I framed, with no glass, the first issue. I put out 61 issues. I plan to soon begin doing new ones. One a month I hope. I’ve been marking time waiting for the 62nd idea to come. I may re-fashion an older issue that I think is relevant now. 

Back from Wyoming. Great time there as always, But necessary to be back to my routines here. I’ll hold the sign again Monday. 

The best thing in Jackson is its library. It’s the best place that has books in it I’ve ever been in. The atmosphere, the light, the selections, the displays, the art they showcase, the care they take with books, the view out the window, the generous hours, the kids section. I come here every day. It’s where I am now. 

“Have you really read all those books in your room?”

Alaska laughing- “Oh God no. I’ve maybe read a third of ‘em. But I’m going to read them all. I call it my Life’s Library. Every summer since I was little, I’ve gone to garage sales and bought all the books that looked interesting. So I always have something to read.” 
                      ― John Green, Looking for Alaska

TWO PEOPLE TOOK PICTURES of the sign today. One guy from his car. People were honking behind him to get him moving.

I’m there every weekday on Chambers Street with the sign. People who pass me for the first time often don’t know what it is, or if it’s just a one-day thing. After days or weeks of seeing me on their way to work or school, they warm to it. They smile. They like the sign’s message. They like that some guy would stand there with it every day. What seemed an odd message to them at first comes to seem natural. Of course, some people say.

My shoulder still hurts. Hurts even more from doing the rigorous at-home exercises the physical therapist gives me to do. So I mostly hold the sign with one hand which is its own strain. But I can’t stay home. The sign wants to be seen.

Some guy hollered out his car window today, It’s the damn commies.

On my way just out of my apartment yesterday as I was going to the subway station to get to the Climate Strike rally I heard some students somewhere up ahead of me chanting about global warming. As I got closer it was a block-long group of kids with signs and exuberance heading where I was headed. My eyes watered a little from the sound of their voices as they marched toward a gathering with other kids.

The train we all took was the one I had taken some hours before with my sign. We got off where I got off earlier. Not many days do I get to go to two things that matter so.