Ten Feet

My first campus job was as a transcriptionist, typing up taped interviews for Germans from Russia Bibliographer Michael Miller. I was seeking some of my own writing samples the other night, and going a little deeper than The Spectrum, found this.

Erik wondered why I cried. I can still feel the graininess of the sand in my hair, in my not-so-white-anymore canvas shoes, and in my bra, after the sandbag line. You'd cry, too, with sand in your bra. But I will also never forget how it seemed to put a spring in everyone's step when Sam backed up the Y94 truck and blared music out the back. Lasered onto a frame in my mind is the view out of the Y studio, across the park, and the elderly apartment building's roof sticking out of the Red.

That was the year I first rode an airplane. I shook Al Gore's hand when he came to check us out. That was the year I turned 21. Thanks, Heather. Cranberry juice never has been the same.

This year, when Denver and New York are getting so much snow, they'll really need our prayers in another month or so, depending on how fast that all melts. Everywhere has its own thing, my beloved brother's beloved Nicole and I agreed, as we decided just where is the perfect place. Because hovercraft RVs aren't commonplace as yet, I guess we will just have to pick a spot, then accept, adapt, and continue. And Always Give Something Back.