This year, people don’t have the holiday cheer they are supposed to. Everyone looks a little frazzled and tired, and their tolerance for other people isn’t very high. No, I’m not talking about the economy, although that might have something to do with it. This has to do with solar flares.
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All about the standing-upright chimps that really love to talk about themselves.
Rules for Radicals
It was hot under the seats of the old Tropicaire horse track, but no one expected otherwise. Events like the Around the World Fair are always hot and sticky in the nether reaches of suburban Miami. I was wearing a long-sleeve white shirt because the sun would destroy my skin, so white I always said that any paler would be regarded as a skin condition. So as I sorted through the old books that were tucked away in the rummage section, 2 for a dollar, I was dripping with sweat. Anyone else would have melted, but not me. I was on a treasure hunt. As is the first rule of a treasure hunt, victory belongs to the persistent regardless of how sticky their shirt becomes. So it was only a matter of time before I found it.
Kidnap the Santa Claus?
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
There has to be more to it, doesn’t there? Doesn’t this “Santa” guy have some ulterior motive?
Small Talk
Many people have something they dread about parties and gatherings, especially ones where a lot of the people are strangers. Some people worry about what they have to wear or how their hair looks. Some are introverts who worry how long it will take them to feel exhausted. I have a different problem – wondering how I’ll keep my mouth shut. It’s not because I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid because I know that’ll happen. What I hope I can avoid is betraying my social class and revealing myself to be a potentially dangerous outsider.
Myths, Big and Small
The essays come home in waves, taking the form of a packet. There’s a lot to wade through in order to understand how the kids are doing, but it’s every parent’s job. Since I’m more visual, and since I like to know how all the kids are doing, I find the walls of the classroom taped up with dozens of essays in one giant object d’art much more interesting. Standing in front of it I can see the plain truth of third graders; the composition is iffy, the spelling atrocious, but overall they are more honest and know what matters better than many adults.
Barataria - The work of Erik Hare 