…thick as a mulligatawny stew…it is impossible to wrestle yourself and win. Or maybe, like so much in life, it really doesn’t matter and at best will generate a ‘Who cares?’
Everything you do comes back to you, is driven home again…
…it’s that time of the day, 10:48, every time I see it is 10:48 I am immediately dashed on the rocks in 1971 when 1048 was an instruction and a place my cab was often dispatched to, a 100 times, and each time there was one, two, three or more girls/women from all over America converging on 1048 Old Country Rd., the only legal abortion clinic in the country…it weighs heavy on my conscience…nobody likes abortion…many times I would catch some of the same girls/women I had brought to the clinic on the ride from 1048, back to Kennedy to LaGuardia or even Port Authority to suffer a bus ride return to wherever home was…there was lots of Southern accents, no color but white, precious little small talk, or any other, no sightseeing, no tips, your basic bummer, but the clinic at 1048 Old Country lavished lots of filthy lucre on my cab company and as the trickle down theory goes I made quite a lot of blood-soaked money…in those days I don’t remember giving it a lot of thought one way or another, these days, twice a day, I am bowed with shame and remorse; society may forgive me, I don’t...
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