05 Mar 98
(I’m working on a longer piece called “Food,” to be accompanied by other longer pieces called “Shelter,” “Clothing,” “Sex,” and “Work.” You have to start somewhere. This is a section from its first draft.)
We ate. We ate from vending machines in North Campus, from Las Vegas Pizza on Church Avenue. We stood in line for the introduction of the Croissanwich. From 1978 to 1986, four years until twelve, we swallowed ice cream and hoagies, sodas, cookies, pretzels, Nip-chee crackers, Tasty-Klairs, and potato chips.
As we ate, my streets shrank. When I turned ten, we walked along Rosedale Avenue below the Francis Harvey Green Library. He said, “Paul, remember when this was a mountain?” I told him I did. I was four years old, a slip of paper in a pullover shirt. I lisped out, “I’m climbing up!” My father’s rolling voice challenged: “Keep going! Run! Go! Run!” I scrabbled up the embankment, little sneakers grasping the dirt, hands yanking the grass. At the top, ten seconds later, six steep and dangerous feet from the sidewalk, I raised my hands in triumph. The valiant mountaineer, taller than my father by many inches and forty-five degrees. Then it was time for a break and some soda.
But now I am ten and I’ve given up climbing. We head for the vending machines in the student center. Students smile at my father. It is time to eat.
As we ate, my streets shrank. When I turned ten, we walked along Rosedale Avenue below the Francis Harvey Green Library. He said, “Paul, remember when this was a mountain?” I told him I did. I was four years old, a slip of paper in a pullover shirt. I lisped out, “I’m climbing up!” My father’s rolling voice challenged: “Keep going! Run! Go! Run!” I scrabbled up the embankment, little sneakers grasping the dirt, hands yanking the grass. At the top, ten seconds later, six steep and dangerous feet from the sidewalk, I raised my hands in triumph. The valiant mountaineer, taller than my father by many inches and forty-five degrees. Then it was time for a break and some soda.
But now I am ten and I’ve given up climbing. We head for the vending machines in the student center. Students smile at my father. It is time to eat.
We ate. We ate from vending machines in North Campus, from Las Vegas Pizza on Church Avenue. We stood in line for the introduction of the Croissanwich. From 1978 to 1986, four years until twelve, we swallowed ice cream and hoagies, sodas, cookies, pretzels, Nip-chee crackers, Tasty-Klairs, and potato chips.
As we ate, my streets shrank. When I turned ten, we walked along Rosedale Avenue below the Francis Harvey Green Library. He said, “Paul, remember when this was a mountain?” I told him I did. I was four years old, a slip of paper in a pullover shirt. I lisped out, “I’m climbing up!” My father’s rolling voice challenged: “Keep going! Run! Go! Run!” I scrabbled up the embankment, little sneakers grasping the dirt, hands yanking the grass. At the top, ten seconds later, six steep and dangerous feet from the sidewalk, I raised my hands in triumph. The valiant mountaineer, taller than my father by many inches and forty-five degrees. Then it was time for a break and some soda.
But now I am ten and I’ve given up climbing. We head for the vending machines in the student center. Students smile at my father. It is time to eat.
As we ate, my streets shrank. When I turned ten, we walked along Rosedale Avenue below the Francis Harvey Green Library. He said, “Paul, remember when this was a mountain?” I told him I did. I was four years old, a slip of paper in a pullover shirt. I lisped out, “I’m climbing up!” My father’s rolling voice challenged: “Keep going! Run! Go! Run!” I scrabbled up the embankment, little sneakers grasping the dirt, hands yanking the grass. At the top, ten seconds later, six steep and dangerous feet from the sidewalk, I raised my hands in triumph. The valiant mountaineer, taller than my father by many inches and forty-five degrees. Then it was time for a break and some soda.
But now I am ten and I’ve given up climbing. We head for the vending machines in the student center. Students smile at my father. It is time to eat.