One of my friends, when we were eleven, at the Eaton’s department store, sat in a wheelchair. He helped himself to it, there happened to be one there. I wheeled him around. He turned one of his feet as if it was paralyzed and people made a point of not making eye contact with us, so as to look like they were not looking at us. It made it easy to steal. We were such horrible shits. We stole two double albums. WAR’s Why Can’t We Be Friends and Frank Zappa’s Freak Out. We took them to the bathroom and once inside he placed them under his coat which was under his ass. Later we went back to the store and said they were birthday presents and could we get our money back, the days before you had to show receipts.

There was a young woman who played the coffee house and got cancer and asked me for help organize a record of her work. She had a difficult relationship with her father but was hoping he would support her financially to make her record. I walked her through the costs, what she needs, where to go. It meant so much to complete before she died. I liked the fact that she played piano, not many people did at Fat Alberts. Her tastes were very corny, I didn’t tell her, what would be the point? I think it was often Phil Collins. She fell in love with another woman and I don’t recall if they met there or not but the other woman was in a wheelchair and Bill, an older songwriter told me he liked her for being in love with someone whose motion was restricted because not everyone do that.

In the songwriting class people were given words randomly to write with. They said I couldn’t hide behind being the teacher and had to do it too. I was given “wheelchair”.