Christmas day my extended family and I were in my grandfather’s van, driving to New Orleans, where a plane would take me on a prized trip to Colorado. My grandmother sat in the middle seat, commenting about things to everyone in particular, while no one really wanted to listen. I made snide remarks to match each irrelevant one of hers, but only my dad sitting next to me in the drivers seat could catch them. “Stop it,” he warned but couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Respect your elders,” he choked between convulsive gasps for air among hysterical chuckles but then…
Classes have been going pretty good. Well, actually more than good. It’s great. I love all the courses I’m taking this semester. My sociology professor is a commie lib, but that’s just because he’s just a really compassionate guy (plus the fact that he’s resentful that he doesn’t get paid more than he does). I’ve been reluctant to get in any arguments with him because he seem so unsure of himself, but we have had a couple of good discussions. I’ve decided that I’m a functionalist capitalist, so if you want to label me anytime in the near future, you’ll…
(date unknown) Nathan’s grandfather has a M1 Garand (he’s sitting here telling me how to spell it). His dad wants to buy it back from him. Nathan’s been cleaning his grandfather’s handguns and rifles and in return gets to shoot them. He’s been cleaning an Ithaca .45 auto that’s also a WWII veteran. He says it shoots a tad bit to the left. His dad has finally started reloading all those 9 mm shells he’s been making us collect. Nathan says: “they shoot much better than some made by rookies at the police academy (they would just scoop the powder…
1-22-95 It was a beautiful day today, so Stephanie, Nathan, and I went outside. After playing with the dogs, crowding into the hammock, and climbing trees, we walked around the lake in our backyard. Evidence of our newly resident beavers was everywhere, from chewed stumps to gnawed twigs. We explored the area where the spring feeds our lake, thinking they might live in that vicinity, but we found nothing. “What do they do with all the wood?” asked Stephanie. There were only a few logs and sticks lying around compared with all the trunks of small trees and bushes pointing…
1-16-95 It’s amazing to me how much Stephanie is talking Southern these days. She was the most resistant to change when we’ moved here. She didn’t like the weather, she guarded against developing an accent (and required the rest of us to do so too), and she was ready at a moment’s notice to leave home and spend as much time in Colorado as she could. Suddenly, I find her stretching one syllable words into two, she’s not real anxious to leave for foreign parts anymore, and she’s under the impression that where we live is the most beautiful spot…