My Wonderful Walk

I last wrote about a walk in early August, when I returned from NYC. I called it an inspired walk, as I had thought about it after reading a book ahead of my trip.

Today's walk was nothing like the walk in NYC, but it was a fantastic way to spend my morning and early afternoon. I left my house just before 9 o'clock, and I returned about 4 1/2 hours later. The walking part was about four hours and covered thirteen miles. Unlike some of the walks from earlier this summer, I had no plans for this walk's direction. I decided yesterday, when I walked a shorter distance, to take a longer walk today. It ended up being a narrow triangle, like yesterday, but much further out. Yesterday, I walked down Westheimer all the way to Emancipation Street and returned on McGowen.

Today's trip had nice cool weather and bright sun. I went down Waugh from near my house all the way to the Dunlavy Bridge. I proceeded to Studemont (which is Montrose before it changes its name) and Washington Avenue. I went east for a long time, walking down Harrisburg all the way to Lockwood. This is where I used to ride my bike. I turned on Lockwood and then turned on Polk Street. I used to ride my bike on Polk Street. In fact, this is where I rode my bicycle the last time, on 4/15/22, when I was almost killed. I have walked here before and have shared a photo. Here is me today:

I feel like I am winning when I walk here. It's a miracle that I am alive, and I am happy to be able to walk to Sidney and Polk, where I was almost killed or left seriously damaged for the rest of my life.

With my father having died this week and my mother and siblings omitting me and my family from the obituary, I felt like I was winning another battle today. I wrote about my father's death when I learned about it, on Tuesday morning, but I had no idea my mother and sister would act so stupidly and so evilly. I would have written what I wrote even if I had known that I would be purposefully left out of the obituary.

On my walk yesterday, I thought about reaching out to my mother to tell her how I had no intention of ever talking to her again. When I got home, I decided not to do so, but I doubt I will ever talk to her again. Of course, there is a lot more to the story than just the rudeness from this week. Today, I gave it no thought at all.

Dad's funeral on Friday went well for me. It was short and to the point, and Rabbi David Lyon of Beth Israel did a wonderful job in his talk about my dad's life. My rabbi, Steve Gross, and his wife, Beckye, attended, as did a few friends. My Aunt Susan Brochstein and her daughter, Deborah Brochstein, Deborah's husband, Steven Hecht, and Susan's son Benjamin Brochstein were there and sat near us. So did two of my friends and also my former Aunt and current neighbor and friend, Joan Brochstein, who was married to my Uncle Bobby when I was a little boy. My mother didn't say a word to me, and I never ran into my brother or sister either. There were friends of my parents who said nice things to me, and some that just ignored me, including these two on either side of my father:

I am not going to name them, but I was very close to them a long time ago. They came in from Chicago for a party at my parents house in 1990, and they were always good to me, especially when I was there for college. I am not sure what happened, but they don't talk to me at all now, including at my father's funeral. It was nice of them to come in.

Fran and I went to Magnol afterwards and grabbed some lunch to go for me and some croissants for both of us and a treat for our neighbor and friend. For dinner, my son and his wife treated us to hamburgers from our favorite place, Burger Joint. And, the stock market was very kind to me (short stocks) on Tuesday, when I learned of his death, and Friday, when I attended his funeral. What a week!

I continued on Polk Avenue all the way through downtown, and I shifted to Dallas, where I stopped by the Beth Israel Cemetery. I visit this place every Sunday to see my friend, John, who works there at the gate. Last week, I saw him and had a nice chat with him. He told me he was probably going away today (for his birthday, his wife's birthday and their anniversary), but he wasn't sure. He was away. I then walked to Barnaby's on West Gray and had a nice lunch, Carnitas Quesadilla:

On the way home, I stopped at a fantastic donut place near our house. I used to go there everyday for a while, but I haven't been in over five months. Donuts are not good for you, but they sure taste good! I love Christy's Donuts on Montrose. I love the donuts, and I love the story of its owner, an Asian man who bought it in 1983.

The reason I quit eating donuts was due to my bronchiectasis, which has gotten much better (from acupuncture mainly). I wrote about it in July, and I can tell you that it is definitely not cured! I took another round of steroids in late August, and they helped a lot. I am grateful that my lungs did not interfere with my walk today.