Chestertown is getting hot again. I got up early to take a run while the world was still cool. Now I am sitting in the artificially chilly confines of the studio, working on a story about bad-looking high school freshmen. It is only vaguely autobiographical. I am only drawing slightly from my own memories of the high school years. Ok, just about every painful episode is basically a word-for-word transcription of my adolescent pain. There is a famous photo of me taken in the eighth grade when I was swindled by the teachers into being on the “Principal’s Council.” It was basically a distinction given to the dorkiest kids so that they could be easily identified by the other, meaner kids and publicly mocked. I was still in my fat years at the time, and I still parted my hair in the middle. I still had large plastic glasses. My father still dressed me. In the photo, I am featured, fat and unlovable, in my Keystone Mountain t-shirt. One of my sleeves is longer than the other. I look sloppy and imbalanced. I’m sure that everyone who looked at the photo wanted to stuff me in a locker. To complete the image, the words that were printed on the shirt were (in reference to skiing, of course) “My Life is Going Downhill.” The wonderful thing is that I had no consciousness of the irony at the time. I was a mostly happy kid in spite of the social blight I represented. Rehearsing my early teenage pain through writing has been a pleasant way to spend this lazy afternoon. And I’ll never run out of material.

In other news, I finally heard from Robbi last night. The fishing has been slow so far, but the Department of Fish and Game has decreed that they fish during the day, so it has been difficult to travel over to Egegik to use the pay phone in the cannery. Yesterday they were switched to the night tide (which probably means Robbi got up at some ungodly hour this morning to stuff herself into a full rubber suit and head down to the beach), so she was able to make the trek across the water to call me. Apparently Alden spent the first two days being a total pill, still sick and completely exhausted from the travels. But she’s back now to her spunky self, though she can’t seem to understand that the “beach” here is different from the one she loves at home. No parent in his right mind would let a child swim in the water here, which is dirty and cold and teeming with underwater life.

Kato is sleeping happily in a cardboard box. Other helpers are more than making up for my missing contributions. It was a good report. Mostly, it was just good to hear Robbi’s voice. I did not get to talk to Alden. She was sleeping when Robbi left for Egegik, and rousing her would have violated Robbi’s and my most sacred rule: never wake a sleeping baby.

I got my first letter from Robbi today, full of news about her trip, mundane details that were delightful to me but which would bore you stiff, and so I’ll keep them to myself. But letters are on my mind right now as I contemplate my Monday of writing them. I think I have a list of ten eager recipients so far, including the young lady who has asked me to write her Masters Thesis. I’m going to do it. I may post it here for all of you to enjoy. We’ll see how it goes.

Be sure to let me know if you want a letter and haven’t asked for one yet. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, read the next post.