I typed up this short story at the Public Library during my first month in Boston; I may have jotted it down with a pen, on a piece of computer paper beforehand. But it is non-fiction—the life of the broken and homeless.
What goes on in my wild imagination at 2:30 AM? Last night, I was being escorted by Chinese bodyguards—mainy speaking Mandarin or Cantonese—except for four words, “grow up, Charlie Brown.”
When I subscribed to Apple TV, I watched Peanuts. The ones from the 1960’s. Charlie Brown played for and coached a Little League baseball team, but one thing was constant—he always lost. When the team sponsor told him that girls couldn’t play on the team, he had to find a compromise. Kid’s shows were different back then —appreciated problem-solving.
Perhaps it was a recounting of something spoken earlier that evening—naivete—trying to find a compromise with the finances of a Little League baseball team. Nevertheless, it was 2:30 AM and time to find my hotel room—the Chase ATM room—the weather was warmer there.
Perhaps it meant that not everyone’s life is that simple; not everyone’s life is as isolated as mine. Looking for real estate on a desert island or living on a prairie on the border of Texas (no one for miles) are things I romanticize about. Is this the sum of my life experiences?
Life’s lessons learned on the Little League baseball diamond.
The Center City Christian 