It's 1985, and I am in Summer Camp. We go to “Great Times Summer Camp”. A bus picks us up in the morning and brings us deep into New Jersey where there are no houses. We bounce on the seats and sing Summer of '69 by Brian Adams and People are People by Depeche Mode. And then there is my favorite: The Search is Over by Survivor. Unlike school, I have many friends. My taste for boys is on the upswing, and begin to pay attention to how my bathing suit sits on the contours of my shape and am forever moving my straps around to stave off tan lines. I become adversaries with a girl named Julia, who doesn't care for the attention that me and The Boof are getting from all our drawing. We draw cartoons for the other kids when they ask, and they buy us snacks and sit near us while we work, like disciples. Julia is a powerfully built sun-kissed, blond who walks like she owns the world. Since we are both backed by factions of female campers that do our bidding, the campground skirmishes begin to escalate until the counselors got involved. They elect to swap me and Julia to different groups. My new counselor said, “Swapping one beauty queen for another,” and I yanked on my earlobe to get rid of the water.
It's 1985, and we are in line for Disneyland. It’s hot and we are cranky. My brother is antagonizing me and I give him a shove when he doesn’t ease up. He punches me forcefully in the face and I follow a gut instinct which is to pretend I am passed out from the punch, because I think it will teach him a lesson. While I lie on the ground, my brother cries in grief, but my Mom Mom Marge can tell its an act and whispers to me to get up, which I do slowly so as to not betray my performance.
It's 1985,
and we are driving back from Florida. We stop at a diner in South Carolina for
lunch and the waitress asks my mom mom how old we are. The waitress
looks at me, and at my body, and says, “Wow, she is healthy!” in
a way that has some secret meaning.
It's 1985 and
it is after school, but before Mom gets home from work. I am with my
brother and his friends wandering around the strip malls next to
Wawa. We get bored with the storefronts and wander into the back
where there are bushes and trash, and we find a pile of silky
lingerie which looks like it may has been worn and hastily discarded
. We conclude that someone has been raped, and call the police from
a pay phone. When they arrive, they inspect the lingerie and tell us
that it probably was not a crime scene, but we are good kids for
keeping a lookout.
It's 1985, and I cannot stand sharing a bedroom with my sister, who is a slob. I no longer fit this room that my mom makes us share with its frilly curtains that matches the bedspread and pillow shams. I abhor the faux Victorian dresser with matching end tables. While the house is empty, I move my mattress and box spring downstairs into the blue storage room which is twice the size of my old bedroom and has the same silvery carpet as the rec room. When mom comes home from work, she says nothing, and shuts her bedroom door behind her.
It's 1985, and my grandmother, Irene, has moved from her mansion in Short Hills into an apartment near our house in Cherry Hill. The apartment is a fraction of the size of her old place, but has the same air of untouchability, like a carpeted museum on the 14th floor of an apartment building. When the door opens, it makes a sound as it pushes against the plush white rug which new and stiff. On the wall by the door is the picture of my mom mom Irene on a camel, which was taken in Egypt. She is smiling at us from the past while two weary Egyptian guides shield their eyes. We are installed in front of the TV, and she asks us if we would like some V8, which is her way of giving us a treat, and when we try to say no, she gives it to us anyway, but tells us to be mindful of the carpet, which seems vaguely like a set-up. We watch Conan the Barbarian which has Arnold Shwartzenegger roaming the land raping women and punching camels, but my mom and Mom Mom Irene do not notice because they are smoking and talking in the dining room. Mom mom Irene is a tiny white puff of a lady blending in with the whiteness of her apartment.
It's 1985 and there is a new girl in the 6th grade. Her name is Joy Blackman, and she is Jewish. She is built like the Magnavox in our recreation room and wears glasses which dominate her face. The first time I meet her, she has a long sheet of toilet paper trailing her shoe, which must have hitched a ride from the lavoratory. The Sisters decide to put her in special Ed.
It's 1985, and Megan and I sit side by side taking a quiz. She does everything quickly, especially taking quizzes. Her pencil moves frenetically while a curtain of wispy blond hair spills over the desk. I do everything slowly, but I rush to keep pace with Megan. Our friendship is fueled by competition. She admits that I am a better artist and a faster runner, but I am awed by her sharp wit, as she seems to have a comeback for everything.
It's 1985, and Chris Bolinsky doesn't care. I know he doesn't care because he says it all the time now. When I bring over the issues of Dog Fancy, he is no longer interested in them. He says, "I don't care." I eventually stop bringing Dog Fancy by his house and only talk to him if he talks to me first. Two years older than me, I can see he is changing.
It's 1985 and Megan McCloskey and I are like Bedoins sometimes. Wandering along well-traveled routes, and occaisionally exploring a new parking lot or neighborhood comple. We pass by Ellisburg Shopping Center, a strip mall half way between school and my house. We wander past a clothing store and a Chinese restaurant into the bowling alley, although neither of us have money to bowl. I see a door near the restrooms that says "Keep Out." I open it and see stairs leading up. Megan doesn't want to join me, but I wander up the creaky stairs to find a big empty room, dusty from construction. The front wall is all of glass, and when I look out, I can see Megan standing down in the parking lot, so I knock on the glass. When she sees me up on the second floor, she laughs and waves, as do I, and after a few seconds of this, the floor gives out beneath me, and I fall through a hole into the Chinese restaurant below. I fall through a lamp and when I open my eyes, I am on the floor surrounded by broken glass, and there is a circle of Chinese people staring angrily down at me. I jump up and race out of the restaurant, passing Megan in the parking lot. The Chinese people chase me around Ellisburg Shopping Center and corner me behind a dumpster. I walk with them back to the restaurant where they yell and cry to me about busted up the ceiling, while I stand there feeling extra forlorn. When I am finally dismissed, one of the men gives me a piece of red glass from the chandelier to keep, I guess as a souvenir.
It's 1985. My cousin Belinda has come from Philadelphia to babysit. My brother and sister are asleep because it is late, and the two of us are sitting at the kitchen table as she shows me how to draw graffiti letters. She demonstrates how to make letters shaped like bubbles that have extra shapes on them that you leave white, so it looks like the shine. She showed me how to create shadows as well, and when we were done, our drawings fly off the page with their illusionism.
It's
1985, and my brother does not like to eat. He treats every meal like
its ground steak and onions, even if it’s delicious grilled burgers
and hot dogs. He squirrels his food away, but I, for one, know its
not in his stomach. I see his hand with the hot dog disappear under the table while
Sheba’s tail wags against my leg.
No comments:
Post a Comment