Category Archives: Michigan
My American Saturdays began with a coffee and a crescendo of college football media. Blogs, Twitter, and ESPN College Gameday made for a surround-sound cacophony of predictions, punditry, and hot takes.
I was suddenly aware of everything: the squelch of the slider door’s rubber seal releasing as my brother came in from the yard. The creak and crash of the screen door to the garage behind my dad.
Like a tube of toothpaste gettin’ squeezed out,
The rest of that dishwasher slowly eased out
We receive a hearty “Welcome, hullo! Glad you’re here!” from the blueberry man, who is sitting in a plastic patio chair next to an old truck filled with boxes and buckets.
I’m not always good at saying what I mean to say, so here: Mom likes to tell me how you could soothe my crying as a baby by carrying me around the house, pointing out people in picture frames, and telling me stories about them.
With strength in numbers, Cadets was wildly successful at my church. And then there was our paltry GEMS organization.
Riding the bus requires a release of control. The person using a wheelchair has the priority now; whatever my plans were, they can wait. We’re both riding the same bus, and we’ll get there when we get there.
Here’s to people and their things. Here’s to not liking sports and to nose piercings, to back tattoos and bro tanks, to longboards, to reading the newspaper each morning with a cup of coffee.
He’s just one guy, he won’t be around forever, and he’ll probably never run into a black person for the rest of his life. No harm, no foul, right?