Between Islands, Just Floating There

Farther and farther from the boat, feeling ourselves ease down the food chain, we drifted and drifted. And a great big school of fish—little silver ones—appeared suddenly and without warning. And they were everywhere. And you could hear them. Millions of tiny popping sounds all around, in every direction. We held hands.

Ypsilanti

 

When we arrived, a surly woman cleaning up behind the bar was there to greet us.

“Where you boys from?”

“Boston.”

“Boston where?”

“Massachusetts.”

Pleasantries were exchanged. The conversation continued.

There had been a riot at a club just around the corner the night before, she explained. Dozens of people had locked themselves in here for safety, she said. If we cared to look across the street, we could still see a policeman's blood on the curb.

As we had around three hours to kill before we went on, we courteously excused ourselves, got back into the van and made our way to the hotel.

For the next two hours, we sat—two to a bed—and watched a martial arts movie on tv. No one said a word.

When it was time to head back, we shuffled silently into the van. Someone put Metallica on the radio. For Whom The Bell Tolls.

It was very loud.

And very funny.

Hero Homework

One of the first things they asked me to do was submit a photo of my hero. It was a cute get-to-know-you kind of a thing. Everyone had done it, leaving the kitchen's partition wall crowded with little portraits.

Here, Einstein. There, Madonna. And all manner of hero in between.

Weeks of ignoring the request segued seamlessly into weeks of laboring over a decision. Who to choose? What about me should my choice represent? Whose picture would one care to look at lunch after lunch? Had my co-workers been stumped so?

Anyways. Once I decided, I never looked back.

A Funny Thing To Picture Me Doing

The Bridge Cafe connects the library to the Robert Crown Center, where some of Hampshire's athletic-type stuff happens. It was named "the Bridge" because, in the architect's view, it links intellectual pursuits (the mind) with physical ones (the body), which is an odd and funny thing for a cafe to do.

For four years, I swept, buffed and dusted that bridge every morning, five days a week... a sleepy caretaker with a high-powered vacuum and some time to think.

Joe, Who Shared Insights Inspiring and Frightful

He was going to teach his daughter everything... and you could see how much it would mean to him. Mountaineering, bicycle maintenance, philosophy, history and on and on... the curriculum would take decades to get through, and form this stunning succession of moments in time that both of them — father and daughter — would always have to think back fondly on and smile over. Its architecture was sprawling, with branches that spiraled off in all directions.

He spoke with great pride, in sentences that sprung up from some deep paternal place, a prehistoric reserve of fatherly sentiment that every man-creature caring for a child had instinctively drawn from since the beginning of time.

In the company of such powerful forces of nature, I seemed to shrink some... thinking over and over to myself: What curriculum will I offer?

Yikes.

Raymond, Who Presided Over A Kingdom That Was Not His Own

An ugly end it was. Unceremoniously tucked between garbage cans, planks of wood and all manner of discarded household appliance, staring up into the streetlight with those baby blues, the rain pecking at his cheeks. A long way from his lofty living room perch, where he watched a decade of my life come and go. An ugly end. And no dignity to it.

I Look Forward To Remembering This Fondly

Most often, the last time a thing happens comes and goes, and it isn't until after the thing has happened for the last time that you realize it can't be repeated.

Sometimes, you know a thing is happening for the last time just as it happens, and you can enter into it with an appreciation that illuminates the thing. Though, in being illuminated, the thing is changed, and the last time it happened is already behind you.