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NO BONES ABOUT JONES
THE BEAST
When my mother moved into a new home with central air, I thought she would finally get rid of her ancient, industrial strength air conditioner. But, she said she needed back up in case the central air went down. My brother, Bob dutifully tried to cram the beastly relic into every window in the house, until his wrist was sprained and it was verified that the air conditioner, now dubbed "The Beast" would not fit into any of them. There were some other orifices, Bob mentioned, that he would like to stick the Beast up, but luckily his injury prevented him from doing so.
My mother is the original recycler. Throughout our childhood my siblings and I were made to feel guilty if we threw what most people considered trash, into the trash. So I agreed to store the "The Beast" in my garage until Hell froze over. After winter rolled around and Hell had not yet frozen over, my mother agreed that the air conditioner could go to the highest bidder. I placed an ad on Craig's list. One person showed up, laughed and left.
Now, three and a half years later, the Beast still sits in my garage.
It would be my pleasure if someone would take it off my hands for twenty bucks, CASH only. Sorry. That's all I can afford to pay.
Aug 27, 2009 7:48 PM | Link | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Report Content
LINDA'S SHOES
The first few years that I attended Gresham School, it was predominantly white. In fourth grade the teacher came before our class to tell us that a colored family had enrolled in the school and that Linda would be in our class. She said that we should treat her as we would want to be treated.
I was excited the next day when Linda was seated in front of me, and we soon became friends. Whenever the teacher needed an errand to be run, she most often would pick us to go. One day before returning to the classroom, we traded shoes for the day. Linda's shoes were a lot cuter than my old saddle shoes, and they fit me perfectly.
Linda remained the only African American in our fourth grade class, but by the time I reached eighth grade, Gresham School had become predominantly African American. Now, I was the only white student in the class. And only then, did I have some sense of what it was like to be in Linda's shoes.
Two photographs that illustrate the story can be found in the current CPS Alumni newsletter or at CPSalumni.org in the EDITORS PICK section.
Jul 11, 2009 11:37 AM | Link | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Report Content