Sunday, November 12, 1989
8 PM. It’s been a pleasant three-day weekend, if my usual lonely one. Still, I’ve tried to put my time and solitude to good use. Next weekend I’ll be around plenty of people at the Miami Book Fair anyway.
I got up at 8 AM and went out to get my reserved copy of the Sunday Times. Back in the apartment, I made myself Nutri/System pancakes and then worked on a list of term paper topics for my English 101 students who are too dull to think of one on their own.
Not only are they ignorant, mercenary and self-centered, but some of them are mean-spirited and politically far to the right of those (few) undergrad professors I dismissed as “fascists” at Brooklyn College twenty years ago.
Although my lower back has been tricky since Wednesday, I worked out to Body Electric and later used the weight bench in my parents’ garage.
In the afternoon, I finished reading the paper and doing the preparation for tomorrow’s classes. Because I’m taking a personal day on Wednesday, this week shouldn’t be hectic even though I’m beginning a new workshop at 
Actually, Thursday will be my busiest day. Tomorrow shouldn’t be so bad, especially if I get more sleep than I did the last two Sunday nights.
At my parents’, Jonathan had brought China over. She stares at me with those brown eyes and at times she tries to talk to me. It’s always hard to say goodbye to her, because she doesn’t know where I’m going and I wonder if she expects to see me again.
Euphoria still reigns in the streets of East Berlin as hundreds of thousands of East Germans stream to the West; almost all return home after sightseeing, shopping and visiting, but I’m certain that now that the wall has opened, the Soviets and the East Germans will never be able to close it again.
This weekend seems the definite end of the Cold War, though I still hear the reactionary talk-show hosts babbling on about Soviet duplicity and how this is all a trick to gain world conquest.
Today I read about planned celebrations of Earth Day next April, twenty years after the original day of worldwide demonstrations about the environment. Next May will also be the twentieth anniversary of the Cambodian invasion and the Kent State killings.
Jimmy Carter is starting to be the subject of media speculation that he was not the devil incarnate after all. Carter’s selflessness after the presidency contrasts with Reagan’s accepting $2 million for a few days of appearance in Japan.
The times they are a-changing.
Monday, November 13, 1989
At BCC I had lots of xeroxing to do before teaching. I signed up to help Patrick at the Book Fair on both Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Supposedly the three BCC English departments are involved, but Patrick will probably have trouble finding volunteers outside South Campus.
I’m actually looking forward to the Book Fair as a time to get away and socialize, even if I can’t get into many of the events because I’ll be tied up at the BCC table outside.
While my English 102 students wrote their CLAST-prototype essays today, I read and graded papers.
During my break, I sat outside with smokers Adrienne and Barbara, who said I now look “slight.” Today I wore a pair of Sergio Valente jeans I bought in Macy’s at Kings Plaza four years ago but which were always too tight for me. Now they’re not even snug, and I’m glad I saved them.
My English 101 class was distracted, as was I, as I attempted to discuss extended definition with them. But all my students perked up and seemed happy when I said I was canceling class on Wednesday.
Home at 1 PM, I had lunch and then finished reading the papers. An aerobic workout to a Body Pulse video didn’t even have me sweating. Perhaps my fitness level is getting higher and I need something more taxing. However, 
I got a ton of mail, including seven credit card bills. Because I’ve got more money in the bank now, I’m not cutting it so close with my credit chassis, and I’m able to pay more than the minimum. I’ll get my $830 BCC check on Thursday, and an FIU check should be coming soon.
Mostly she’s been playing “earth mother,” but she’s also doing a few poetry workshops, helping out with Robert’s Fish Dance magazine, and getting a new chapbook together. I’m glad to be in touch with Miriam again.
Tuesday, November 14, 1989
7 PM. I woke up at 7 AM today and accomplished a good deal before I left for BCC three hours later: I had a vigorous aerobic workout, graded all the remedial papers and typed up and printed out the essays we looked at in class.
You couldn’t get me to be a teenager today for any money. It’s interesting that working with recent high school graduates as closely once again has made me see I must have been very mixed-up to get involved with Sean. Of course, I was 7½ years 
However, I don’t care how special or cute he is, there’s no way I’d think of getting involved with an 18-year-old today. But Sean is 25 by now, and I’d consider a relationship with someone that age; at least I’d feel a 25-year-old had gone through some adult crises.
Cynthia said my day off tomorrow was confirmed, and Morris took the creative writing class’s papers so they can proceed without me tomorrow evening.
T
Sophie phoned this morning and said Teacher Education Center needs a teacher for a 30-hour computer literacy calendar course to be held at Coral Gables Senior High School in January.
I gave her Mondays and Tuesdays in January and February, and if they don’t like those times, then I won’t do it.
Thursday, November 16, 1989
A good night’s sleep surely did: I slept deeply from 10 PM to 7 AM, and I felt very rested this morning. I exercised and was out of the house by 9 AM to meet Marc at the warehouse to get two cartons of With Hitler in New York for the Book Fair.
I know I won’t be able to sell them, whatever Patrick thinks. At BCC, as I was loading my books onto his van, Patrick asked, “How much money do you plan to charge for these books?” I told him I wouldn’t pay more than three dollars to anyone willing to take a copy.
Marc is now a couple of pounds heavier than I am. He said he’d read an article critical of Nutri/System that said most of the people gained back most of the weight they lost.
While it’s discouraging to hear that, Marc is only seven or eight pounds above 
I figure I can be stricter and more disciplined about it, though I also know that maintaining my weight loss is the real test and much harder than anything I’ve accomplished so far.
Tonight I was disappointed when I weighed in and had lost two pounds, but not because I wanted to lose more. I wanted to lose less so I could stay on the program for as long as possible.
I didn’t have time to change tonight, and it’s getting chilly anyway; however, 
As Marc said, it’s scary at first when you go off the program. Like me, Marc felt pretty good on it, and his ulcer disappeared – just like I stopped getting diarrhea so often.
Well, I’ll take it one day and one week at a time. Now I wish I’d made my goal the 145 pounds the computer said I should weigh instead of 150.
My remedial class wrote while I finished grading the essays my English 102 classes did on Monday. I’d worked two hours last evening but hadn’t gotten through them all.
Home for lunch, I called Sophie, who said the TEC rep would probably be in my class at Miami Springs High School.
The class at Miami Springs High School went well, and I think I helped some of the teachers get over their fear of computers. I know my playful attitude helps, and it’s so satisfying to teach an adult something she can really use in her job and personal life.
I
Rush hour traffic was jammed on South River Drive before the Palmetto Expressway, but I-75 and I-595 were a breeze, even in 6 PM darkness.
After a quick dinner, as I said, I went to Nutri/System, weighed in, got my food for the week, and went to Julie’s class on strategies to cope with Thanksgiving.
Friday, November 17, 1989
9 PM. In the morning English 102 classes, I read aloud some of Crad’s Pork 
In English 101, I went over extended definition. When I walked into the classroom at 11 AM, the students were watching TV and they protested loudly when I turned it off. Someone had written on the blackboard: “Hello class, I’m Mr. Grayson.” I thought: Who needs this shit?
Sophie had just called with another possible TEC workshop for February, and I thought how different I felt about yesterday’s class in Miami Springs.
Instead, I’m working with professionals who need to learn something I can teach them. (In my head I’m writing a comparison/contrast essay in standard five-paragraph freshman comp form, with a thesis statement and three minor inferences.)
I’m told Jim’s books are good, and they’ve been sold to the movies and been on the bestseller list – but I just have no interest in the genre. I was surprised to hear how naïve Jim had been about the movie business when he first dealt with those vultures.
Saturday, November 18, 1989
9 PM. I had a refreshing sleep last night. This morning I went to BCC but found the Nautilus room closed.
In the parking lot I met Patrick, who told me how Friday went at the Book Fair. 
After exercising at home, showering and then having lunch, I drove downtown and arrived at the Book Fair just when I said I would, at 2 PM.
Barbara had been there since morning, and she was at the table with Jud, the Hungarian student who lives with Peter and Diane Hargitai.
We ran out of free BCC pens early on, but the only books that really sold a few copies were Peter’s, especially his Magyar Folktales, illustrated by Diane, a book suitable for children and of interest to Hungarian-Americans.
Barbara left at 3 PM, and I saw Adrienne and Tony briefly, but they were going to events and not sitting at the table. I did talk to Peter a lot; besides me, he’s the only real writer on the faculty.
Barbara’s poetry is monstrously bad; she has a tin ear, and basically she’s like one of my creative writing students who decided she could become a poet. Eileen isn’t any good, either, and Patrick doesn’t have great taste as a poetry 
I suspect Greg could never write a thriller anywhere near the level of Jim Hall, who was surprisingly friendly and introduced me to his fiancé. I also spoke with Jeffrey and Dina Knapp for a minute.
Rosemary Jones came by, and at first I didn’t recognize her because her hair had turned grey. She took The Greatest and Peter’s books and said she’s looking for authors for the next year of the Florida Book and Author Festival.
While he’ll never be the brightest guy in the world, Michael, like his wife, is sweet and well-meaning.
I didn’t get much of a chance to look at the fair, since I sat at the table most of the time, but then I haven’t read a book in the last three months anyway.
I felt very removed from the world of books at the fair – if it was a world of books. As Peter said, it was “a good place to get a panic attack.” I was bored a lot and the wind kept blowing the chapbooks and broadsides around.
Finally, at 5:30 PM, Peter and I closed up, putting plastic over the tables. “No one will steal anything,” Diane said, “because thieves know books have no value.” I got home after 7 
Last evening I spoke to Grandma Ethel, who now realizes her “burning sensation” acts up when she starts “thinking and worrying.” A psychiatrist comes to talk with her every day, and she’s still taking lots of pills.
Grandma said she dislikes hospital food, but she’s gained ten pounds since she arrived; I think that’s good, because she’d been malnourished. They haven’t told her yet when she can be released to a convalescent home.
I think she sounded a bit more cheerful.
Sunday, November 19, 1989
A woman wrote a hilarious piece about being trapped in an audience of disruptive elderly people in the Inverrary Cinema, and a guy detailed his childhood love of Disney films like The Absent-Minded Professor and Son of Flubber, Jerry Lewis comedies, and James Bond movies.
That reminded me of how Grandpa Herb rewarded my graduation from sixth 
Marc and I saw the first James Bond film, Dr. No, at the Nostrand before there was a James Bond craze. God, I have a lot of fond memories of the movies. Unlike me, my 
As I told Patrick today, I’m very glad he offered the suggestion I teach at BCC this term even if I find it frustrating at times.
Last night I kept thinking of any advantages BCC-South students had over my adult professionals, and all I could come up with was a clever but nasty line: “They have better tans, which not only makes them more pleasant to look at but also gives me the satisfaction of knowing many of them will get skin cancer.”
That’s my New York attitude showing. Yes, the students can be vapid and 
And being “dissed” (slang for “shown disrespect”) by an 18-year-old may be annoying, but it does tell me that no matter how smart or important I think I am, it will never impress some kids – and maybe that will give me a larger sense of perspective on my self-image, ambitions, and pretensions.
This morning I read the Sunday Times and worked out. At Publix I used the free coupons I got from Green Giant as compensation for finding a hair in my 
After lunch, I headed to Miami and sat with Patrick from 1:30 PM to 4:30 PM. Earlier, Greg and Vicky had been there, but nobody else from BCC was coming today.
I was glad I had come to help out. It was nice just to sit and chat with Patrick – about other people in the department and local “poets.” (Like Peter and me, he thinks Barbara has no talent, but Patrick believes Eileen does great work – though he feels she’s not written as well since they broke up.)
I sold one copy of Greg’s book (a self-published mystery) but gave away some copies of Hitler. I ended up with $7 in sales, and with two $3 parking lot fees, I came out $1 ahead for the weekend.
Back home in Broward, I had dinner and then started in grading papers.
I’m becoming uneasy about all the euphoria about Eastern Europe. Bush and 
I suspect a Tiananmen Square-style massacre is likely before too long as the old guard somewhere – Czechoslovakia, East Germany or the Soviet Union itself – tries to avoid giving up power completely.
With the Communist economies in shambles, even Gorbachev isn’t very secure in his power – though I feel eventually freedom will win out.
But freedom usually doesn’t happen as easily as it has appeared to be doing in 1989.