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Fifteen Credits

Temple University (aka the first three years)

I tell that joke whenever people ask me what college was like, but it’s a joke only insomuch as it wasn’t the best part of my life. The ten years part was very real. But at least it was only 10 years when you add in my two years of graduate school. That makes it better, right?

What I miss about college:

* Wearing sweatpants every day, all day Continue reading “Fifteen Credits”

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I Did What?: My Sordid Job History, Volume 2

The dog chased me down the street, his mouth afroth, drooling and flinging his foam and spittle every which way as he closed in. My sneakers seemed to make impressions in the sidewalk as I literally flew down across the avenue, but he was gaining. And I was tiring. I dodged into the nearest alley, wheezing and panting for my life. My messenger bag had somehow flung wide open during my journey, and a stream of papers had flown out, falling pell mell in the street, on the sidewalk, and in the yards and bushes that punctuated my escape route. I think I finally lost him, too, with that last sprint. But it had been raining, and all the flyers were ruined. Oh well. That was how I ended my first job.

We all remember our first jobs. Well, most of us, anyway. Some of us were barely ten, raking lawns for the neighbors to get a little pocket change. Others were given odd jobs by people in the neighborhood who needed odd jobs done. Still others were babysitters for kids who were nearly as old as they were. I wasn’t allowed to do any of that, so my first job actually came when I was 16, when I began working for the Philadelphia Vision Center passing out flyers. I discussed it briefly here, about the year I was Santa Claus, but there was a lot more to it than that. Continue reading “I Did What?: My Sordid Job History, Volume 2”

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The Haunting

The old playground is usually empty this time of day, especially after Old Man Farthing hung himself with an extension cord from the swing apparatus a year ago last Tuesday. They say his ghost still haunts the swings on occasion, the village gossips do, Verena Stone and Jill Swingholm. The two of them sit on … Continue reading The Haunting

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Trying to Sound Smart

Want to sound smart or want to be smart?

I remember when I was six years old and I wanted to sound just like my mama. I wanted to sound “grown up.” I would go around the house repeating what she said, so I could sound smart, but I would get it all mixed up. When I wanted to say “shirt” and it came out “shit,” though, that was the final straw. My mother sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms that if I couldn’t tell anyone the meaning of the word then I couldn’t say it. So that was the end of my career of swearing until much later in life.

However, I did take what she said to heart, which is when I started trying to read the dictionary. Continue reading “Trying to Sound Smart”