daily from Midtown East to Tom’s River

Puberty age boys need their father, but my 1996 born son voice has changed, and he grew tall quickly, but  . . but . . . yes, today was the day.  For years now calls from my phone to his house were blocked, and for two days I rang through to the voice mail.  Coincidence?  No, my 1996 born son said he reversed the block, and I am having my own private celebration that feels like New Years Eve in Times Square.  I could not be happier.  So I review.  With my late son, David, it was clear this young man had an active father even through my activity could not be seen by others, he felt my presence (maybe feared my presence), and he was burried prematurely on a nice trip to being the man God place him here to be.  Did I get credit?  Yes, abundant credit.  Then, my 1991 born daughter seemed to need nothing from me, and . . . and . . . daughters are a mystery.  I am a man, which means I was never a girl, and my qualifications to predict what a daughter needs from a father and when are . . are . . . like guessing a lottery number.  Then, my 1996 born son is passing through puberty, which is something I have done.  Is the fact that he reversed the block of my phone to his phone a coincidence?  Maybe, but who cares, this is great news.  Again, I am having a private celebration that could compare to New Years Eve on Times Square.  Joseph Faragi was my favorite passenger tonight.  I was attacking a line of people waiting for a cab, which is as conversational and comfortable as a police line up, when Joe joined the end of the line.  I can’t describe what he did or what he said, but I can say it was a pleasure to leave the others behind and take Joe to his car parked at 58th Street near Park for his daily trip to Tom’s River, New Jersey.  Other passengers of note include the marketer of charter schools who went to 13th Street and First Avenue, Manhattan, New York, the Brazilians who went to the Rock, and the American and Scott hook up.  Three years and an ocean between them, and there is still magic.  If they were to ask my opinion, I would say, “American: propose before she gets away”.  As I told my first passengers who I took to Berkley on 43rd Street between Madison Avenue and Fifth Avenue from GCT, “you are my first ride, so my one-dollar-per-person or one-dollar-per-block price has the potential to kick start a good night”, and it did.