Whatever the route taken, all highways and expressways eventually give way to the
local streets in the Bronx. Even Mrs. Helmsclaw (English) who had been teaching for
seventeen years confessed to twinges of anxiety once she came off the highway. The
streets assumed the strangeness of foreign territory. "I know it's irrational. I've
travelled these streets for years. I still get a little nervous coming in."
Pressed to explain what she meant she talked about the narrowing of access; the flow
was gone; in its place, a sense of life at the mercy of forces beyond her control. On the
other hand, going home began with an almost desparat dash, a straight line of unstop-
pable intent to the exit road; then you accelerated with relief onto the highway, free to
chose your lane, your speed. "You know what it is…? It's like coming into any community
for the first time…fear of the unknown, is what it is."
Coming from a different direction, Judy Weiner would have agreed. She came all the
way from Yonkers and she took the Bronx River Parkway. She was almost always late,
but was spared any embarassment since she worked in the Special Education department
and had to have a teacher's aide with her in the room. The aide, Mrs. Contreras, was
always punctual and covered for her; she got the students on task and kept them
occupied until Judy Weiner showed up, all flustered and weighed down with books, bags
and an air of having survived a tumultuous journey.
"I'm sorry, I got held up," she'd say, peeling off her coat. "Everything was moving so
slowly…I couldn't find anywhere to park. I dropped my keys in the snow. I thought I'd
never find them…I was beginning to wonder how I'd get home…O my God, it's hot and
stuffy in this room."
(from "Ah Mikhail, O Fidel!" a novel by N.D.Williams,2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 