July=Dinner Picnic

Lake, ocean or river, no matter, with the heat and humidity of July beating down in oppressive waves, water is the only salvation! My best childhood memories involve family and sand and food and water while the fiery orb finally settles down into the east coast horizon. My mother planned our late-day excursions around a dinner picnic, mostly to include my father, who worked through July at the hospital, but also because we are a fair-skinned bunch and crisp-up pretty easily.
State parks with public beaches basically empty out by 5:00, yet remain open to dusk, which in July means until almost 9:00. But by late afternoon most beach-goes pack up their picnic baskets and portable radios, their water toys and sandy tots, and head back into the still heat of summer evenings. But not us. With 80% of the other folks gone we had miles of beach to ourselves and we splashed and surfed about in the waves like we owned the place before wrapping up in towels and opening the basket of sandwiches. While eating we watched the last golden rays shoot across the blue horizon. Even today I am surprised over how few people do this.

Complex Relationships

As I arrive in Louisville for my 2nd annual reading of AP English Literature exams, I am greeted by a host of familiar faces and a few cherished friends. We are here to score Advanced Placement essays for the next seven days. Working from 8 until 5 among 12,000+ other readers. We will read each essay as if it were crafted by our prized students. We will read in silence, calibrate several times a day to keep our scores even, be periodically back-read by table leaders, who in turn are back-read by section leaders, all the way up the line to the chief reader.

Ode to Lucky Panties

Perhaps you are thinking an ode is too elevated for mere panties, but I’m here to tell you I experienced a pair of seemingly ordinary panties that transcended the material world like no other talisman… Once on, luck ran through my day like water after a deluge, like electricity after a surge, like dandelions after the rain, like…well you get the idea, their power was unlike any ancient amulet or rabbit’s foot or leprechaun’s pot or four-leafed clover. The good fortune or whatever mystical magical inference you want to label, these panties had it. Yes, had, but before I reveal their sad end, I will start at their mythical beginning…