In my Father’s Day post, I noted that the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, part of the New York Public Library, had the Charles E. Harris World War II memorabilia collection, 1944-1971 [bulk 1944-1945]. My father had, I only discovered recently, been part of the all-Black 57th Ordnance Ammunition Company in Germany in 1946.

Moreover, I wrote: ” This means that at some point I need to go to the NYPL to see whether Les Green appears in the documents.” Since my wife and I were going to NYC, my first stop needed to be the NYPL’s main branch. I had a library card, available to any New York State resident, but it had lapsed. (I’ve also been a member of the library, making an annual contribution, for at least a decade.)

I got my renewal even before we checked into the timeshare. Then I registered for the Special Collections account. But I wasn’t sure I’d have a chance to use it because the space in the Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Books Division is limited.
Change of plans
My wife and I got our theater tickets in Times Square, but we had over seven hours to spend. We started walking toward a museum. But I needed to sit and rest, so I pulled out my phone and checked messages. I had an appointment at the Schomburg for 11 a,m. Oddly, I received it at 11:25 and didn’t read it until 11:45, but the notice said my spot was good until 5 pm.

Directions on my phone said I could get to the facility on 135th Street via the 1, 2, or 3 train. But the directions lied. The #1 left us at least 20 minutes away (did I mention it was hot and humid?) Ultimately, I found a kind letter carrier who told us we needed to go downtown to 96th Street, then take the #2 or #3 back uptown to 135th. The facility was right across the street.

The Harris collection, as I figured, only covered 1944 and 1945, and didn’t touch on my dad’s service dates. Nevertheless, I found the information in the log he kept to be fascinating.

Afterward, we got a recommendation for a local restaurant. Unfortunately, it was hotter inside than it was outside. So we got food from a street vendor, found a place to sit in the shade, and then returned to Times Square, where we went to a coffee shop before heading to the theater.
I’m not surprised that I was sad to hear about the passing of Dolly Parton. (Do I need a series of descriptors for her – singer, actor, philanthropist, et al.? I think not.) But the melancholy frankly astonished me.
One of the things my daughter did quite regularly when she was home from college was go upstairs to her room to watch Love Island USA. Occasionally, she subjected her parents to it by watching it in the living room.
On its very last day at the Spectrum 8 Theatre in Albany, my wife and I attended a matinee of the
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