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Notes and non-notes. Reals and surreals.

Two decades ago I worked in a recreation center for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. One guy showed up every night in a Mets jacket. I’ll call him Antonio. He was a man of two words: Gary Carter. I’d always greet him as he came off the bus with “Hi, Antonio!” He’d reply, “Gary Carter!” and motion as if he were swinging a bat. I never knew why he liked Carter, but he talked about little else. So I wrote to Carter to tell him all about Antonio. Carter sent back a color photograph inscribed with the message, “To Antonio, Best Wishes, Gary ‘Kid’ Carter.” The next time Antonio came off the bus, I said, “I have something for you!” “Gary Carter!” Antonio replied. “Yes!” I said, handing him the photograph. Antonio froze. Then he said, “Thank you, Bill.” I didn’t know he knew my name. Bill Taverner Easton, Pa.
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