There was a point when I was in elementary school that my mom was pretty much my best friend. When I first started school and she still had her paper route she would sometimes let me stay home sick so we could play hooky. We’d get McDonald’s for lunch and rent movies like Splash from Blockbuster. We’d laugh and joke. Probably make fun of things as we were wont to do. There’s a scene from the movie “Say Anything” when Diane Court’s father is trying to figure out what’s going on with her and he implores her, “You know you can say anything to me.” That’s how it was with my parents, I could say anything to them.
I remember once I got old enough to start going out with friends and start making big girl mistakes they sat me down and told me: No matter what you do, what happens in your life whether you kill someone, get pregnant, rob a bank, anything. We will help you. I never forgot that.
When I was really little, before I started school, mom worked a paper route and many times I would go with her. She would wake me up at three in the morning, make us each a cherry Pop-Tart wrapped in a napkin and a little glass of milk for the road. We would drive out to a bank where all the paper deliverers met and rolled their papers for the morning. Then we would drive through the Trailer Haven trailer park while it was still pitch dark and mom would cruise through the lanes and whip the papers out the window of her Toyota while she played Fleetwood Mac.Continue reading →
I just finished reading “Kaffir Boy” by Mark Mathabane and let me tell you: wow. I actually cried at the end. Tears of joy, mind you. A friend of mine read it when he was in high school and never turned it back in. I guess you could call that stealing? Regardless, the theft was for the greater good because now the book is being read and enjoyed rather than cultivating new and more toxic strains of black mold in some Palm Bay High School storage room. Continue reading →
I just finished reading “A Girl Named Zippy” by Haven Kimmel and really enjoyed it. It’s a collection of memoirs from her childhood in a very small Indiana town. Zippy’s friends reminds me of my friends growing up and how all we’d do is ride bikes and get in trouble. Her father, a man of few, yet important, words is described as smelling like Lucky Strikes and the inside of an old pick-up truck, which is exactly how I imagined him to smell. Her mother rarely left the couch, except to go to church, and was always reading science fiction books. In fact, Kimmel’s next book, “She Got Up Off the Couch,” is a book that focuses on her mother and the heroic act of, you guessed it: getting off the couch.
“A Girl Named Zippy” is great book and I highly recommend it.