“Can ya believe it?”

Yesterday (Saturday, August 22, 2009) was the annual Alumni picnic at Ellison Park.
The so-called “Alumni” are the union retirees (Local 282, the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union) of Regional Transit Service in Rochester. (For 16&1/2 years [1977-1993] I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service [RTS].) The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit: management versus union. Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.” The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years. My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke; and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then. The Alumni is a special club — you have to join.
This time it was at Hazelwood Lodge on the north side of Blossom Road.
Last year it was at another lodge, perhaps “South Lodge,” on the south side of Blossom Road.
I mention that because I went to South Lodge first, thinking it was Hazelwood; but saw no one I recognized.
Finally I found Hazelwood, and approached tentatively.
“Lotta noisy blustering,” I said as I walked up. “Sure sounds like bus-drivers!”
My attendance at these shindigs is always a bit off-the-wall.
No desire to get drunk; nor yammer incessantly at all and sundry.
I was always sort of a misfit as a bus-driver, but you could say that about most.
I was college-educated (“majored in bus-driving,” I’d say); hardly anyone else was.
But the pay and benefits were good — thanks to the union.
It was supposed to be temporary at first, but I hung around 16&1/2 years; and probably woulda kept at it longer had not a stroke retired me on disability.
And Transit managers were always telling me I was their best employee. That was because -a) I had near-perfect attendance, and hardly ever took time off, and -b) I rarely hit anything, and never was charged with any accidents.
I.e. I was little trouble to management, although I think others qualified similarly.
Surgical strike — in-and-out in about 15 minutes, and then take dog for a long hike.
“Oh, goody! A different park. Squirrels that aren’t hip to a blood-crazed carnivore.”
Finally, return to Hazelwood.
More yammering.
Hardly anyone I knew was there; just a few Alumni officials, and many Alumni I don’t know.
Our union officials were there. Strange, a bit. They’re not retired.
“Cimo” (“see-MOH”), I said; “Dave Cimo; now I recognize the voice.”
We shook hands; first time ever. I avoided Cimo as a driver because he was always fiddling the system to avoid work yet get paid mightily.
Cimo was an “extra” operator, me a “regular.” Work the extra-board, and you could maximize your paycheck — I had other priorities.
“I retired about five years ago,” Cimo said.
We left long before the picnic was over. No reason to hang around. We didn’t even eat anything.
Errand time.
Off to Honeoye (“HONE-eee-oy’) Falls MarketPlace to buy cabbage for coleslaw.
Exit parking-lot to drive home; electronics recycling at the old Ev Lewis Ford dealership.
“Aw man,” I said; “if I’d known they were doing that, they could have my old ‘pyooter monitor.
“Well maybe I could take it back,” Linda says.
Monitor delivered, then downstairs into basement to see what other unused electronics we could recycle — various VCRs, and an old scanner and printer.
It was St. John’s Nursery School in Honeoye Falls.
“We also take old cellphones and printer cartridges.....”
“But there’s a recycling kiosk in the West Bloomfield Post-Office,” my wife said.
“That’s us!” the clerk said.
“But we’d prefer you drop them off directly at the school. The Senior-Citizens pick through the recycling kiosks.
Can you believe that?”

• “Ellison Park” is a large county park in the Irondequoit (“Ear-ahn-dee-KWAT”) Bay defile east of Rochester. It’s at the south end of Irondequoit Bay, and Irondequoit Creek flows through it. Irondequoit Bay used to be the outflow of the Genesee (“jen-uh-SEE”) river, but deposits from the Ice-Age cut it off. Many of those deposits are still in Ellison Park. The river now follows a new path up through Rochester, but Irondequoit Bay remains. “Blossom Road” traverses the park west-to-east. Numerous large lodges and shelters are in the park that can be reserved — and are. (The “Genesee River” is a south-to-north river that flows across Western New York, and empties into Lake Ontario north of Rochester. The vast Genesee valley was the nation’s first breadbasket, primarily because of the Erie Canal, which flowed through Rochester, and a small feeder canal down the valley. Rochester was at first a flour milling town.)
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• “We” is my wife of 41+ years, “Linda,” and I. Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office.
• “Honeoye Falls” is the nearest town to where we live in western New York, a rural town about five miles away. The supermarket therein is “MarketPlace.”
• “Ev Lewis Ford” was the Ford dealershop in Honeoye Falls, now out of business.
• “‘Pyooter” is computer.