Could College Move-In Day Have Been That Long Ago?

When I think back about my first day at college — move-in day — I dredge up all kinds of memories: excitement, dread, freedom, fear of the unknown, not knowing how to do laundry, nervousness, freedom, uncertainty and liberation. Plus, that everything I owned, down to the very pair of underwear I was wearing, had my name written on them in permanent black ink. That was thanks to my mother. I think she assumed that my new roommate, or maybe the townspeople of St. Augustine, would be highly interested in sneaking into my room to make off with my shorts, shirts, and yes, underwear. But thanks to her handy anti-theft devices, should that unthinkable happen, I could march around campus, or town, demanding to see people’s underwear and then scream, “A-ha, those aren’t mine, but you should change ‘em once in a while.” She probably thought it would also be a good way to make friends. I don’t know what my brother-in-law’s memories will be of that day — the kind that you can relive in vivid color 15 years later. But I could see in his face some of what he was experiencing as we moved him into his new dorm room at the University of Central Florida last week. There was a lot of terror and this look like he was quickly losing control of the situation. Oh, not at the thought of this new life ahead of him, of having to fend for himself, find classrooms all […]

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Waiting on the ‘T’

T-minus 10 … 9 … 8 … 7 Just waiting for blast off here at the Thompson house. Today, Dec. 23, is the due date El Doctor set all those months ago for young Baby T’s arrival. As you read this, one of three things will have happened. Could be I’m at home with the little one, learning how to change diapers and swaddle, as well as saying things I’ll get punished for like, “She spits up like a drunken sailor!” and “Would the baby like some roast beef?” Could be I’m in the hospital uttering the often repeated, “Now, honey, remember what we learned in birthing class … ‘cus I forgot everything.”

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The Art of Buying a Digital Camera

So it’s the day after Thanksgiving. Your body has stored 14 pounds of turkey meat it hasn’t had time to digest over by your spleen, the refrigerator is leaning 22 degrees thanks to everything stuffed in it and if you see anything resembling stuffing in the next year, you will need psychiatric counseling.

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