Tag: memories

Gremlins and Ghettos.

But what I learned through those times, and have never lost sight of, is the fact that sometimes plans and opportunities don’t work out and that we always need friends, family, and people of good will to get through. I’ve had to work incredibly hard in my life, perhaps too hard at times, but I never would have made it without the people (and the universe) that gave me a break and a hand along the way. The myth of the self-made man (or woman) is really just that, a myth. It has it’s uses. But none of us really make it alone

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I Did a Bad, Bad Thing, Part II.

[Part 2 of a series. You can find Part 1 here.] You see, Vince was a pre-med student. Illness was his thing. Jeremy, his roommate, was a germophobe. It wasn’t the first time Vince had jerked him around with pseudo-medical…

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Allen Point: Tree Topper

Moving to Allen Point was, for a five year-old boy, like moving into Christopher Robin’s Hundred Acre Wood or onto the island of the Swiss Family Robinson. “The Point,” as we called it, was a magical world of its own.…

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Allen Point: Counting Down the Sun

Mrs. Yates was a formidable woman. Agnes May Allen Yates, our landlord,  cane in one hand, and a continuously lit cigarette in the other, ruled over the middle section of her father’s domain. She lived in the apartment above the…

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Allen Point: Casting the Last Stone

Tom’s special delight was to throw stones at you so that you couldn’t come near the bus stop. And, as I said, he could throw a very long way. Sometimes you had to stand all the way back where the drive came up. When the bus came, you had to wait until Tom got on the bus and then race out of hiding to try and catch it before it took off. Tom would look out the back window and laugh at you running to get on, or just sit down with a smirk and wait for you. It was ironic, having to run to get picked on again. He got a big kick out of it.

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Falling Asleep At The Wheel.

I probably thought of having one of the beers I had bought to drink before heading to bed on a non-school day. The sun probably began to rise over Mt. Rainier, and as the rays began to creep over Hale’s Pass and the apple orchard, the sound of gravel startled me awake to face the telephone pole at the sharp turn at the end of the straightaway.

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