oklahoma, circa 1986

i've never thought of myself as a sentimental person. long distance commercials do not phase me, i would never attend high school reunions and the room doesn't get "dusty" when espn classic airs reruns of the 1985 world series (filled with profanity maybe, but not dusty).

that being said, for the last week or so, i've been immersed in memories of my childhood. i've been waking up on summer mornings only to find my baby brother, snug in his yoda underroos, sleeping beside me. i've run through the two and a half neglected acres we called the jungle, where i've redug the trap doors that fooled no one, found dirty condoms on "rock island," sent my brother home after he fell through thin ice lest he get hypothermia, and caught crawdads, hundreds and hundreds of crawdads, and subjected them to horribly creative deaths (slingshots, the blacktop death march and dismemberment are just a few of the options). i could go on. i could tell you about mavis jarvis and in-house suspension, what my friend gabe taught me about my vocation, officiating floor hockey games in the gymnasium, but i won't.

i will, however, confess that i am becoming a bit sentimental. as the years pass the edges of my childhood experience, the fear, failure, my inability to hold my own in honors math, are wearing off and leaving me with a deep sense of wonder. and wonder ain't half bad. in fact, wonder seems to be leading me just a bit closer to the holy and hidden heart of it all.