There was a time when joy came in the form of an egg sandwich. My friend Alan used to bring them to school, still warm from his mother’s kitchen, wrapped with care inside a reused plastic bread bag. When he peeled it open, the smell hit first: that mix of fried egg, hot oil, andContinueContinue reading “Egg Sandwiches, Elementary School, and Timeless Memories”
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Bad Moon Rising and the 8-Track Sounds of Childhood
I can still conjure it—the family’s tobacco-brown Pontiac Bonneville, the smell of leather warm from the mid-day sun, dashboard gleaming with chrome, at that age when I was still small enough to straddle the transmission hump. I felt part of the whole ride—the road ahead, the hum of the engine mingling with the faint whisperContinueContinue reading “Bad Moon Rising and the 8-Track Sounds of Childhood”
Veni, Vidi, Scripsi 