Small, Weird World

After church, on the shuttle to the satellite parking for the last time, it was down to me and the honyocks, my brother and his wife, and a guy who I knew was a staffer at the church but didn't know by name.

He said something about 'Northwest' and the 1980s and I thought he meant he went to high school at Northwest in the 80s and I was perking up to ask him if he knew Mark Stahl or any of the other bad influences I remember who went there then.

No, he went to West. Em pipes up, 'Maybe you remember my Grandpa, he taught there!'

Who's your Grandpa?

I said, 'Calvin McBride.' And the guy got a funny look on his face. 'Why do you remember him falling asleep in class all the time?'

Who are you? And I said, 'Rod.' And he asked Don't you have a brother? I pointed and said, 'Yeah, Brian, he's right there.'

Then he asked did we live on 52nd Street, and I say yes wondering where this is going.

In 1983, for about six months, I slept at your house.

I'd forgotten about this: when my parents divorced, my Mom worked nights and we were deemed too young to be home alone overnight for the first couple years (I was in 7th Grade, my bro two years behind). So we had house-sitters.

The first one was a chick named Donna. Donna was 18, a cancer survivor, and death by sexy. I was 13, keep in mind, so to hear the tub filling and knowing that there was a gorgeous 18 year old 'woman' getting undressed on the other side of a door she thought was locked, but I knew the lock was broken on, that was a potent cocktail. I never revealed the broken lock by barging in on her, but I was more or less in love with her by the time she went off to college or whatever ended her employment as our watcher.

The next house-sitter was a guy, this guy, and I have to admit some guy doing his student teaching was no replacement as far as I was concerned for a tantalizing object of desire.

But Jim wasn't without his redemptive qualities: he taught me Jumping Jack Flash and Paperback Writer on guitar. And he'd let me stay up if I watched what he wanted to watch on TV, which was Twilight Zone on 'Mr Ed,' Dr. Who and Monty Python's Flying Circus.

Realizing how potent these influences were, how they actually trumped the influence of a hot chick who smelled great after that bath, I said, 'So it's your fault!'