On the day before Christmas I had returned to Portsmouth for a short visit.

I had been in the army for two years and was thinking of rejoining for another two years. I thought I might try to be stationed in New York City. If I were in the army, I could probably find a job I liked. During the previous two years in the army I had spent much time studying law and I hadn't had to work at anything terribly disagreeable.

I would also like to learn more about modern weapons systems and I thought the army would be a good place to do so. I was opposed to weapons systems, but I thought I needed to know more about them to understand exactly what I opposed.

I was more intelligent than most people in the army, so I would be able to find a position where I wouldn't have to do very much. But certain regulations might exist which would prevent my moving from one position to another. I would need to plan out which position I wanted to obtain.

I walked to a spot on Waller Street in the middle of the black section of Portsmouth and sat down on a bench on the corner. Wittenburg (a former high school classmate) was also sitting there and we began talking. A car drove by with Steve Weinstein sitting in the back seat. Another fellow was in the back with Weinstein and two fellows were in the front. I knew everyone in the car and I hollered out Weinstein's name as the car passed by.

Weinstein quickly looked at me but the car drove on. When the car turned at the next corner, I thought it would probably come back around the block. I knew that Wittenburg was also a friend of Weinstein's and that Weinstein would also probably want to see Wittenburg. When the car didn't return after I waited for a few minutes, I thought, "Well, I'll go on to the library."

I thought I might be able to find a book about the army there; perhaps Weinstein would also come to the library if he came back around. I entered the library and found a book which had a picture of many stars on the front cover and I wanted to check out the book. I carried it to the check-out counter and handed it and my library card to the woman behind the counter. She said, "That'll be ninety cents, please."

This was the first time I had used that library card. I thought for a minute and I wondered why she had charged me ninety cents. Then I remembered that when I had obtained the card, I had been told the first check-out would cost 90 cents.

I pulled out a large pocketful of change, laid it on the counter and began counting out some money. I picked out three quarters, a nickel and a dime and pushed them off from the rest of the change. Then I scrapped the remaining change off the counter into my hand and put it back into my pocket. Some small pieces of white lint were still on the counter; the lint had apparently been in my pocket with the change.

Some commotion was going on behind me. I turned around and saw what appeared to be a well in the middle of the room. It was round and had a circular wall which rose to about my waist. Some people were talking about something they were pulling up out of the well in a net.

When the people pulled a large fish all the way to the top, I asked how long the fish was and someone said it was three foot two inches long. I asked what kind of fish it was and someone said it was a "polypus." It looked like some kind of prehistoric fish. I was amazed. It was so long I didn't see how it had been able to move around in the narrow well.

Looking at the fish more closely, I realized it was dead, had apparently been dead for a while, and had already begun to decompose. I stood looking at it a while longer, but I really wanted to leave.

Unfortunately, the woman hadn't yet returned the book to me, but had laid it on a shelf behind the check-out counter. I looked at the woman and asked, "May I have my book?"

She asked someone to run behind the counter and get it. He did so and the woman gave me the book. I walked to the door and saw four fellows, including Weinstein and Roger Anderson, coming in. I walked to Weinstein and hugged him. Then I embraced Anderson and the other two fellows one at a time. Hugging everyone felt good. I told Weinstein, "I recently talked with someone who said that a person needs at least four hugs a day to survive."

I was happy to see Weinstein, who looked young and clean-shaven. I thought he would probably be spending the next day, Christmas, with his parents and would be leaving the following day. This might be the only time I would have a chance to see him.

When I asked Weinstein what he had been doing, he said that he had just played a couple major games of pool for that year and that he had lost both games. I asked, "Is that an indication of how things have been going generally for the last couple of years?"

He smiled, walked back into the library, and told him I wanted to show him the fish. But I was unsure whether the fish was still there or whether it had been thrown away already.

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