Monday, August 25, 2008
Diary: August 1987.
I have several specific memories of this month, but only a few of them are certainly correct.
This was the summer, if I am remembering correctly, when I took Judo lessons on the Eastside with most of the kids from my block: there were Stanleys and Teslars and Lameres there. I never did very good; never got past the white belt, actually, but the structured time together helped us to not hate each other so much. Jeff was always my worst enemy, and he had momentarily become my best friend. But all of this was from July. So here's what I remember of August:
At the beginning of August I became obsessed with skateboards, because the tough kids down on Tuscola - Daniel Tesler and Josh Spencer - they both listened to Michael Jackson's Bad, and said that it wasn't as good as Thriller. Jeff agreed with them, and though he was younger than me, I was happy to have a fresh start with these kids. They didn't care about Star Wars as much as I did, but they knew about Michael Jackson, and I did not, and I liked the way the music sounded, and anyway, the skateboards were fast and rattly.
So I asked for a skateboard for my birthday.
The birthday party was a little low key, because I just invited Jeff over for a sleep over. My parents got me a skateboard, but it wasn't of the thrasher variety, painted with skulls and zombies and flames like my friends. It was, in fact, a Bill the Cat skateboard, which was far edgier in meaningful ways, though of course I didn't appreciate this at the time. No matter: Jeff bought be a bunch of decals and stickers of robots with rotting faces and the cybernetic undead, and maybe even an AC/DC decal.
For my party, we rode up and down Gold Avenue, which was a little rough on a skateboard, because the road hadn't ever been repaved that I remembered and the asphalt was always pretty bumpy; things you might not notice on a bike, but make a difference with a skateboard. We stayed up and played Double Dragon, and watched that movie about the kid who goes to Space Camp (I really don't know what the plot was though) but Jeff fell asleep before the end, and it was probably around two or three in the morning before I went to sleep.
I have a lot of assorted images from the rest... mainly other parts of town; car washes and Mexican restaurants, but I can't remember if I saw these then or if I'm coalescing other memories, simply because the seemed to fit the mood. This was a month when I was interested in being "tough" because I equated it with "intensity," but I really didn't know much about what either meant.
Where were you in August 1987?
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Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Diary: August 1997.
I started out by turning nineteen years old, but beyond that, this month is very hazy to me. I slogged through the first drafts for Urbantasm, really not knowing exactly what I was getting myself into (ie. now, a decade later...) Although I'd been developing Urbantasm for a rough year at this point. This all meant that I was in the family room about three or four hours a night typing. It was very slow. It's amazing to me how slow my typing was back then. It would take over an hour to turn over a single double-space page.
Still, a few of those chapters haven't been cut, though their content has changed drastically.
I was also running tech for Flint Youth Theatre's production of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown which was an ecstatically fun production, and so I was spending a lot of the time with the cast/crew: Josh, Angie, Demetrius, etc. etc. The production was over near the end of August, though. Likewise, the "major" event of the summer had been my participation in the Young Playwrights Conference in New York City. It was too soon to be in full gear preparing for college (orientation started on September 17th).
So I guess I'm left with the impression that August was kind of a staying period before and after major events.
I do remember sitting on the front porch and eating chicken salad on warm evening's with my family. I also remember a string of very frustrating guitar lessons. I finally remember spending a Saturday following Brandi (who is Lyn) and Melissa around the Renaissance Festival. But I think that most of these things actually happened in September. I can't say for sure.
Where were you in August, 2007?
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Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Diary: Michigan Trip, August 2007.
Last Wednesday, almost a week ago, I left work at 5:30 after crushing through a heavy load of caption updates. I took the train to the bus and the bus to the airport, and I got my ticket and a hot dog and a coffee and waited for the plane. My flight left on time and I read Hughes/Honour on the way, sitting next to a very talkative group of interior decorators heading home from a conference in Connecticut and a family in Tigers' caps and jerseys that had gone to three of four Detroit-Yankees games, the Yankee Stadium tour, and the Cyclones. We landed at eleven something in Romulus and I met Cody and Catherine in the baggage claim, and we drove home through Detroit. Michigan was twenty degrees warmer than New York. We listened to hip hop and a storm broke around Waterford, with lightning arcing down like a claw complete with an opposible thumb. It was a huge storm, but it blew over about the time we reached Flint, and the rest of the ride to Flushing went smoothly. We got in around one, and I sat up and talked with my parents for awhile before we all went to bed. I had a strange and compelling dream.
On Thursday, I got up early, and spent most of the morning book spelunking. Meanwhile, in downtown Flint, a large building collapsed. At 11:30, Catherine and Cody were ready to go to Band Camp, so we drove down to Oxford, which is midway between Lapeer and Pontiac. After I dropped them off at about one, the car was mine. I gassed up and drove back into Flint, making runs on the PHs (not home), the Crawfords (not home), and FYT (sleepy and nearly empty). Dejected, I went to the Atlas for a coney, two eggs and hash browns, and a half-dozen cups of coffee to raise my spirits. Flint is the greatest city in the whole wide world, but almost everyone I know there has moved away, so I often end up getting a little lonely while I'm there. My waitress was superlative, so I borrowed some of her energy and decided to think my way into a solution. I knew that I could find people if I was creative. At a little after four I paid my bill, fired up the radio, and took the Corunna road back toward Downtown. I went to Carriage Town to the Good Beans cafe, where I visited with Ken (who I haven't seen in a couple years). It turns out that he'd sent my wife and I a wedding gift but that it had been mislaid in Chicago because we'd already moved. But things seem to be going as well as can be expected in Carriage Town, and the local theaters have formed a consortium called L.O.F.T. – League of Flint Theatres – for mutual promotion. After exchanging information, I set out to find Lyn. I thought that I remembered what street she lived on, and I thought that I could remember the house. I knew that the street was off Fenton Road. But I didn't know where. After touring the whole stretch from Hemphill almost south to Grand Blanc, I arrived. It was good that it had taken so long; she had just gotten home. We spent the rest of the evening at her house, often on the porch, playing with Z and talking about music and friends. I was grateful. She gave me a lot of hip hop to check out. By eight it was starting to cloud over, though, and I had to pick up my wife from the airport. So I headed south on 23, which swung into 96 before looping into 275. I avoided the swollen storm that was making its way from west to east across Livingston and Oakland counties, got to Metro without incident, picked up the wife, and we made a stop at a Taco Bell populated entirely by emo boys. We called it the 'Emo Bell.' Back on 23, though, north of Brighton, we drove right into a second storm that dropped so much rain that I couldn't see anyone before me or behind me, and would've pulled over if I could've clearly seen where the shoulder stopped and started. When we finally got home, we repeated the process of the night before. Stay up, talk, and finally go to bed.
On Friday, I meant to go to a daily mass for St. Bartholomew. But I slept in. Evil, sinful me. I confirmed plans with Katie (who I'd finally reached after several months of trying), and my wife and I headed out to hit the Goodwill on Pierson Road. The Goodwill on Pierson Road was closed down. That's a real shame, because it always was the very best Goodwill. Instead, we hit the Goodwills on Saginaw and Center Roads. There are a lot of Goodwills in Flint, and our quick, efficient sweep netted several quite-cool shirts I saw at K-Mart back in 2003 but was too broke to afford, and a jacket for the wife. We continued on and picked up Cody and Catherine from Oxford; made it home by a bit after five. It was time to go meet Katie. We drove down to Genesee Valley and just as we were pulling off of Lennon Road, I heard something that I've never heard in New York. Tornado Sirens. There were two tornados in Fenton, which is generally considered to be about the most far flung of Flint's suburbs. Global warming schlobal schorming. Actually we'd left a nadir in the sticky!hot New York summer just to arrive for the most eventful weatherful week in the Midwest, since Chicago also got swamped. The storm held up David and Katie, but while they were waiting for it to blow over, my wife and I sat at the Bar Louis and drank martinis and beers. Then our friends arrived, and we visited with them for an hour, sharing information, talking about Flint and kids, and eating the largest appetizer plate of nachos I've ever imagined (seriously, the thing was as big as my head; easily worth two entrees). After an hour Dave and Katie had to take their kids to Katie's brothers wedding, but I did get to see her mom again, and Lily, who's grown so much that it's truly terrifying to me. Simon, on the other hand, was serious and silent. My wife went to get her hair cut, and we picked me up a pair of jeans and khakis, and a hoodie, because I've always worn Sam's, and it's too big for me.
On Saturday, I'd thought of going to the Crim. But I slept in. Evil, sinful me. Also, for the first day of our visit there was no major storm in Michigan. Which was fortunate, because it was also the day of my mom's party, which was outside. There was some mist and rain early in the day, but it cleared up in the early afternoon. First, I made a trip back to Genesee Valley to find my journal, which I'd left at Steve and Barry's the night before. I couldn't resist the opportunity to get a green tinted watch that caught my eye, and a matching silver watch for my wife, and two gothish rings from Hot Topic. Flint is a cheap place to get yourself blinged out. I got back in time to arrange a blitzkreig reunion with John and Carol Crawford at their house, and the wife and I were at home for good around three. Now all day long (and actually, for several days) my mom had been getting ready for the party this Saturday. It was an all-purpose party of sorts: my birthday, as well as my wife's, my brother's and sister's, my grandma's and aunt's, my sister's new job, my graduation, and my brother's pending graduation. When the weather was clear for good, we set up a tent out back and tables and chairs. We also had a plug-in fountain that Cody-the-engineer upgraded with rocks to be more effective. It all took a while to set up, but Peg came over. The work was manageable, and so we were able to go at a steady pace. Around six my grandma and aunt showed up, and so did family friends from Flushing. We ate salmon and chicken, pasta and couscous, brownies and ice-cream cake and a lot of bruschetta. Eventually, the sun went down, but we had light from Tiki torches and rice lights that Cody and I had put on a tree. It was gorgeous, and there weren't too many bugs; a perfect August evening. Late August. Because August is winding down. After the family friends had left, the rest of us went inside to the living room, and drank coffee, read cards and opened presents (mostly cards). I got a set of dice in a bag that Caitlin hand-knitted, and my Aunt gave me the third season of Taxi. The best part, of course, of these events is always the sitting-and-the-talking, and we managed to hold people awake until almost one.
On Sunday, I was supposed to go to mass, but I slept in too late. I did, however, go to the UU Church with Caitlin to see Cody and Catherine perform, and to touch base with Rita and various other ne'er-do-wells from my ancient past. Evil, sinful me! We took our time at the coffee hour, walked through the memorial garden, and finally got home around one. My wife and I went into Flushing to visit with grandma for awhile, and when we got home, my mom took us with Caitlin to see Hairspray in Birch Run. This was fun. The film was colorful and noisy, and set in Baltimore of all places. Afterwards, we took the back roads home to avoid the traffic on 75, and Cody and Catherine prepared us a three-course British meal. Leek soup, a potato stew (I don't remember what it was called), and berries with cream. Finally, Lisa came over and my wife and I went for a ride with her. We ended up at Angelos and ranged over every subject ever. We got home at 1:30, and Lisa drank some coffee and set out on her way.
Monday was crappy for various reasons. Almost all of them had to do with heading east again. But we said goodbye, and my dad gave us a ride to the airport. When my wife got home from class that night, we ate Indian food from Kinara's and watched our Rome DVDs. Next week, Cody and Catherine will be visiting again.
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Tuesday, August 21, 2007
In August, 1986.
Well, I turned eight.
I'm sure that a lot of things happened in August, 1986, but what I remember almost to the exclusion of everything else was the weekend of my birthday. We celebrated a couple days early because of the trip that weekend involved. I got a camera, and my grandparents came over. I got a picture of my step-grandfather sitting on our new couch in front of a quilt that my mother had knitted years before. After the trip, I would climb a rope ladder to a tree house in our front yard, and sit and read. I still played in the back yard on the swing set, and gradually expanded the radius of bike riding to take in everything between Tuscola and Montclare, Commonwealth and Franklin.
The trip itself:
For my birthday, my dad took me up to the Agowa Canyon Tour Train. We drove through Michigan, past Zilwaukee and over the Mackinac Bridge, over the Soo Locks and into Canada. We stayed in motels and ate pasties in the UP, and stopped at Castle Rock and Mackinac Island on the way back. It was one of the first times I recall feeling more adult. After all, these were great and grave landscapes – cliffs and channels – and there were large distances – time in the car – between them. For the first time, travel itself was exciting, and not just time that had to be tolerated between destinations.
Certainly one of the most significant weekends I remember from my childhood, and one which made me thirsty for more. From that point on, a trip with my dad was almost an annual adventure.
Where were you in August 1986?
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Monday, August 13, 2007
Diary: August, 1985.
I have no memories from August, 1985 that I trust. I know a bit about what was going on then, though. I was no longer attending Valley School, but my parents were home schooling. I turned seven years old. Field trips at this time consisted of going to the Saginaw and Lansing Zoos and the Impressions 5 museum. I didn't wander too far from home, but I think I was usually allowed to go over to the Teslers', the Lameres', and the Punklins' to play.
But I can't pick out any specific memory and say, "ah, yes, I believe that that is from August, 1985."
Where were you in August, 1985?
2 comments.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Diary: August, 2004.
Once again I was involved in the Ojai Playwrights Festival, and again I worked as a literary assistant to Director Abigail Deser. This time we were developing Susan Miller's project A Map of Doubt and Rescue. As before, I was immensely impressed by the intensity and density of the work involved. It seemed a like a very pressured process – not in the sense of "high pressure" or "stress," but more like the compression of air in a kettle. It helped that the play itself was involted and complex.
I spent a lot of time with the intern students that week – Hallie was very busy – and Scott, Claire, and all of the others were a lot of fun. It was kind of nostalgic, too, since they were going through the same processes as I had in 1996 and 1997: college preparations and extracurricular mayhem. Of course, the landscape of Ojai itself is rich in poetry. One night I went on a solo nightwalk out into the brush. The stars were very bright, and the mountains were bulbous lumps on the horizon, but I was only out for maybe a half-hour before the howling of the coyotes chased me back. Another night, one of the technicians (from Seattle) took Scott and I out for a morning walk into the mountains. We walked for maybe three hours and must have climbed over a thousand feet. As with all mountains, they are much larger than they look from a distance.
After the Conference was over, Hallie and I drove back to L.A. and stayed with her friend in East L.A. The next morning they drove me down to Hollywood and took me to lunch before dropping me off for a day of traditional tourism. It was actually a blast, and Hollywood was much richer in character and poorer in glitz than I had expected. I wouldn't mind living there at some point, actually. I hiked Runyon Canyon and then took the subway to LAX and flew home.
The middle part of the month is a bit of a haze. Before moving to California, I'd finished up the most backbreaking (and soulsucking) assignment I'd ever worked for Advanced Resources. The Nocturnal had finally flamed out and I was starting to receive a surge of hate email in connection with a context page I'd posted for my play Canaryville Blues. This really depressed me, and I wasn't thrilled to be back in Chicago.
Fortunately, most of these frustrating things were behind me. I had a lovely afternoon when I went downtown with Lisa and my fiancee to watch OutFoxed and then we returned to Hyde Park and spent many more hours at the Medici. There is no coffee like Medici coffee, and those who think it is awful are dead wrong. That is all. Actually, I think we went to the Med and then the movie, then we walked through Millennium park.
Just a week after this, my fiancee was getting ready to graduate. Her family and mine came down for the ceremony, and the night before, her dad took a walk with her and I through Millennium Park (again). The next day, after the ceremony, we ate (again) at the Med. I had a chance to stay at a hotel in Hyde Park that I foolishly passed up for a ride back to my non-air-conditioned apartment in McKinley Park.
Just a day later, I had a housecooling party at my McKinley Park apartment. Colin and Nora came, as Hallie and my fiancee, my neighbors Ed and Carmen, and my to-be-roommate, Sam, who had recently graduated from Northern Michigan. We drank beer and played party games (Werewolf and Taboo) and eventually, everyone left but Sam.
The last few days of the month were sticky and sweaty and Sam and I scouted out and leased the perfect perfect bachelor pad in Edgewater Beach. Eighth floor ghetto concrete penthouse suite. But it had carpet. Cockroaches, but the sweet smell of roach poison. Tamales sold on the street, the beach less than a block away. It was hot hot hot that week. We spent days applying for every menial and half-romantic job across downtown and the North Side, and evenings schlepping carloads of my stuff from the South Side to the North. Sam got a job first, of course. He had more self-confidence, and I was holding out for better pay and a more regular schedule. Still, on our first night in Edgewater Beach, we played Worms on the computers in the dark (to keep cool) and we listened to kids throwing bottles on the street below. It was the official beginning of one of the Greatest Years Ever So Far.
Where were you in August 2004?
Labels: 2004, August, DIARY, Travel
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