CHAPTER 2

Some people work inside all day

Ain’t nothing wrong with that

I just roam the citywide

Collecting coins in my hat

I’m just a panhandler

Just a panhandler

Guess I’ll panhandle till the day I die

I work for a living

Strumming and a singing

Please throw me your dollars and dimes

Grand Central Station’s cruddy yellow light and grimy marble walls greeted me off the subway escalator like a favorite harmonica. I slung my guitar bag over my shoulder, and pulled the folding hand truck strapped with my music gear past two military men strapped with large side arms to the newsstand near the Graybar Tunnel that lets out on Lexington Avenue. After sidestepping a clerk slicing open bundles of newspapers with a razor knife, I grabbed the third paper from the top off the middle rack. Then I approached the familiar and fine-looking Indian woman working the register.

“So how has your day been, my musician friend?” she asked as I handed her a dollar.

“It’s still early, but thank you for asking,” I replied.

“And thank you for answering,” she said matter-of-factly.

We both laughed easily as I took the change.

Then I tucked the paper under my arm and wheeled back past the sentries and through the wide, low arch leading down a ramp to the dimly lit food court. The air smelled of noxious train fumes, industrial-strength disinfectants and garbage. I cut through the shellacked hardwood benches and large chairs in the center waiting area, and bought a coffee at the stand across from Track 104. Then, java in hand, I went over to one of the two dining areas where the light is marginally better. Many of the tables were unoccupied, and I chose one against the far wall. After unloading my music gear next to the chair across the table, I sat down, pulled the tab back on my coffee container and opened the paper to the sports section.

The New York Knicks, who were already on a four-game skid, had lost again—this time on a buzzer beater. Basketball has always been my favorite sport and the Knicks were the Manhattan team, but they certainly weren’t the Yankees. They remind me more of baseball’s Cubs in my native Chicago. Perennial losers. But still the Knicks were the only show in town so I kept up with them.

After reading sports, I turned to the front section where the main news of the day was the worsening economy. Pundits were calling