Dad
dropped me off at school, a new school for me,
a
school I didn’t want to go to. At the time I wasn’t
interested
in any school.
It
had been Just my dad and me for the past few weeks.
I
went with him after he and my mom had divorced.
We
moved to Kansas City from St. Louis. And for me
it
would be everything new, new city, new place to
live,
new clothes, new bed (one of those collapsible
canvas
cots you can’t turn over in), and of course the
new
school.
At
15 in 1963, I hated school. I hated lots of things.
I
hated my skinny body. I hated the pimples on my
face.
I hated that Dad and Mom divorced.
I
sat on the curb next to a filling station before school
smoking
my first cigarette of the day.
After
school I would smoke another before taking the
city
bus home.
Dad
wouldn’t be off work for a couple of hours yet.
Our
apartment was a small one room studio, small
kitchen,
small bathroom. I hated that place.
I
hated that cot which I had to sleep on at night. I hated
the
homework assigned me at school that day, and
decided
that I’d rather get an F.
I
opened the one apartment window. We were on the
third
floor. I could see some of the city from there.
The
LaSalle Hotel about a mile away stood about 10
stories
high. I liked that building, especially at night
with
its red neon light.
I
lit my third cigarette and blew the smoke out the
window.
Dad smoked too. He would never know.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 6-12-2020
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