Strangely, I don’t remember much from my high school prom.  I went stag when most of my class had dates, and honestly, the entire social expectations dance wasn’t my thing.  However, after years of bullying and ridicule, I had clawed my way back into relevance.  I attended to demonstrate that they would not browbeat me into ‘outsider’ submission, much like my private version of Pretty In Pink.  At least that’s the story I tell myself in my head today.  Truthfully, I did not have this level of self-awareness when I graduated; it gradually developed over the years.

One conversation I remember from that night came from my friend’s date, a college student.  He lamented that although he had turned 19 years old, he was disallowed from drinking alcohol.  Specifically, the legal drinking age in the US wasn’t always 21; for many years, and in many states, it was 18.  To retain its federal funding, Florida also made this transition to 21.

Continue reading “Breach of contract”

As spring starts and flowers bloom, I settle into an annual tradition.  Baseball season starts in spring.  Those who know me know that I’ve cheered for the Atlanta Braves from the start.  People often follow that discovery with a question (or confusion, if you know my geographical history).  No, I never lived in Atlanta, though I have visited a handful of times.  For the record, I do not follow the American predisposition to cheer for a professional team based on geography.  If anything, it irritates me that others assume that I would follow suit.

In 1982, the Atlanta Braves rocketed from next-to-last in the preceding year into first place through a 13-0 start.  They kept that first-place position in the National League West on the last game of the season versus the Padres by the skin of their teeth.  The start of the baseball season is magical.  The 1982 Braves weaved that magic.  They were the embodiment of the little engine that could.  Geography does not undo that kind of loyalty.

Continue reading “42”