Nostalgia For An Age Yet To Come

I went to the AmeriCorps graduation ceremony today, and I had a really good time of it. To be honest, this is in part due to the fact that I have not socialized at all since I last saw Eric, three weeks ago. I mean, I've seen people through Target, but that is hardly a social situation, and the fact is that most of my co-workers speak Spanish or Haitian-Creole. So it was good to see people who I know, who I work with, who I like.

I had wondered what Ray and Daron would be doing next year, since I know neither of them is particularly happy in south Florida. Apparently, they have decided to continue to live together down here, which is good, since they are my friends, and I like them.

Anyways, I'm not going to get too into it, but it was just nice to be reminded that people still cared about me and whatnot. It was nice to know that they were interested. And it also gave me a lot of closure that the mass firing did not: I was able to talk to the other people who work in that community, and it came across as much of a surprise to them as it was for me. It was just a badly-coordinated conclusion to a badly-run program, and it heartened me that everybody in the community knew just what I was enduring in that office.

The event also (predictably) made me nostalgic about my AmeriCorps year. Not that I'd ever go back, but it was a lot of fun, and I made some good friends. So now, thanks to the wonder of the printer-scanner that I've recently brought, I present random pictures featuring my friends from that year.

Brianna, Sandra and I at the old De Porres P.L.A.C.E. Brianna and I worked as teachers at the site, and Sandra was a student there who eventually became the secretary and office coordinator. I think this picture was taken when we were celebrating my birthday.

Dawn being harassed by the Catman during my one and only trip to Key West. He came across as a faux-French pervert, and his cats kept trying to make a break for it. I still have the sticker that she is holding, too.

This is Dave and I from the very first week of AmeriCorps, in front of the fabled sculpture, "Sister, Your Mask Is Showing". This is indeed the sculpture that inspired Dave and I to write poetry while waiting for our appointments to get food stamps, which my cousin and I later recorded as a "song". The stain on the crotch is on the print of the photo, not on the shorts that I am wearing. I swear.

It was a very good year. This year will be even better: that's what I keep telling myself, and that's the story I'm sticking to.