"Onward Little Soliders"

P&K Candy: Mysterious glow behind glass—where candy bars guard secrets and strangers become myth.

Tonight, the mystery deepened. The man with the butcher knife wasn’t a stranger—he lives here. Not on my floor, but the second. Some say he missed his meds. Others say he was high. Either way, it’s not good. He’s been arrested, and management is working on eviction. But this is New York, where Tenants Rights stretch long and tangled. It could take months. Years.

Still, the night offered light. I attended the GENESIS Group Christmas Party at SunRiver Health. A Zoom gathering of patients, volunteers, and staff across Hudson Valley, NYC, and Long Island. Their retention rate—84%—spoke volumes. Afterwards, we shared food from South and Latin American kitchens.

The White Elephant game was the highlight. Laughter, stolen gifts, playful revenge. I walked away with dark blue towels I needed and a $20 gift certificate to Ruben’s Mexican Café—a place I’ve never visited. A first awaits.

Later, I saw my best Muslim friend. By strange coincidence, we finally exchanged numbers. I’d lost my phone, retraced my steps, and returned to his place. He called my number. Now we’re saved in each other’s phones. I gave him a Christmas card—he doesn’t celebrate, but he loved it. His face lit up. I asked about his sons. Twelve and thirteen. I’m their adopted uncle now. Gifts will follow.

But then, the ache. The one who always messes up. Self-destructive. A bad boy who thinks sex is the charm. It's not. Not when you’ve lived. And the one I want most? He’s far away. Twelve hours apart. 


“Where’s my gift?” he once asked. It struck me as strange. But I followed the thread.

Feelings shift. Not permanently. But enough to remind me: there are others here. Right here, too.

December 17. Happy Birthday, Carleton—my second brother in South Carolina.