Tag: Arlington

How I Found Etta James In San Francisco

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late night, july, reading poem of the day, “megan married herself” by caroline bird, english poet, younger than me, fifth line- she strode down the aisle to “at last” by etta james, what do i know about etta james? (1938-2012), looking for connection, internet, internet, doo-wop, her love, my love, when? me, family basement, arlington, virgina, listening to smooth vocals with my father, 1981, etta, between ages 12-16 in the fillmore district of san francisco, 1950-1954, her group the creolettes-connected to creole- a mixture of european, african, and sometimes native american heritage, me, lived at 1550 fillmore in 1996, not creole, but i mix, time, place, words, people, takeaway? we walked the same pavement, liked the same music, never knew etta james, knew her a little bit.

Of Mice and Grease

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tell me more, tell me more, the musical didn’t get very far, first act, april, 1988, and i’m a freshman in high school, managed to avoid the senior crazies all year, the guys who threw all the parties, got into all the fights, the ones teachers feared, they are close to graduating, but not without one final senior prank, and this is where i come in, me and hundreds of other students watching grease, i don’t see the eight guys in the darkened auditorium, each with a sack of 50 mice, all 400 bought over several days before, details that come out later, the crazies release the rodents while danny zuko is crooning summer fling, don’t mean a thing, then that high pitch animal squeak screeches out from under every seat, an unnatural infestation, the screams begin, kids jump on seats, some run for the aisle, pure chaos, like the barf-o-rama scene in stand by me, i walk quickly to the exit, when i see slow-footed chris hagan, all 260-pounds of him laboring to get out too, i didn’t see the body of the crushed mouse under his reebok high tops, just splashes of scarlet blood splattered on his sneaker, for a second i lock eyes with chris, he’s visibly shaking, his jowls quivering, probably had never killed anything before in his life, a minute later i’m out of the theater, suddenly sad on a warm spring day.

Yearbook 1990

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we care, we don’t care, ballpoint pen, sharpie, maybe a pencil, use words like dude, sign with love, air out grievances, i guess we did have a few little arguments this year, address complicated romance, i suppose we’ve said before that everything was a mistake, but i really don’t feel that way, attempt humor, have a nice winter! make fun of teachers, doesn’t ms. earle look like grimace when she wears the purple lab coat? express bland kindness, you’ve been really cool this year, and i hope to see you around, give unwanted relationship advice, make sure to keep your girl in line, she’ll run all over you, talk sports, oh and by the way, the Braves do not suck, comment on music, STRAY CATS RULE! forget who’s yearbook it is, jim, chemistry wasn’t great but we made it to june, and this quasi-document, could be pompeii, everything, and nothing

Selling Cameras, 1991

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survey the merchandise, canon, pentax, nikon, kodak, know the prices, how many dollars to preserve memories? tell the customers about zoom lens, color quality, shutter speed, sell them one by one, talk spanish sometimes, if they are from el salvador, remember the war, they fled that war, try to remember, speak with co-workers, allen, who rides a bike because he lost his license, yusuf, from pakistan, college-educated, has a family, wants to move up to selling televisions, shift from foot to foot, 12 hours standing, 9am to 9pm, too long, scribble scenes for a play when no one is watching, quit before prom, but don’t forget evans department store

slam dancing

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wasn’t what i thought, i thought it was you slamming into me, me slamming into you, but that wasn’t it at all. it was a river, the current pulsating with human motion, spontaneous stage diving, swaying of limbs, giving into the chaotic whole, bodies tributed to the thumping drumbeat, electric guitar, ska/punk vocals. and those who knew, went with the flow, those who didn’t, they got moshed.

Remembering Mr. DeLong: 1946-2023

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I attended Taylor Elementary School in Arlington, Virginia during the late 1970’s into the mid-1980’s. I had some incredible teachers at Taylor. Very high on that list was Mr. DeLong (Mr. D). He was my physical education teacher and had played college basketball and baseball at George Washington University. His approach to PE was methodical; he was so dedicated to the Presidential Fitness Test, Field Day competitions, and all of the details that went into games like dodgeball and earth ball. I remember his deep love of basketball and can still picture his smooth jump shot. After I graduated from college, I came back to visit with Mr. D. We shot hoops for part of an afternoon, and I enjoyed just being near his calm energy. A couple of years later I taught my very first class of students at Malcolm X Elementary School in San Francisco. With those 4th graders I went by Mr. D, in honor of Mr. DeLong.

You can read his obituary here: https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/arlington-va/jeffery-delong-11255200?utm_source=obit_alerts&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=obit_detail&utm_content=decedent_name

The Old House: 1978-2023

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this is the place
where i once lived
basement tv, saturday sugar
cereal, endless ping pong
mowing the lawn and
shooting driveway basketball hoops
sledding as a child
reading by the fireplace
blasting the beasties upstairs
on the old stereo
ice cream birthday cakes
hide and go seek
learning how to shave
and juggle bean bags
talent shows with sunglasses
and the elvis moves
staring at jumping squirrels
outside my bedroom window
a home once ours
now is no more