I've had a lifetime of loneliness that I never wanted for one second and it never seems to get any much easier to deal with. I'm actually shocked that I'm still alive!
Right now I am low, to be totally honest. I know some of it has to do with the election and our impending crisis as a country, along with the "Fall back" time change and the fact it's getting colder and winter is now dead straight ahead, but it also has to do with a chronic lack of fellowship with ANY Believers outside of my mom and my brother (who I only see once every couple of weeks). There's no one else save for texting and sporadic phone conversations.
I keep praying for someone to come into my daily life and help me and it never happens. Of course, it doesn't help at all that I have to work every single Sunday.
My employers call it "primetime," and corporate demands "all hands on deck" because they've determined this is THE day now for people to shop for food.
So to go back to to NYC, which gives me such sentimental emotions because there was a time there in that great city, which I still love thoroughly despite all its shortcomings, when I was genuinely happy, or at least it felt like I was happy.
My story with Trump is a simple one. After I quit my job to write about the Bible (I've written about this many times and I will do it again soon so you understand where I'm coming from), I found I could be real productive at different Starbucks around Manhattan.
What it gave me, with the scenery of other patrons as well as the street life outside, was the feel that I was back in a newsroom, surrounded by hustle and bustle and business being conducted and people on phones as well as people like me--enjoying a cup of coffee at a chair, or stool, alone while reading/writing something that seemed important.
Over the years I was in various NYC Starbucks, and I pretty much hit all the ones in Manhattan at one point or another because it gave me the excuse to get on the subway and see other neighborhoods as well as experience the different types of people and vibes inside each Starbucks, I saw more than a few famous people.
One time crossing the sidewalk near 52nd and 7th was Harvey Keitel. Another time, at 56th near 6th, I found myself seated only a few tables from Jackie Mason. What gave him away was his distinctive voice with the NY-Jewish accent.
Another time at the Times Square Starbucks (no longer there to my shock and dismay when I returned to NYC the other week) across from the Ed Sullivan Theater in the days David Letterman's late show was on the marquis, I saw Chelsea Clinton actually sitting on the floor working on her laptop. This was a busier-than-usual day when no chairs were available.
I became such an aficionado of Manhattan's Starbucks that more than one friend recommended I stop worrying about writing a book about the Bible and write a book critiquing NYC's Starbucks.
That's how many stories/insights I had from what I observed being in the various locations, either from what happened inside or what I saw going on out on the streets from the big-pane windows.
So what was, hands down, my favorite Starbucks? The one (it has since been converted to a cafe called "Italian Kitchen") that was up that famous escalator inside Trump Tower and had the most gorgeous view of 5th Avenue.
I went to it at least once a week for all the years that I was in NYC after quitting my job. Thanks to Trump's wide-open access to everything, I kind of made it my own!!
For starters, when I had to use the restroom, I had to go down the famous escalator and then head to another escalator that went down another level to Trump's cafeteria and then go past his bookstore/gift shop and down the hallway. This is the only one they had for visitors.
Of course, the little bookstore had Trump's face plastered all over the windows and inside were blown-up posters of his latest book, etc. His mug was EVERYWHERE.
This was before he ran for president, of course, and I had nothing against him at the time. I thought he was a pretty charitable, easygoing guy for letting people like me have free reign over his Tower.
The thing is, when you're in somebody's "house" (and he did live in the penthouse of the place) you tend to think about them. Hence, I thought of Trump all the time I was enjoying his Starbucks and using his restrooms (which were all pink with very nice sink fixtures, sometimes manned by attendants who gave you a drying towel but never solicited tips), not to mention looking at the daily specials on display at his cafeteria.
(will be sure to write conclusion to this tomorrow and just know that I haven't been a fan of Trump since after his first campaign for president)
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