Tales from the F Train – Hope and Gratitude

“I am good, it is great to see you, Mr. B.” “You look just like your father - I miss him, what a man! A legend!” As always a tear streaked through my heart whenever someone mentioned my father. He had passed away two years earlier - but the void was still pulsating within me.

Tales From the f train – Just your Typical Commute

Thankfully the train rolled into the station. Of course no one even acknowledged the now naked man. I just waved and said, "Have a good day."  He nodded his head and whispered to himself.  "Fat man is crazy." 

Tales from The F Train Five forty five, Tuesday, November 7th, 2017

Can anyone truly allow themselves the allowance of the painful healing powers of surrender? Some run around searching for connections, some drink or eat more than they should; some are abusive pouring out their pain onto others as if conquering the sadness by causing others to feel it for them, from them. Some just go through time with distractions…They keep the noise surrounding them at all times - people, music, television, smart phones, computers...open the windows and let the noise distract us. At night, as one lays in bed, intrusions of inner noises such as memories or embellishments of one’s history. Rationalizations for the decisions in our lives we choose to avoid regretting or taking responsibility for. “It all happens for the best,” or the ultimate shirking of responsibility - “God is in control.” We close the door to those intruders whose aim is to disturb us from our dreams; so we close our eyes tightly and we force ourselves to be someone else, somewhere else…We sleep to dream and awake to the alarming sound that the time to dream has past.

Saw an Old Man

I was standing on the platform on Kings Highway waiting on the F train to take me to the city when I saw an elderly man sitting on the bench. I knew this man since I was a child, seen him around my neighborhood; standing upright and boisterous.  He was the kind of man who would walk into a room and everyone would know it before they even recognized his face. He had that dynamic mystique, while not good looking and fit; he had a persona that was like an open door promising warmth and good cheer.  So many scenes swept me up in a conspiracy of time travel that I felt dizzied by the theater of it all.  He sat there and had a look on his face of confusion? As if he had gotten off the train at an unfamiliar stop somewhere? Or was it his eyes brows rising on the outer parts, sinking in the inner; his face unevenly shaved and his shirt unevenly buttoned up that made him seem lost?

Home Again

I found my way down to Los Gatos in California. I was led there by another woman named, Danielle, who's father worked at Netflix in some high powered job there. She promised me a job there and a place to live. I lived with her and her sister for two years; working in the marketing department of Netflix for a while and then shifting over to work in San Jose at Happy Hollow Park Zoo for what seemed like eternity but in reality was only for a month. It was at the end of that month that I met Tracey, a graphic designer and recently a divorcee.

Tales from the F Train Chapter 7 Jason

4th Street He jumps off the train and walks up the stairs to the next level. Groups of men are sleeping on the floor which leads to the exit. An older lady with newspapers covering her body is asking for spare change while two men wrestle on the floor beneath an advertisement for menthol cigarettes. New York City - horns honking, squeegee men, cool May air with a touch of humidity making it seem cooler. He looked up and saw the entrance to, “Nells.” Walked around some groups waiting on line and spoke to the girl up front.

Tales from The F Train Chapter 6 Irene

She looked over at the woman standing close to her and said, as if in mid conversation; “She left me in 1936. She was coughing blood. We stopped drinking, smoking and whatever just to get her better. We went to church and the Father said she was doomed to die because of her sins.” The lady nodded in recognition as if she was in on the story. She didn't speak or understand a word of english.

Tales from the F Train Chapter 5 – Max and Sophia (part 2)

Time did not stop for either of them; a year passed and they each filled their time with stuff that life throws at you. For Max it meant drinking too much and sleeping too little. For Sophia it meant working while trying to absorb the Italian culture as much as possible. They each dated other people, thought about each other, began to contact the other and then quickly stopped. The feelings of regret, broken parts, missing each other and what ifs, slowly began to dissipate as time kept on doing it's job as only time can.

Tales from the F Train Chapter 5 – Max and Sophia (part 1)

He was dressed in a black tuxedo, white shirt and black bowtie and vest. His vest was unbuttoned and his collar open. He had dark features; dark hair, eyes and skin; stood at five feet nine inches. He was in his late 20’s. Sophia was dressed in a black gown with a slit from her waist on down. She was around five foot six while wearing a pair of Italian heels. She had dirty blonde hair which fell behind her, dark skin which contrasted perfectly against her green eyes. She was also in her late 20’s and

Tales from the F Train Chapter 3 The Levirate Marriage

She closed her eyes and thought about the song that had come on randomly earlier. “It had to be you,” was the song they had danced to at the wedding. She tried to convince herself at that time that she felt they were as one. Once she kissed him, she could still feel his lips against hers; cold blooded and dispassionate. It was then she felt a pain inside of her as if a hypnotic spell had been cast and now it had run it's course. She whispered that she needed to go to the bathroom.

Devil Dogs, TV and Pumpkin Pie

My mother is a prime example of what a mother should be and is. She can drive you crazy because she is a worrier - but she can calm you down and give you hope when you feel like all hope is gone. She is a fighter, a singer, a baker and a master chef. She is a mother, an adviser, a friend and a doctor all rolled into one. My father was an icon, We didn't realize it growing up, although I used to follow him and sit with him listening to the stories he would tell us. To me he was always a giant at barely five feet tall. His eyes and his smile can make me feel loved unconditionally no matter what the situation was.

Tales from the F Train Chapter Two Jacob

In 1945 I had just come back from being stationed at Fort Bragg. I had been released for what they called ‘section 8.’ My first night back at home, we lived at 99 Ryerson Street in Brooklyn, next to the park over there, my first night there I met with my girl. She was happy I was home and expected me to pop the question. I wasn’t ready to ask any questions to anyone. The next night she told me she had met someone while I was away and that he did have a question for her and she was ready to answer him, unless I would ask her first. I laughed, turned and walked away while she cried, ran up to her room and I never saw her again.

Tales from the F-Train Chapter One WANDA

She walked on and took a seat facing ahead against a window. She watched the rooftops pass by and saw some instant scenes of lives passing by. A man in a wife beater undershirt standing looking outside, an empty room, a woman walking past the window. Quentin Road and she saw the snow was starting to stick on the rooftops and on the grassy parts of the sidewalks below.