I was in a building which seemed like the old Portsmouth Greyhound bus station, not far from downtown. Paul Gannon (an old friend from my late teen years in Portsmouth) and several other fellows (apparently members of Gannon's band) were congregated near me. One appeared to be John Pollitt (a guitarist whom I had once known in Portsmouth). Gannon (who like I, looked about 40 years old) was dressed in a heavy coat; I couldn't make out his features well, but he didn't look at all like I remembered him. He and the other fellows all had musical instruments which were in their cases. Pollit had laid down a hard vinyl guitar case about three meters long. Gannon, on the other hand, was carrying a cloth case about 60 centimeters cubed. He was able to open up the case into two sections. I thought perhaps the case contained drums, because I had thought Gannon used to play drums. However, I remembered that I had recently corresponded with Gannon, and that I had learned he played the guitar. When I asked him if he had had ever played drums, he informed me that he had never played drums and that he had always played the guitar. He then proceeded to fold up his case and he headed toward the door. Just as he reached the door, I hollered out to him and asked him if he remembered Mike Walls (another old friend from Portsmouth). Gannon stopped at the door and said he used to have a band with Walls. He gave me the name of the band, but I didn't understand what he said; and then he left.

I thought about how Walls used to play bass guitar; he had been pretty good and had played in a band for quite a while, but then Walls had given up the guitar and had never played again. After that, Walls' life had deteriorated. I thought I should talk to Walls about playing the guitar again. I still played flute, although I didn't play as much as I should. Both Walls and I were only 40 years old; we still had a lot of life left. It wasn't too late to dedicate ourselves to music. I definitely needed to talk to Walls and try to convince him to begin playing the guitar again.

After Gannon and his band had departed, I also decided to leave. I thought I would visit my mother, who was living in New Boston; so I walked outside and began running in the direction of New Boston. I thought I used to run regularly from Portsmouth to New Boston and I found running again to be exhilarating.

As I ran, I began thinking of Birdie (who used to live in New Boston). She would be about 35 years old now and her daughter Brandi would still be a child. I seemed to recall Birdie had taken a blood test which had determined that I was Brandi's father, but Birdie hadn't pressed me on the matter, because her husband Rick was still paying child support and Birdie needed the money. As I pictured Birdie in my mind, I wondered if she ever went to sex orgies; I could envision her in a room of naked men. Even though Birdie was now older than when I had known her, in my imagination I could see she still knew how to turn on a man. In my vision I could even see her attracting a man to her.

I continued east into New Boston. The Ohio River was perhaps 100 meters away on my right, and the hills along the river were on my left. I was surprised when I saw a large elegant rust-colored brick building between me and the river, a building which I had never noticed before. The building, which sat next to the railroad tracks (which also ran along the river) was two or three stories tall. Each of four large plaques on the front of the building contained the letters "RR"; obviously the edifice was an old administration building for the railroad. The building appeared empty and I wondered if it would be torn down. I noticed something quite extraordinary: a beautiful bronze statue of an eagle, perhaps three meters tall, perched on the top of the building. On the side of the building was a long slanting ramp which would allow a car to drive all the way to the top, right to the place where the eagle perched. I thought I would like to come back there later with my mother and have my picture taken in front of the eagle

***

My mother, my maternal grandmother Leacy, and I were in a car in New Boston, headed west back toward Portsmouth. We passed by another building in the same general area where I had previously seen the brick railroad building. This second building was likewise quite elegant; it looked as if it might have been a fancy hotel at one time, or perhaps the administration building of a corporation. The building also appeared to be abandoned and I wondered if it might be for sale. If it could be fixed up, it would make a wonderful home. Beyond the building ran the river, and between the building and the river lay an overgrown area of land. If I lived in that building, I could go running in that wild area along the river. It was a fabulous site. Several other old elegant houses were also in the area.

My mother, Leacy and I passed another statue, this time on the hill side. The statue was flat – bronze on a concrete backing. It was probably about five meters tall, displayed a 1930s art-deco appearance, and seemed to depict a man holding a torch high above his head. I thought I would also like to have my picture taken in front of this statue. I was impressed to be seeing statues which I had never seen before in Portsmouth.

As we continued along, Leacy told my mother to tell me something. My mother (who didn't look at all like herself) hesitated. I thought my mother knew something about Birdie which she (my mother) didn't want to tell me. I lightly put my hand on my mother's neck and jokingly acted as if I were going to choke the information out of her. Finally my mother said that Dolfie and his wife were going to separate, and that each of them was going to marry someone else. I said, "Dolfie?" I thought she must be talking about my brother Adolph, but I knew Adolph was dead. My mother clarified that she wasn't talking about my dead brother, but about someone else named Adolph. I repeated the name "Dolfie" and "Adolph" over in my head, thinking about how rare it was to hear of someone else named Adolph.

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