27 January 2013

Mr. Squish and the causeheads.

Oh yeah… there was a war going on when “Mr. Squish” was running. For about a month, anyway.

The day the Persian Gulf War began, I was cranking out another edition of Black Culture Magazine at the house of Carl, my editor. I know; I’m so white I dare not go out in the sun for fear of spontaneously combusting. Yet for whatever reason, I worked for several African-American publications in the early 1990s. Probably ’cause the editors looked at my résumé, and not at the skin color of the honkey looking across the desk from them.

26 January 2013

Yep, it’s a class reunion year. Meh.

I graduated from high school in 1988. Ten years later—I didn’t plan it that way, but dropping out for several years, and switching majors upon going back in, didn’t help—I finally completed my bachelor’s degree in 1998. So every year that ends in -3 or -8 is an anniversary year: Fifteen for college, and 25 for high school.

Bethany University, previously Bethany College, was mismanaged to death two years ago. I don’t know if anyone from my class is planning to formally or informally put anything together for it. Or where we’ll meet. For the 10th reunion we met of course at the campus in Scotts Valley, California. This time around, we could meet anywhere. And I do mean anywhere: About a year ago, one graduating class decided to meet in Springfield, Missouri: Since the organizers and several of the graduates live there, they figured they’d accommodate themselves… guaranteeing the bulk of graduates, who live in California and Nevada, won’t make it. Oh well.

Of course, part of the reason you meet on campus (or near it, anyway) is so you can reflect on the memories and emotional attachments you have to the place.

13 January 2013

Mr. Squish, and giving up on your dreams.

When I was a kid, I used to watch The Love Boat. The parents tended to go out Saturday nights, which meant a neighbor girl would babysit us, and we’d get to stay up and watch Love Boat. And maybe we could talk her into staying up for Fantasy Island if we promised we’d never, ever tell on her. Sometimes she would.

The Love Boat, if you’ve never seen it, is about a cruise ship, its personnel, and the tons of celebrity guest stars.

11 January 2013

“Hey, I can see my house from here!” part 2.

I was gonna write about several of the places I’ve lived—as sort of a continuation of my previous post on the subject—but writing about my first place started getting longer and longer. So I figured, “Screw it,” and decided to just tell this story. I’ll save the other places for future posts.

After high school, for my first three years of college, I lived with Mom. I spent two years at Solano College, then a year at CSU Sacramento. I spent three semesters commuting to CSUS from Vacaville. Not an easy proposition.

09 January 2013

Hey, I can see my house from here!

Back in 2007, the first summer I worked at Camp Redwood Glen, we took the kids on a hike up to “Cupcake Hill” (so named for no reason I could tell; nothing there looks cupcake-like). As we were walking along the top of the ridge, I said, “Hey, I can see my house from here.”

The kids all thought I was kidding. It was a nice view, but come on.

“No, seriously,” I said, “it’s right there.” It really was. I could see the back porch and everything.

The fascinating thing about using Google Earth, if you’ve never monkeyed around with it, is you can see your house from space, and of course if you’ve got a pretty good memory for the places you’ve lived, you can “fly” to each of these places and take a look at them.

Well, most of them. I can’t remember the address of every place I’ve lived.