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Post by RangoA@live.com on Jul 9, 2008 5:41:33 GMT -5
 During that time of working for the Wall Street Journal, I was liked by my co-workers because some of them, especially my supervisor, knew of my brother and the hard work he had done in his life. They took me out to nightclubs outside World Financial Center Five (the Atrium) by the waterfront there, to pubs and we had a holiday party at a restaurant/pub named the Slaughtered Lamb in December, 1993. We exchanged gifts and it was so fun to be able to party with people who worked at one of the most prestigiously conservative business newspapers in the world at the time. I was dating someone from Odessa, Russia who had immigrated to our country with her family, and her father would travel back and forth to Europe as an merchant selling clothing, shoes, handbags, furniture, yada, yada, yada. She and I spent time in Brighton Beach where we would go grocery shopping in many russian stores and walk of the boardwalk there in Brighton Beach overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. That wasn't too far from Coney Island, which I already wrote about with Kathy Mers at Coney Island in 1981 and Eleanora here in this announcement. I was doing a great job, according to my co-workers, and they even put me in one of the internal newspapers of the Wall Street Journal, Barron's and/or Smart Money, all these were owned by Dow Jones at the time. My brother died while I was working there in November of 1993. I was sitting in an apartment he got me from one of his friends, ironically the guy who had his pal pick me up at the train station with my mother and then his pal let me live in his rent controlled apartment, well that apartment in Abingdon Square in November, 1993 was owned by the guy who was the partner of my brother's pal and he let me live in his apartment in Abingdon Square in the West Village. Around that time, I met another lady and she and hit it off immediately, so I started to break up with the lady from Russia and went out with other girl in my life, Maxine. I was studying and getting ready to go to work at the Wall Street Journal when my brother's VNS nurse would call me three times in October and November and scare me into coming over to my brother's apartment because he was about to pass away. I did the first two times and he didn't so I would barely make it on time to work since it wasn't too far from his penthouse by subway to get to the World Trade Center station and take the ramp across the street into the World Financial Center. The third time a Visiting Nurse Service nurse called me and said the same thing and I was doing the same thing, I said no he's not and I don't think you should bother me when I'm on my way to work. I said, I've come over two times already and he didn't, I'm not coming over again. She said, Arthur we are sure he is going to this time. I said, that's what you said last time and time before that. She said, this is different he will probably be gone within minutes. I said, okay here I come again and you better be telling me the truth this time because I'm going to miss work, tonight. I walked over to his penthouse and my brother was gone, his best friend Deborah, my mother, the nurse and his doctor were with him when he died, I got there about ten minutes after he died. We then said prayers for him and I cried with my mother whom was crushed emotionally; physically; spiritually; you name it. She was devastated. I called off work and spent the night with my mother. We called my brother's pal and said -- I wasn't going to live in his apartment anymore and immediately moved in with my mother in my brother's apartment. I was still working at the Wall Street Journal, everyone there was so very supportive and sympathetic with my families' loss -- Yet, I couldn't handle the job and going to college at the same time my mother was suffering so much. So, I quit the job in January, 1994. I then admitted myself into St. Vincent's Hospital in January after spending two months taking care of my mother. Maxine would visit me there along with my mother. A couple of my brother's friends visited me there too and I got a lot of get well wishes phone calls while in St. Vincent's Hospital. I got out of the hospital in one week and went back to my brother's apartment where I lived with my mother for one year until the summer (I don't remember, for sure, what season) of 1995. After picking myself up by my boot straps like I had been reprogrammed from the programmable goal oriented input fed into my character to make me confident enough in myself to be strong and reach into my resources, which was all part of the brainwashing, I got another job in June 1994 at a investment bank called Scudder, Stevens and Clark, last I heard they had changed the name of it or something) and serendipitously Maxine was working there at that time. She worked the morning shift and I took over the afternoon shift.
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During that time of working for the Wall Street Journal, I was liked by my co-workers because some of them, especially my supervisor, knew of my brother and the hard work he had done in his life. They took me out to nightclubs outside World Financial Center Five (the Atrium) by the waterfront there, to pubs and we had a holiday party at a restaurant/pub named the Slaughtered Lamb in December, 1993. We exchanged gifts and it was so fun to be able to party with people who worked at one of the most prestigiously conservative business newspapers in the world at the time. I was dating someone from Odessa, Russia who had immigrated to our country with her family, and her father would travel back and forth to Europe as an merchant selling clothing, shoes, handbags, furniture, yada, yada, yada. She and I spent time in Brighton Beach where we would go grocery shopping in many russian stores and walk of the boardwalk there in Brighton Beach overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. That wasn't too far from Coney Island, which I already wrote about with Kathy Mers at Coney Island in 1981 and Eleanora here in this announcement. I was doing a great job, according to my co-workers, and they even put me in one of the internal newspapers of the Wall Street Journal, Barron's and/or Smart Money, all these were owned by Dow Jones at the time. My brother died while I was working there in November of 1993. I was sitting in an apartment he got me from one of his friends, ironically the guy who had his pal pick me up at the train station with my mother and then his pal let me live in his rent controlled apartment, well that apartment in Abingdon Square in November, 1993 was owned by the guy who was the partner of my brother's pal and he let me live in his apartment in Abingdon Square in the West Village. Around that time, I met another lady and she and hit it off immediately, so I started to break up with the lady from Russia and went out with other girl in my life, Maxine. I was studying and getting ready to go to work at the Wall Street Journal when my brother's VNS nurse would call me three times in October and November and scare me into coming over to my brother's apartment because he was about to pass away. I did the first two times and he didn't so I would barely make it on time to work since it wasn't too far from his penthouse by subway to get to the World Trade Center station and take the ramp across the street into the World Financial Center. The third time a Visiting Nurse Service nurse called me and said the same thing and I was doing the same thing, I said no he's not and I don't think you should bother me when I'm on my way to work. I said, I've come over two times already and he didn't, I'm not coming over again. She said, Arthur we are sure he is going to this time. I said, that's what you said last time and time before that. She said, this is different he will probably be gone within minutes. I said, okay here I come again and you better be telling me the truth this time because I'm going to miss work, tonight. I walked over to his penthouse and my brother was gone, his best friend Deborah, my mother, the nurse and his doctor were with him when he died, I got there about ten minutes after he died. We then said prayers for him and I cried with my mother whom was crushed emotionally; physically; spiritually; you name it. She was devastated. I called off work and spent the night with my mother. We called my brother's pal and said -- I wasn't going to live in his apartment anymore and immediately moved in with my mother in my brother's apartment. I was still working at the Wall Street Journal, everyone there was so very supportive and sympathetic with my families' loss -- Yet, I couldn't handle the job and going to college at the same time my mother was suffering so much. So, I quit the job in January, 1994. I then admitted myself into St. Vincent's Hospital in January after spending two months taking care of my mother. Maxine would visit me there along with my mother. A couple of my brother's friends visited me there too and I got a lot of get well wishes phone calls while in St. Vincent's Hospital. I got out of the hospital in one week and went back to my brother's apartment where I lived with my mother for one year until the summer (I don't remember, for sure, what season) of 1995. After picking myself up by my boot straps like I had been reprogrammed from the programmable goal oriented input fed into my character to make me confident enough in myself to be strong and reach into my resources, which was all part of the brainwashing, I got another job in June 1994 at a investment bank called Scudder, Stevens and Clark, last I heard they had changed the name of it or something) and serendipitously Maxine was working there at that time. She worked the morning shift and I took over the afternoon shift.