay rent, and even the likelihood that I will then have a few dollars to spend freely [sic], I almost intuitively turned to the simple pleasures over the last 48-60 hours. Without the slightest self-imposed guilt for not using my time “more constructively,” I have taken a few bikes rides, I have sat on my porch in the sun and eaten lunch and dinner saying “hello” to my passing by neighbors, I watched some TV, generally done nothing but hang out and converse with my friends (about nothing in particular) and even managed to make it back to my favorite place in my known world to read: Bidwell Parkway at the Elmwood Avenue intersection.

In getting there about 4:00pm in July puts one under just enough shade to read without sweating but with enough sunlight to not be made cold by the stiff breeze that was blowing the day I was there. This perfect mix allows me to enjoy the experience even more, for there is no better place in such circumstances to feel at ease in the city. If the Mississippi got Huck wherever he needed, Elmwood does the same for me in Buffalo—all I lack is a pipe and a comrade desiring his freedom as much as I—and Bidwell is the perfect spot to sit on the banks of the river and watch the wheels go by. The breeze; the sun; the foot, pet and car traffic; the sounds of them all in unison—one is equally at ease in the center of things and just far enough outside it to observe it and not feel an overwhelming attachment to whatever the outcome of it all might be.

Over the same time span I’ve spent no money, I’ve also talked to a few people that might be able to help me in my job search. Some have part time labor jobs and one even has an full-time office job that I might be able to get. Not wanting to worry over such an unnecessary stress as finding a job and the process in doing so is what took me to finally, for only the second time since I’ve returned, get back to Bidwell. It is there that I am able to forget about whatever it is that is supposed to be ailing and turning me in every direction except the calm and enjoyable I wish to be turned to.

I know that over the next few days or—Life help me—weeks, I’ll be faced with a decision about office work versus labor jobs. (Well, hopefully, for that means I will at least have found two different jobs.) But until those decisions must absolutely be met, I at least have my Bidwell Parks to alleviate the annoyance and distract me from all the distractions that so easily clutter our days.