Yesterday afternoon, December 2, 2009, as I was walking up Connecticut Avenue toward home, in Washington, D.C., I happened to see Jim Shipman, formerly of Brookville Supermarket. He walked past me. When he saw me he smiled, seemingly involuntarily, but wouldn't look at me. He looked past me as if I was invisible. In the past, he usually said hello. I found Jim Shipman's behavior odd.
Years ago, I had formed the paranoid opinion that Jim Shipman was being made aware, on a daily basis, of confidential information concerning me -- about my psychiatric treatment, my job-related issues, and other personal matters.