It’s
Friday the 13th, and as the sun rises this morning over the Jersey
shore and illuminates the utter devastation wrought by yesterday’s horrific fire,
you can’t help but wonder if the supposed mystical powers of this day didn’t
seep into the surrounding days.
I
found myself, yet again, channel surfing to catch any and all information on
the event as it unfolded. As the images filled the screen, I sat in shock, with
tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, praying for the safety of the
firefighters and for the people of the Seaside Heights community.
These
poor people, haven’t they been through enough already? They were only just
starting to recover from the effects of Super Storm Sandy, and now this. It is
just heartbreaking!
However,
New Jerseyans (or is it Jerseyites) are made of stern stuff. Yes this was a
crushing blow, but it was not a knockout punch. When the smoke clears, they
will pull up their bootstraps, roll up their sleeves, and dive right in to
rebuilding. Everyone will rally around those affected and pitch in to help in
whatever way they can. That’s what folks from New Jersey do. We have the
reputation of being a brash breed, but when the chips are down, we are there to
help a neighbor, no questions asked.
The
hard part now is waiting to hear from the powers that be as to when, and what
we can do to help. In the interim, I ask that you say a little prayer, to
whomever you pray to, for the folks in Seaside Heights. Pray for strength, pray
for compassion, and pray nothing else happens to make things any worse. While you’re
at it, you might as well throw in one for the folks out in Colorado dealing
with the massive flooding.
What’s
next, pestilence? Locust? Sheesh!
Enough with the hellfire and brimstone;
I hope you have a wonderful day, and happy writing!
Your Last Challenge was:
It is the first really cold day and you decide you need your
coat. You have not worn your coat since last winter. You put it on, reach in
the pocket and find…
The homecoming game, an annual event in
our town which brings out the masses, and this year it’s no different. High
school graduates, new and old, plus current and upcoming students will fill the
stands to bursting to root on our beloved and often triumphant Raiders. Preparation
for this Saturday night game will take up a good chunk of the day, for much
like college and professional football games, tailgating will be involved.
Hours before the game is to begin, we will be out in the parking lot –
occupying all of the slots so the rival team’s fans are forced to utilize the
off campus parking – grillin’ and chillin’. Unlike major sporting events, no
alcohol will be involved; but that will not dampen the festivities in the
least.
As noon approaches, we make sure our
car is packed and ready. As usual for homecoming, the evening promises to get
quite cold, so while my husband locates our maroon and gold blankets –
obviously only blankets sporting our school colors would do – I descend into
the basement to unearth our ancient letterman jackets, jackets which only see
the light of day once a year.
As is my habit, still in the basement
where there are not witnesses, I try on my jacket to make sure it can still
fasten. I button it up and put my hands in the pockets where I feel the familiar
Ziploc bag and smile. The bag contains memories of homecomings past, over
thirty years’ worth of ticket stubs. Memories of games won and lost, old
friends, times both happy and sad, and some even bittersweet fill that little
bag.
This is a fictional story although
there are a few facts tossed in – our school colors are maroon and gold, we are
the Raiders, up until hurricane Irene, my husband and I did have letterman
jackets stored in our basement, and we do try to go to the homecoming game when
we can, but there is no tailgating involved.
Your
Next Challenge is:
You have 10 minutes (be honest). There is no right or wrong,
just write. Spelling and punctuation don’t count and NO ONE is allowed to
criticize what someone else has written. Go.
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