May 17, 2003
Bob Hatfield

3:00 a.m. - Friday night is closing down as I begin Saturday morning.

4:00 a.m. - What little traffic there is on the streets consists of taxis & police cruisers. Those who serve have the city to themselves.

At the corner of College & Pine: the house* is gone, the beautiful photo of it, & the one who took the photo. A bright moon is still overhead. [* In the early 70's, a Christian communal house church was located here, of which Bob was a part. It made quite an impact in the area at the time.]

Along Battery St.: the birds are out. I don't know what kind they are. (I don't know birds' songs.) He knows who they are - each one of them.

Church St. (where I am writing these notes): a security guard checks the doors below the "B" where the entrance to Jupiter Store used to be - next to Woolworth's (also not there anymore). It's time to walk.

4:15 a.m. - Winooski Ave.: Rock music comes from a gas pump at a filling station. No one else is around just now to listen to it. The music is tinny. Cars pull up to the loading dock to pick up the morning papers with yesterday's news. Conversation overheard: "He doesn't rebound well." A comment about a friend's difficulty with personal tragedy? No, a basketball player.

There are first signs of light to the east. There were yesterday and the day before that. The moon is still bright. Maybe not as novel as a musical gas pump, but less tinny, more abiding. One more round of walking; the time is short.

4:55 a.m. - Bank St.: newspaper dispenser being filled.

City Hall Park: man walks his bike through the park. There were no bikes with those going home from the bars at 3:00 a.m. "last night."

Main St.: workman sweeps up the sidewalk of yesterday's leavings. Up the street the gulls fight over the choicest pieces of trash.

Church St.: a man wishes me a good morning.

Turn Back Buttom