At the laundromat, I told Tony, I still think about him now and then, wonder how he is doing. Little would I know that morning I was moving into my apartment on Elm Avenue that both Tony and I would someday be calling the streets our home.
I had recently been thinking about Tony.
I was on my way to or from downtown library when I saw Tony at Lincoln Park. He was waiting with other homeless people for the sermon to be over to get breakfast. Since that time, Long Beach has outlawed feeding people at parks, but back then it was a common sight. There was a musician, perhaps guitar player. The people were glum.
I told Tony something like "That's not how you do it." I put down my bag, raised my arms to the sky, facing Long Beach's WTC saying, "Thank you Lord, thank you Jesus, hallelujah, praise be to God." Or whatever I said ~ along with mention of no one flying a plane into to World Trade Center building. I was quite animated.
Maybe at the time, still fresh in my mind, attending services at gospel type churches ~ places where worshipers are not quiet when praising and thanking their god.
I have other memories of Tony, but that one will likely never vanish from my mind. Hope I recognize him, next time I see him.