Oct. 1, 1983
Jimmy is a man of habit – and faith.
Faith not n the ordinary or traditional way – the quiet paganistic
motivations of the world, relying on mother earth or Gaia to give him support.
Remarkably, Jimmy is not dramatically different from Clayton
who he despises (or appears to), and by habit, I mean, he and Clayton both do
things in specific ways, and that the universe – as in Medieval times – tends to
revolve around him.
(Here I need to be careful as to not project onto him
characteristics which are not really his and I suppose some measure of example
is in order here.)
Perhaps the most annoying of these habits is how Jimmy manages
to obtain rides. Years ago, when many of the Garley Gang lived in this
apartment complex in Passaic, Jimmy made a point of contacting each and every
one of us, getting each of us to promise to give him a ride (usually to Quick
Chek), lining us up just on the off chance one or more of us crapped out at the
last moment.
This might seem like a reasonable precaution, except for the
fact that each of usually went out of our way to accommodate him, assuming some
urgency to his request – especially when at times he “needed” to go the library
(we assuming he would pay some late fee if we did not rush him there.)
On one such occasion, Jimmy arranged for a ride to the
library and as it happened, I was the only one available, and he made it clear
it would be a terrible trek to take the ten block walk in the icy rain. Since I
knew Jimmy often had little money to spare, I assumed that if I did not bring
him, his pile of books would be overdue.
After nearly a half hour scraping the ice off my car, I
drove him the ten blocks to the library. He did not have books to bring back,
and he took none out when we got there.
I’m still uncertain as to why we went at all.
But I believe this may be his need for attention.
Last week, James refused to go to work 15 minutes early in
order to accommodate my schedule, even though he’s the one begging me for the
ride, the result of which, he arrived on work at time, and I arrived at my jobs
15 minutes late.
Most often, he has another purpose for his rides, often
getting me to take him to John Ritchie’s house on Totowa Road in Paterson for
the purpose of getting pot – John is kind, always trading pot for a painting
Jimmy has made, and perhaps has the largest collection of anyone.
Sometimes, we go to Patty Joyce’s house in Little Falls for
the same purpose, although he prefers John to Patty, because Patty wants cash.
Jimmy has habits in the apartment that so resemble Clayton’s
that I sometimes confuse who is whom if I only hear them moving around, each
caught in a strange dance, as one does this and the other does that, but always
with the same gestures and steps, putting this here or that there, putting on
or turning off music, mumbling about this or that, or about me or each other.
They could be twins. Perhaps in another life they were.
But from the way Jimmy feels about Clayton, I suspect they
might have been Cain and Abel in the previous incarnation.
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