childhood

Why I’m No Longer Mad at Boulder, Colorado

October 7, 2020November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

You can't go home again. That's what they say. Which is weird, because the truth is that you never really leave. Regardless of how many years or miles pass by, there's always a part of you trapped in that place. A splinter of home is forever lodged in your psyche.Home is a complicated thing. It isn't just a place. I'm not talking about those corny plaques that everyone's grandma has hanging in their kitchen that says something like, "Home isn't a place, it's a feeling." Or even worse, "Home is where the heart is." That's all too simple and trite. Especially if you've had many homes.One of those places wasn't my home at all. I never lived in Boulder, Colorado. And yet, I've long had a thorny relationship with the place.Curled up on the floor of my cramped bedroom in a little trailer park in Indiana, I drew one enormous picture after another of mountain scenes with my fat Crayola...

Why I Still Want to Be Wonder Woman When I Grow Up

December 16, 2019November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

Adults always ask little kids what they want to be when they grow up. When you're small, this question is exciting because it immediately propels you into imagining yourself in fantastic scenarios. I used to tell the grown ups I wanted to be a stewardess. (Don't start. It was the 70s, so we weren't saying "flight attendant.") I hadn't yet been on an airplane and imagined nothing could be more exciting than flying. Sure, traveling the world seemed okay, but the sky was the domain of super humans. People who could fly. Like Superman or Wonder Woman.And what I really wanted to be when I grew up was Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman had an invisible jet. Much cooler than handing out tiny pouches of nuts on an airplane. I only needed to twirl around like Lynda Carter, then look up at the sky. I could see myself up there, far above the Earth and all the nonsense below.Wonder Woman was...

Stories, Meat Sacks and Pagliacci Suspenders

August 25, 2014October 5, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

“What's wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of humanity and dignity, and decency, and God forbid, maybe even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we're going to fight a disease, let's fight one of the most terrible diseases of all, indifference.” -Patch Adams * * *I used to have a really cool pair of suspenders. I wore them whenever I had the chance and along with my Wonder Woman Underoos, they were probably one of the most special items in my wardrobe. Maybe, if you were a kid in the late 70s, you had the same pair.If you did have a pair, or even if you didn't, you probably knew why some of those weird kids were into rocking the rainbow suspenders.Because Mork rocked the rainbow suspenders. And Mork was awesome.In 1982, the year that Mork and Mindy came to an end, my mother and...

A Story About Guns

January 18, 2013November 30, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

When I got my first and last gun, I was in the morning kindergarten class. The bus dropped me off after school and I'd watch TV in the living room while eating my lunch. Old reruns of some of the best shows were on in the afternoon: Batman. The Lone Ranger and The Adventures of Superman. I ate my sandwich with Adam West, George Reeves or Clayton Moore, then I'd run off to read my comic books, or play outside. I had no siblings, so I usually played make believe by myself. Sometimes I suited up in my Wonder Woman gear to save the world. Other times, I became Supergirl, flying around by fastening some sort of cape around my neck and hanging from my swing set. And when I had my little cap gun, I was just as brave and heroic as the Lone Ranger.In my mind, it wasn't symbolic in any way of a thing that hurt people. It...

Mr. O’Donnell & the Yellow Paper

May 21, 2010December 2, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

"What is a teacher? I'll tell you: it isn't someone who teaches something, but someone who inspires the student to give of her best in order to discover what she already knows." -Paulo Coelho"It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge." -Albert Einstein *I sat perfectly still in my seat at the back of the classroom, listening carefully as our teacher, Mr. O'Donnell, gave us our assignment: write a one-page essay explaining what you would do with only one day left to live.There, at my desk in the far back corner, next to the little sink and the pencil sharpener, in front of the poster of Prince & the Revolution, I tried to contain my giddiness. Sure, I had written boring essays for school before. I had written some stories, too... but no one had ever seen any of those."That's not all," Mr. O'Donnell said from the front of the room. "After everyone's...