07/09/09 - posted by candis smyk hurlbut
Ah, yes, jb, we ate all sorts of unhealthy food, never sat in an approved infant/child seat, let alone used seat belts, and if we broke a toy and cut our hand, we were in trouble...how did we live to age 10, I often wonder, before there were laws to protect us from these dangerous situations. When we lived on Tenth Avenue and traded at the 828 Irving Market (still there, but revised), the butchers liked me. For some reason butchers--now "meat cutters"--always like me. The 828 guys called me Butterball (and I was soooo thin back then) and Rosebud. Now, everyone would think something creepy of men over 40 greeting a 10 year old that way,as well as NO! free anything...bottom line for corporations means an extra 1/2 cent cuts profit...if the kid is sick within the next six months: Law Suit!...if the vegetarian parents aren't there, and you gave meat...if the kid is eating the treat on the way home and trips on a sidewalk crack, more law suits!

You wanted an update? No response. At all. My long ago ticket taker may be waiting for me at the Gates of Heaven, at which point, I have no problem. Or, he may be reading this and trembling with horror, hoping no one associates him with the free entries of so many years ago. I've had a good time considering all the possiblities, but since I didn't expect much--a very long shot--I'm not heartbroken. This brings up another point. Not too long before Roy died (and I wasn't expecting it), I mentioned to him advice columns, news filler stories, and even books were written about how people had spent their lives wondering about former loves. (Actually, since nothing happened, even to exchanging names, certainly not phone numbers, my ticket taker was a sort of might have been a possible.) I said that if I hadn't married him, I would have spent the rest of my life regretting I hadn't. To sum it up, Roy saw his chance and grabbed it; the ticket taker didn't and didn't. If I ever do hear, I'll let you all know, but don't watch this space too much. Reality and imagination seldom mesh.
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