Flashbacks

The first half of the day has been building up to this point
Lunch time in the cafeteria is not taken lightly.

The smell of mass produced food
Wafts through the air.
Anxious children push and shove silently,
Not wanting to be last in line.

The atmosphere of the room is playful
Secrets are told and high-fives are given.
Laughter and nameless chatter bounce
Off the walls of the café.

The cafeteria ladies dish out
Unappealing food to each empty tray.

The oldest children get to go first,
Leading the way to collapsible
Tables and chairs where they will
Finish their meal in record time.

Talk of sports and games,
Accomplishments and great feats
Dominate the conversations.

Children on duty help clean up,
Their recess time is reduced severely.

The children are dismissed to break,
Where they will play and dream of
Great fortunes in their futures.

How many of these dreamers
Will find themselves in a strange
Deja vu years from now
In a place much darker than this?

I Remember

I remember lining up with my sisters and neighbors on the first day of school each year. We would all take a picture on our porch before walking the four blocks of school together.

I remember the smell of sticky buns and egg strata drawing me into the kitchen after ripping through my presents on Christmas morning.

I remember the smell of spaghetti wafting through the room, enticing the entire Drop Inn community.

I remember watching whatever my sister waned on the TV because she was bigger and stronger than me.

I remember people crowding in front of our little house for a party we were throwing. It seemed like people were coming from all directions. I never expected them all to fit in the house.

I remember the crowd outside of the Drop Inn. Where did all these people come from?

I remember joking and laughing with my sisters, teasing and antagonizing each other.

I remember feeling cramped in the small building, and imagining how everyone else felt.

I remember feeling at home.

I remember feeling lost.

I Remember (Sorry It's Late)

I remember talking without speaking in the split level, sea level house in Montgomery I call home.

I remember hearing the musical call and response of "clang" and "wip" at the Drop Inn from the tray cleaners.

I remember smelling skin, wood, and Chianti in my new home in Wyoming I will soon, for myself, call home.

I remember thinking about the ugly word ”poverty" at the Drop Inn while I handed Styrofoam cups filled with water to members of my group.

I remember talking to my dad in the mahogany and silver kitchen and not even caring about what is able to be recycled as the wall reverberated trust.

I remember being at the Drop Inn with people of all different colors, and sports coats shuffling through the dinner line, business as usual.

I remember calling my girlfriend Carrie on the Westside and surprising her where she worked at BW3's.

Sorry I'm late, buuut I Remember...

I remember being in shape and basketball
I remember feeling good playing against the city's best
I remember losing.... a lot
I remember how it feels to block a dunk and the crowd loving it
I remember being the away team and being dunked on and the
crowd loving it
I remember the rare on-bus victory beers, drank in secret
I remember the also rare victory shower with the jersey still on and drinking another victory beer
I remember how it felt to be a leading scorer
I remember how it felt to not score a point on senior night
I remember caring about the school
I remember practices and running
I really really remember running
I remember being a part of something with friends that gave a damn about something
I remember being in shape and now I'm missing it

I remember...

I remember chewing Trident spearmint-flavored gum after my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, all packed in a brown paper sack.

I remember the smell of Downy, clean sheets, and linens.

I remember the itch that chlorine left on my skin, and showering after practice to get it off.

I remember soft carpet and hard wood floors, real Christmas trees that shed pine needles everywhere, and meals that I loved to eat but never cooked.

I remember summers without work or responsibility.

Memories

I remember the first time I was allowed to ride my bike to the ice cream store without my older sister.  The summer air that I broke through as I reached unimaginable speeds down the enormous hill. 

I remember the way back.  How the blacktop driveway seemed so far as I struggled to push my bike back up that enormous hill.

I remember how I liberated myself of that bike helmet.  Older kids did not wear bike helmets.  But the meanest mom on the street told on me for that helmet hanging on my handle bars.

 I remember playing our favorite invention in the basement to desperately escape from the blistering summer sun on Wedgewood Drive. Dark crawl tag was the best game ever.

I remember my grandma coming over to watch us.  Somehow, she had the ability to make the best mac and cheese, and put just the right amount of Jiff smeared over Wonder bread.

I remember my stupid school uniform that I always wanted to get out of.  It was as if I was a total outcast when I road the bus with all of the public school kids.

I remember finally being a cool eighth grader.  I also remember the fake tan that my friends and I "secretly" acquired by walking to CVS.   Streaky, orange skin is never in style.

I remember feeling alone when I walked into an entirely different atmosphere.  I wore the school uniform, but never felt pride for those letters written on my blouse.  

I remember spending everyday at the hospital that summer.  The drops that left my mother's eyes carried the feelings of failure and disappointment and shoved them in my face.

I remember the chaos that was always present within the walls of our house.  The friends of my brother and sisters that sometimes seemed to pack up and move in.

I remember that town that appeared so boring and desolate for teenagers.  Maybe we would not have made so many of those mistakes that resulted from straight boredom.

I remember leaving the only home I had known for 18 years.  The surprise I felt when I actually did miss Chesterland, Ohio.

I remember returning to that blacktop driveway.  Seeing what seemed to be a stranger stumbling through the doorway each night at 10, and the other on the couch too sick to try again.

I remember those long, lonely days in another strange atmosphere that I despised.  Once again, trying to figure out where to go.

I remember those endless conversations.  I never realized how much comfort one voice can send from miles away.

I remember that I will always miss those covers in that tiny room and the smell that somehow remains within the walls.  I need to grow up and learn to let go of that home.

Editing Group

After vigorous debate, we have concluded that all decisions rendered by our group will be produced through a fully democratic process where each member is allotted one vote.  If there are any decisions that we feel require input from the whole class, we will surely bring the issue to the classroom floor.  There will be no Editor in Chief.

We have also determined that all classmates ought to have some form of creative representation included in the final project.  As we continue to review and peer edit the class's Drop Inn projects, and as the decisions of the Design group reach us, we will be able to come to a clearer consensus as to the direction the project will take.  Until then, we will continue to brainstorm ideas regarding the organization of the project, and wait to hear the resolutions provided to us by the Design group.