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CROSSING THE NONSENSE DIVIDE |
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Crossing stories
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Crossing stories
Suzanna's gift. Or was it a warning? Not long after I started working, I began to hate Mondays. Sometimes I hated Tuesdays, Wednesdays and even Thursdays.
Christmas dinner with Perry Mason On Christmas Day, 1962, I was spending my first Christmas outside the United States at Wakkanai, Japan. I entered the dining hall and began to eat Christmas dinner all alone. The dining hall was completely empty except for the cooks and staff.
Why can't I be the Lone Ranger? It was the summer of ’49. A hot day, too hot to play ball. The front stoop of our first floor apartment overlooking B Street was a good place for a twelve-year-old to idle away the heat.
One senseless murder too many I repeated the awful contents of my phone conversation (my friend's nanny had been brutally murdered, shot at point blank range in her own home, during that same week) and repeated that we are leaving this godforsaken, #&*!#x@ country!
In-between jobs or crossing careers? My decision to leave a job I had and loved for more than 20 years did not come without a great deal of angst.
Revenge of the family odd-ball And then, one night, clandestinely listening to my radio under my bed sheets in the dark, I heard that every third child born in the world at that time was Chinese. I was dismayed and upset. I was the third child in my family and I did not want to be Chinese.
Crossing over to love, dispassionately It had taken me nearly five years of therapy - different therapists, social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists - for me to realize that I was in control of my own life.
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~ welcome to our side ~ © 2007 James Henry McIntosh - All rights reserved www.nonsensedivide.com |
