Jazzy is what I called him as did others who knew him. He considered us friends, but the reality is I don’t think any of us really knew him at all or even wanted to. Why he kept popping up in my life I don’t know. Some people keep resurfacing like a bad penny, and he was one of them. That won’t be the case anymore. Jazzy died of a heroin overdose a couple weekends ago.  

If you were to ask me when I was 16 years old if I would never again want an automobile, I would have told you that you were crazy. Every teenage boy wants his own set of wheels. I was no exception. My first automobile was a 1959 Chevy Biscayne. It’s a bit faded now, but that’s me in the photo with my car.  

I liked this young woman cutting my hair. Focused at the task at hand, she wasn’t saying a word to me. She kept her eyes squarely on the top of my head and used those scissors like she knew what she was doing. A friend had driven me around Western Hills last week looking for one of those express haircut places on Glenway Avenue.  

The guy has been eyeballing me for weeks at the bus stop in the mornings and has been chatting with me. Small talk at first — you know, the weather, why are the buses always late, that type of thing — but lately, the conversation has been more personal, wanting to know what I do for a living and where I live.  

Getting ready for work, I thought back to that morning when my son was born over 25 years ago. I started to feel sentimental, something I try hard in my life to avoid. Not on that morning. I looked at photos when he was first born and when he was little. I looked at pictures when he played baseball in grade school and pictures when he first entered high school. My mind was on the past. Where did the time go?  

I’m looking at an apartment at 10th and Madison in Covington. It’s on the first floor and there’s lots of sunlight. Also, in a roundabout way, I know the landlord. He’s holding the place for me. My son and I looked at it again last week and I’m going to try and make this move happen. Thinking of this move to Covington puts in focus all my years living in Cincinnati.  

Finally reaching downtown, I got off the bus on Fifth Street and as quickly as I could went to a hotel and used their restroom. This took a few minutes as I was fully paying the price for eating that oatmeal. Before leaving the restroom, I grabbed a hunk of toilet paper to wipe off my sweating face. I looked at my watch. I had 10 minutes to get to the interview.  

In the mail and on the Internet, the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP) is all over my ass. This started about six years ago when they learned that I had turned 50. Since then, their communication has been constant. The AARP wants me to be a member.  

When it comes to sex and friendship, I think it’s better not to mix the two. It’s not a good idea to start out as friends with someone and then decide you want to sleep with them. If you want sex, date someone or just have sex with someone else for the sake of having sex. Don’t let it get in the way of real friendships.  

I consider myself a lover of all animals and that includes birds, but more and more I find myself annoyed with all the damn pigeons downtown. I know they’re simply part of urban life, but these flying rats are starting to get on my nerves.