It really made my week when I saw how many of you tuned in for “Feathers” last Monday. For years, I’ve been writing these stories about bird ladies and bus riders, juvenile delinquents and pet store thieves and the like, and filing them away in a plastic storage box in my parents’ garage, along with a pile of moth-eaten china dolls and my childhood eraser collection (partially chewed by my brother). It is tremendously rewarding to share them with live beings instead. (The china dolls were incredibly non-responsive readers.) Thank you for reading.
This week, I’m returning to the patient and long suffering “Waterproof & Green.” If you haven’t read the beginning of this story, or if you need a refresher, click here to go to installment one. Otherwise, read on below for an except from last week, leading into this week’s installment.
Excerpt from previous installment of Waterproof and Green:
My sponsor at the soup kitchen is a woman named Deena. Deena is a former convict, destined always to be either a convict or a soup kitchen worker, because of a misguided decision during an earlier stage of her life, when she allowed someone to liberally tattoo her forehead and cheeks with rudimentary sketches of what appeared to be burning crosses, thereby barring herself from the job market for life. Deena says I am a more hopeful case than she ever was. I have no noticeable burning crosses, or objectionable physical emblems of any kind, on my visible skin, and I even went to college for nine months. What I gained from college is hard to say, other than a pot habit and the permanent bitterness of my parents, but Deena says it’s a blessing not to be discounted that I escaped without any noticeable, irreversible, offensive body art.
I guess it’s easy to take for granted the defects we never had. Continue…