The Basement’s Leaking
I am a proud, self-proclaimed nomad, always looking for fresh pasture. I can pack my essentials and be on the road in under five minutes. A relative once said that it’s easy for me to be nomadic because I don’t actually own anything. But in my eyes, I possess everything that any modern-day nomad could possibly need. A St. Croix 9 1/2 foot, 6-weight fly rod, a brand-new laptop, an automobile and a GPS. Oh yea, some clothing and a few personal hygiene products. But while me and my Buick camel can easily travel to anywhere in a moment’s notice, I do have a menagerie of memories stored in the basements of my happily-divorced parents. I’ve never watched the television shows “Hoarders” or “Intervention”, but one of my family members just might, one day soon, nominate me to star on an upcoming episode of both.
Now remember, after reading this, that you’ll think to yourself, “he couldn’t have possibly made that stuff up.”
I gave away my Taiwanese, woman’s boobs-shaped, wooden massage tool and the replica Iranian battle axe and chain mail helmet. It certainly would be silly to have things like that just lying around for no reason. I only horde important crap, things worthy of precious storage space.
While looking for a hammer the other day, I stumbled upon my copy of an “acknowledgement of registration” from the Selective Service System. You never know, 35 years later, when your military ติดต่อufabetเว็บหลัก draft status might come up during an employment interview. Along with this document, are the test results that revealed what career in which I might succeed in the near future. “You should consider ‘Truck Driver’. ” Dammit, that’s where I went wrong in life! Stupid restaurants. The results from my DAT test (Differential Aptitude Test) actually seem a little bit more on-target. Abstract Reasoning and Verbal Reasoning-in the 95 percentile. Space Relations-30%. I can figure it out myself, just don’t stand so close. That’s how I read it.
In one box of treasures are my stuffed bears that I palled around with as a child. Smokey and Jo Jo. Don’t tell ’em if you see ’em, but they look worse-off than I do after all of these years. Now the name “Smokey”, I understand. Smokey the Bear. Belt, hat, badge and everything. But Jo Jo? Inspired by Jo Jo White/ point guard for the Boston Celtics? He hadn’t even been drafted into the NBA at this point. Who knows.
There are piles and piles of Valentines Day cards from elementary school. There were no transgender cards available back then. Everyone gave everyone a card. “Be my Valentine, signed Ralph”. Not to be a homophobe there Ralph, but I’ve still got a leery eye on you, even after 45 years.