It was 8:15 on a Saturday morning. I had been awake since before 7:00.
Let's be clear here: I don't do before-seven-o'clock on a Saturday morning. Life circumstances that forces anyone out of bed before, say, 9:45 on Saturday morning is simply sadism engineered by The Man. But there I was, up, out and about because my kid has the nerve to want to improve his chances for a better future by taking the SAT. What's worse is it was completely overcast so I couldn't even head downtown for some nice urban shots in the dewy early morning light.
Therefore I was meandering as I had some time to kill before photography class--driving around a part of town that used to be my stomping ground; the school sponsoring the SAT is my high school alma mater. I get up to that part of town periodically and always drive around a bit to check out the lay of the land. It's amazing, isn't it, the changes that can happen to a major street over the years? The building I'm always most nostalgic about, other than the high school itself, is the one that used to be a bowling alley. We actually learned to bowl during the winter months of PE my freshman year and we walked to that bowling alley, where Coach Burtschi expected us to keep score by hand. The bowling alley also had a snack bar, and oftentimes after school my friends and I would go hang out there. They served Mr. Pibb. Plus they had a Pac Man machine.
The building, amazingly, is still there but the business is long gone. Tucked in next door these days is a laundry mat.
Which is where I met Elizabeth.
She had gotten behind on the chore over the past week because one of her daughters was in the hospital. The little girl has an immune-deficiency disorder and bites, scrapes, abrasions, etc. can turn into impetigo in short order. Her body has a hard time fighting the infection and she requires IV antibiotics to get rid of them. Summertime is worse.
Elizabeth, her father calls her "Beth", married her high-school sweetheart; he's now active duty in the Marines. He just signed on for another tour of duty.
"So you're going to have to move around a lot, I guess?"
"We just bought a house, so I'm staying here."
As it turns out, Elizabeth works at the laundry mat on the weekends. She doesn't usually bring her clothes to wash with her, but right now the dryer at home is broken. She has to pay to do her laundry, but she gets reimbursed the expense in her paycheck. A small perk.
She's also bi-lingual, English and Spanish, and helped me purchase chicken tamales from a man who came in peddling his wife's cooking for some extra money. I bought a baker's dozen for dinner that night which set me back $12. They were still warm. ->
Let's be clear here: I don't do before-seven-o'clock on a Saturday morning. Life circumstances that forces anyone out of bed before, say, 9:45 on Saturday morning is simply sadism engineered by The Man. But there I was, up, out and about because my kid has the nerve to want to improve his chances for a better future by taking the SAT. What's worse is it was completely overcast so I couldn't even head downtown for some nice urban shots in the dewy early morning light.
Therefore I was meandering as I had some time to kill before photography class--driving around a part of town that used to be my stomping ground; the school sponsoring the SAT is my high school alma mater. I get up to that part of town periodically and always drive around a bit to check out the lay of the land. It's amazing, isn't it, the changes that can happen to a major street over the years? The building I'm always most nostalgic about, other than the high school itself, is the one that used to be a bowling alley. We actually learned to bowl during the winter months of PE my freshman year and we walked to that bowling alley, where Coach Burtschi expected us to keep score by hand. The bowling alley also had a snack bar, and oftentimes after school my friends and I would go hang out there. They served Mr. Pibb. Plus they had a Pac Man machine.
The building, amazingly, is still there but the business is long gone. Tucked in next door these days is a laundry mat.
Which is where I met Elizabeth.
She had gotten behind on the chore over the past week because one of her daughters was in the hospital. The little girl has an immune-deficiency disorder and bites, scrapes, abrasions, etc. can turn into impetigo in short order. Her body has a hard time fighting the infection and she requires IV antibiotics to get rid of them. Summertime is worse.
Elizabeth, her father calls her "Beth", married her high-school sweetheart; he's now active duty in the Marines. He just signed on for another tour of duty.
"So you're going to have to move around a lot, I guess?"
"We just bought a house, so I'm staying here."
As it turns out, Elizabeth works at the laundry mat on the weekends. She doesn't usually bring her clothes to wash with her, but right now the dryer at home is broken. She has to pay to do her laundry, but she gets reimbursed the expense in her paycheck. A small perk.
She's also bi-lingual, English and Spanish, and helped me purchase chicken tamales from a man who came in peddling his wife's cooking for some extra money. I bought a baker's dozen for dinner that night which set me back $12. They were still warm. ->
1 comment:
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