We Contain Multitudes

Saturday evening Yvette and I decided to watch a movie, The Life of Chuck. I’ve been waiting and wondering about this one. A Stephen King short story adapted by one of my favorites, Mike Flanagan. To say the least—it was beautiful.

I was initially concerned about how the story’s structure would translate to film, but it fucking worked. The story is written in reverse chronological order. Flanagan continues to impress. For someone who’s only been in the business a little over ten years, his filmography is already stacked. The Life of Chuck marks his third Stephen King adaptation—and his first film that isn’t rooted in horror.

The story was in the right hands.

At its core, it’s about how each life is unique and how every moment is significant, no matter how mundane it may seem. All the people we meet along the way become part of our own little universe. It was so satisfying to finally see the film brought to life. And that dance number? Truly exhilarating.

Weekends never last long enough.

Sunday we had lunch with my mom at The Grill. A nice little spot that serves a bit of everything. I’d been having a major craving for pasta lately. I have no clue why, but it’s all I want these days. Thankfully, I had a couple of options: chicken parmesan or rigatoni. I went with the rigatoni, which came with a pork and beef marinara sauce. It was fucking fantastic. I ate it all and left feeling stuffed—bloated might be the more accurate term. A big lunch like that isn’t typical for me; I usually keep lunch light. But I was totally enamored by the pasta.

All in all, it was a great little gathering between my mom, Yvette, and I.

After lunch, we ran a bunch of errands with overly full stomachs—just a few stops for basic household goods before the week kicked off. Once we got home, I meal prepped for Monday so that I’d only have to do the bare minimum after work. Life feels simple and easy when everything moves in sync.

The kids were coming back, so dinner needed some thought. Yvette and I planned on having shrimp and baked potatoes. For the kids, we picked up BBQ pulled pork to make stuffed potatoes. Of course, Lola didn’t want that—typical picky eater. It made me laugh. Yvette ran out and grabbed her a frozen pizza. That actually turned into a win for Teegan, who got to have some of our shrimp instead. In the end, I think everyone was satisfied.

Talking with the kids, it sounds like their trip was mostly okay. Teegan had fun. Lola and Noah seemed to have some sort of sibling rivalry going on—arguing over whose “parenting skills” were better. My take on it is that they were both vying for their father’s attention… and it sounds like he may have neglected Alaya. Poor girl.

I can’t pretend to understand exactly how the kids feel. I don’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents, but I know it can’t be easy. I always hope they have a good time when they’re with their dad.

It was a nice weekend alone with Yvette, but it felt great to have the kids back in the house. It’s the little things I miss—the pitter-patter of Alaya running down the hallway, Teegan yelling at his video games… just that extra life in the house.

I never thought the house would be this full, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Monday kicked off the Fall Semester. First day of class!! Summer is officially over on campus. Mixed feelings tug at me. The tranquility of summer is now gone with the return of students. On the other hand, there’s a fresh excitement in the air, radiating from their presence. There are so many new faces. They meander around like hikers lost in the woods. I was asked on at least three separate occasions where a building or classroom was located. Lucky for these kids, I can give decent directions without a map. I used to keep a stack of maps in the golf cart this time of year, but the campus stopped printing them due to cost. I guess they assumed people could navigate with their phones using the online maps. Well, smart guys—they can’t.

I might find some hindrance in my work when the students return to campus, but I love the electric spark that fills the air. They bring an energy that’s infectious in its own way—the excitement of independence from their parents. Some have come from great distances, leaving behind the life they knew and found comfort in. It’s a big step, going to college and stepping away from the world you grew up in.

The day wasn’t all rainbows. I had a moment that utterly pissed me off. It was about the raise. Yvette finally received her letter acknowledging our raise, and it was completely different from mine. It implied I didn’t get the merit raise, only the 2% across-the-board increase. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to quit my job. I was this close to applying for a position at McMurdo and moving to Antarctica. I’ve always wanted to go to Antarctica.

Later, I found my paperwork—it does say I received the merit raise, but it makes no mention of the across-the-board increase. Oh well, that part probably goes without saying. My anger subsided a bit.

One tradition some of my fellow staff members and I have is taking “back to school” photos. It started in the fall of 2020 during the COVID pandemic. People honestly weren’t sure if they’d be going back to school at all. It was questionable whether the campus would even reopen. Scary to think about those days.

Originally, it was just four of us: Yvette, Jamie, Ella, and me. Somehow, we’ve kept this silly tradition going for six years now. Crazy how time flies.

Anyway, I was the one who organized it this year. I reached out to Ella, while Yvette found a few others to join. This year, we had two newbies and four returning members—minus Jamie. Not bad for such short notice. I’m always happy when new people join. I want it to become a tradition for them.

Over the years, people have come and gone, but the core group has remained the same. The founders, if you will.

Our campus is like a wildlife preserve—we really have such a variety of critters. This week, I had another first. After dropping Yvette off at work, I was slowly making my way across campus to the office. On my usual route, I encountered something special: six javelina hogs just strolling across campus. Well… they were being pursued. The “boys in blue” were hot on their trail.

What a blessing it is to laugh that hard before work. How great!

But the best part of the week came next. One of the police officers actually decided to chase the pigs. On foot. That’s right—six large pigs versus one average-sized adult male. What on earth was this guy thinking? What was he going to do if he caught up to them? What if they felt threatened and turned on him? Would he actually pull his “big boy gun” to defend himself from some pigs on campus?

I honestly don’t know—but it was hilarious.

I laughed my ass off at the sight. All he managed to do was drive the javelina further into town and across a busy street. They darted right in front of my vehicle, making me tap the brakes. But I didn’t even care. I was thrilled to witness this absurd act of pig-on-pig action. A pig chasing pigs. My lord, all the pigs all lines up. Marvelous!

So… do y’all remember a little hurricane called Katrina? Well, if you do—that was 20 years ago. If you remember that storm making landfall, you must be getting old like I am. I was in my mid-twenties, just trying to figure out what life was. I was going into my second year back in college. I had no idea what I wanted to do. I liked literature and was good at geology. I liked to party a little too much. I was chasing some girl who had no interest in me. I was writing poetry and music to help make sense of things. I guess I was essentially lost in life, trying to find my direction.

I suppose that’s the reason I recall Katrina so vividly—it was the fall semester of the year I began to find myself.

This week my friends over at The Weather Channel were doing a little twenty-year remembrance—basically sharing their war stories. News was broadcast very differently 20 years ago. Cell phones weren’t what they are today, and they relied heavily on satellite just to stay on air. During that storm, a huge area went dark for a long time. There was no communication, so they didn’t even know if their team was safe without physically packing up and driving to check.

I remember meteorologist Stephanie Abrams making it her mission to find her colleague Jim Cantore, who had gone dark. I feel like I got to know some of the on-screen meteorologists and weather personalities during that storm—Jim Cantore and Stephanie Abrams in particular. Nothing was scripted, and everything anyone knew about a live weather broadcast was thrown out the window. It was crazy. Everything I learned about Katrina, I watched in real time on The Weather Channel.

The storm surge reached a record high—28 feet in some regions. The storm itself was almost the size of the entire Gulf of Mexico—insane to see on the radar. New Orleans was below sea level, so needless to say, they were fucked. The city fell victim to both a man-made disaster and a natural one when the levees broke. Around 80% of the city ended up underwater.

Those of us who lived through that time will all remember the aftermath. It reshaped the coastal states and played a major role in the country’s politics. Everyone was playing the blame game for the failed infrastructure. The nation was kind of a mess. Not quite like it is today, but a mess nonetheless.

The displacement of people due to Katrina was monumental. Neighborhoods were never rebuilt. Katrina left a defining scar on America that hasn’t completely healed.

Since that landfall I’ve seen some pretty scary storms hit, but at the time I hadn’t seen anything quite like Katrina. Twenty years ago. Feels like yesterday in some ways—and a lifetime ago in others.