••• The Big Brother's, oops, i mean Apple's Gazette ••• A Sophisticated Periodical with Panache and a Sense of Humor
New York City is unlike any other city in the World, because it’s a gigantic World Metropole made of different neighborhoods, but every neighborhood is like a little Village unto itself. Unlike Villages or small Towns, however, where gossip is part of the town’s daily Entertainment, as in ” Have you heard ?” – “Have you heard about soandso ?” – “Did you hear what soandso did ?” – it’s uncommon to hear that in this City, and IF only from folks who’ve moved here from somewhere else, until they learn that Gossip is not something folks in this town engage in, or welcome.
And because we have no Gossip, i hadn’t heard about Vernon. There are no whisperers on street corners waiting to ask passersbys if they’d heard of this and that. One finds out about something when addressing folks directly, or asking someone who knows a person, works with a person, if wondering if a person went on vacation, or such.
I didn’t see Vernon yesterday, thinking he may’ve gone on a short vacation to spend Thanksgiving with friends or family. Vernon was for 19 years the Doorman of a building on my block. Every morning i’d see Vernon standing at the door – sometimes sitting on a stool behind the door doing a crossword puzzle – or stand outside in the entrance way sipping his tea he’d always have in a thermos cup.
Every morning for 19 years we’d say hello, good morning, have a short laugh, have a chuckle about his crossword puzzles, a mention about the weather, with him joking in his delightful Jamaican accent. It was part of my morning routine to say hi to Vernon who was always in a good mood – had always a smile on his face – a good natured fellow everyone liked on the block.
Today, taking my morning stroll, i didn’t see Vernon either, thus when seeing the Superintendent of that building along with what i believed was a new Temp Doorman, i asked the Super if Vernon was on vacation.
“Vernon was killed last saturday”, he said in a sombre voice, “…by a hit and run driver”
Hearing the Super’s words it sounded so unreal. Vernon was laughing, smiling and joking only last friday. He was so alive, how could he not be with us anymore ? I was in utter disbelieve. All i heard myself say was, NO – NO – NO. I saw him inside my mind standing outside the entrance of his building, gesturing a Salutation, with a jovial ” Good Morning”, as he’d always do; it was part of our morning spiel to Salute one another.
From this day forward i’ll be seeing Vernon in my mind, when walking by that building in the morning. I’ll be whispering, ” Good Morning, Vernon”, because as long as people are not forgotten they can’t die and continue to live inside our memory. People dear to us enrich our lives and leave us with something for years to come. Fond Memories.