Breaking the silence is awkward, so I’ll ease into it by letting my high-school self make the first post. It’s been fun re-discovering these ancient high-school English projects.
Snow (c. 1988)
I remember show. We have it here in Columbia about every two or three years. A really good snow comes about every five years, though. This year was one of them. When I say good snow I mean about two inches. It’s kind of strange when you think about how times have changed. Now we get out of school for snow flurries, but our parents “toiled their way through five feet of snow, ten miles uphill every morning” to get to school. I guess parents try to impress their children. I hope I’m not like that when I have kids. I hope they are impressed or at least look up to me because of who I am, not what I want them to think I am.
I really can’t stand things that are “dressed up” to make them look good. Take my dad’s old truck for instance. It may not be the best looking truck in the world. It may not be clean or have racing stripes or have hundreds of lights adorning the top, but I really love it because it’s just a plain old truck, good for moving things and getting through bad weather. I like that truck because it’s my dads. That old truck kind of reminds me of him; he doesn’t try to be what he isn’t.
My dad sold that truck. I guess he outgrew it. At least he didn’t try to fix it up and pretend it was better than before. I’m glad he bought a new one. That truck will get old and another one will be bought and another one after that, and another, and another…