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- Sitting in the pew at church, my sister and I exchanged looks before glancing back at our Grandpa whose eyes were closed in slumber. We covered our smiles with our lips as we watched him sleep through the mass that morning. We also jumped to attention, our bodies perfectly still when one eyelid rose to catch us in the act. My Grandpa had that kind of effect on people, perhaps that was what made him a good cop.
- Before boyfriend jeans were a thing, my teenage friends and I would go to the mall and buy ourselves a pair of men’s jeans. They always hung on the hips just right, so different from the women’s styles we were forced to wear. The price was also right, unlike the woman’s clothing line that caused us to go broke every weekend.
- I can still remember the smell of Aspen men’s cologne. It was my favorite scent on the teenage boys of my youth. Warm and strong it reminded me of the forest that grew all around us. It reminded me of dirt bikes and Ford trucks. It reminded me of baseball in the rain and climbing trees. It reminds me of walks around the block, and tanning in the sun; four-wheelers doing wheelies and teaching friends to drive a stick shift. Aspen was the scent of my youth.
- Once in college I earned the title, “glitter girl,” along with two of my friends. Streaks of green colored our locks, while the orange and blue glitter-coated our eyelids. The multicolored glitter we saved for our hair, and oh when we danced it rained around us until no one nearby was safe from the shine. When the sorority girls wore black pants, we wore jeans. When they wore jeans, we wore black pants. We stood out, and we knew it, and our social calendar bloomed. The attention was addicting and we ran into it as the wind would never die down.
