We are familiar with it by now, on a first name basis, in fact: “The cancer” “Cam has cancer” “the cancer thing.” Cam texts me after an appointment and refers to “my cancer”, like it was some sort of pet. A black slimy pet with too many fingers, that doesn’t do anything but sit in the corner and watch us while we eat and sleep. If we’re going to talk about names this is probably the first thing you should know.
Back when the cancer was just a shadow, an irregular mass on a blurry radiology picture, we met with Sarah, the priest who married us this summer. We talked around money, wills, living situations, kids, whether or not we’d take our family to church. We didn’t tell her about the–well, the not-cancer, the lesion, whatever it is. Why worry people, we kept saying to each other, if it’s going…
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It’s Saturday night… not even late. A few minutes after nine. I’m at Mission and 7th. Get a request for an address on Market, a block and a half away. I take a right on 7th and pull into the far left lane. As I turn onto Market, a girl in cut-off jeans and a tank top waves me down. She’s practically in the middle of the street. Grabs my door handle before I can even stop. Climbs in the backseat. I ask if she’s Andrea, the name of the person I’m supposed to pick up. She mumbles something and rolls down the window. The rider destination has already been added in the app so I start the ride.
“We’re going to the Richmond then?” I ask.
She says nothing. I look over my shoulder. She’s curled up against the door, passed out. I start driving. Turn off Market onto Hayes and then…
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I have this image in my head of three albums that were almost required of a college student in the early 1960’s. Albums that were essential to a resident of a dormitory at one of the universities on the east coast of the United States. There was so much great music in the sixties, but the things I have in mind were specific to a student trying to seem collegiate, sophisticated and worldly. I could have this picture all wrong. I wasn’t there. But these are three great albums just the same.
I miss albums, those twelve inch vinyl records with good sized artwork and liner notes on the back of the sleeve. Compact discs were a trade off, being more durable but having smaller artwork and not quite the same feel. Digital downloads are even more of a sacrifice for convenience and cost. I get tiny thumbnail images, no…
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