On a side note, the hospital I was born in burned down to the ground (as opposed to somewhere else, I guess) and is now a strip mall. The first business that went up in it’s place, being an anchor to the future businesses on the land upon which the sun first shone on me? Kentucky Fried Chicken. I was not displeased to learn of this years later when construction on the restaurant began - “Seems right,” I remember thinking. Who knows what turn my life would’ve taken if a Whole Foods had popped up there? I don’t even wanna think about it. The Colonel taking over my birth spot seems as a-propos as us taking over for the Indians, but with less griping and bitching. Sorry, I’m being told I meant to say “Native Indians.”
My college administration building also burned down after I graduated, strangely enough. So for all I know, there is no record out there that I 1) was born 2) graduated college. For all I know the car that I lost my virginity in has since been doused with gasoline, set afire and shoved off a cliff. Which it might have, for sanitary reasons (sorry baby!) I don’t know what this “burning of my past” is trying to tell me. All that’s left I guess is my childhood home and St. Timothy’s; a coupla more well-placed fires and the dissolution of the Beebo’s fruit pie company and my pre-1990’s life will be completely gone. Eighteen years, erased forever. How sad…I loved those little pies.
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