Now, before you call the cops on anyone to report me as a victim of assault, domestic or otherwise, be aware that the 18-year-old in question is me. And to be absolutely accurate, he’s between 18 and 21, all those ages, all at the same time. He slapped me upside the head with memories of him… me… when I took a nostalgic trip to my alma mater this past weekend.
Warning. This blog is stupid self-indulgent. There is no benefit to you, the reader, intended herein. This is all about me, and I make no pretense to the contrary.
My son’s marching band was performing at halftime at College Park’s Byrd Stadium as the Terps played the Bowling Green Falcons in a game that was interrupted by a severe thunderstorm. In fact, the game itself was not interrupted. It was the band’s fourth number, “Rock Lobster,” which was cut short just seconds in.