Who asks that I post five semi-secrets.
I have scars from falling in the bathtub (chin), falling into a desk in first grade (eyebrow), and shattering an aquarium with my face (nose). No broken bones, though.
I listen to rock –n- roll music in my car, loud because it sounds best that way. My car is a black 1998 Honda Civic HX coup, my fourth Civic. My first was a 1980 maroon metallic hatchback. Second was a red 1988 hatchback, third was a black 1993 hatchback (I miss the hatchback). The semi-secret is that my eardrums are still recovering from an AC/DC concert at the age of sixteen. Love hurts.
I feel lucky to have grown up during the 70s, a great time period full of both intellectual and cultural ferment and exploration, and paradoxically, the silly excesses we all laugh about now, a product of the desire to repackage the sixties for mass consumption. Semi-secret: I had a Greg Brady permanent in seventh grade.
I worked in a grocery store from ages 16-18. I did a little bit of everything -- bagging, checking, unloading trucks, stocking shelves, price changes, sweeping and mopping, hiding six packs by the dumpster out back to pick up later, surreptitiously drinking beer while changing the prices on cans of pet food, and feasting on Breyers Butter Pecan ice cream and other foodstuffs late at night while the store manager counted down the registers.
I was asked to teach a Sunday School for class for 11-13 year olds at an Episcopal Church. I told them I was a new age pagan Buddhist and wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for my wife. I said I wasn’t sure about organized religion of any kind, mainly because it is too limiting of people’s natural spirituality, and was full of doubts and questions. They said, “So are the kids. You’ll be great.” I thought about it, and a voice said, “Go forth, and subvert the dominant paradigm.” I think it was mine.
If you would like to do this, consider yourself tagged.