So Far To Fall

by Thomas M. Pender

I'm reaching way back now.  This was written in the fall of my sophomore year in college.  I had just had a really short relationship with a woman, and was in mourning over that, but also angry that she'd rather party than be with a more sober person.  There was a mess of emotions, and they all came out here.  I don't make it a habit to go back and edit how I felt in the past, or else I'd clean this one up a bit.  Still, I do like the mess of emotions here a bit.  It's honest.  Everyone feels a mess of emotions after breakups, don't they?

  

My memories

Up in the clouds

You’ll always shine in my eyes

But for now

I’ll leave you alone

Leave you to your cigarettes

Beer and hangovers

And I’ll wonder “what if”

When I’m bored

What a thing to do

What a risk to take

So far to fall

And yet, I’ve landed on my feet

No guilt

No hard feelings

No worry

And when I look back—

And I will—

I’ll smile

And when you look back—

If you do—

Remember the laughter

Not the tears

Remember the tender moments

Not the harshness

And may we both find our separate happinesses

written by t. michael pender  11/10/85

©1985 T. Michael Pender.  All rights reserved.

The Invisible Swords of College Conquest

by Thomas M. Pender

College – or, as I’m apt to refer to it, “The Limbo of Life” – was a wonderful and magical sphere of being, where you get to be an adult, but you get to be a kid again, too!  While you are working to better yourself, it’s also the first time you get to be on your own (assuming you go away to school, as I did) to really find out who you are.  It’s also a great place to meet all kinds of people, and learn what kinds of friends you really wish to have!

To no one’s shock, my chosen friends were all loons.

My freshman year, while being incredibly challenging and lesson-teaching (mostly the outside-the-classroom-lessons-of-Life kind), was made up of nine straight months of laughter and adventure, centered around a goofy crew of a few close-knit men who made the most – and the most fun – of any and every situation.

Dating rituals, for example.  While I have no doubt that those I met and chose as friends were polite gentlemen on their dates (although they’d never admit it back then, whilst trying to maintain their coolness), in our women-free zone of male bonding time, we had great fun discussing upcoming dates, successful dates, women of interest and certainly attractive complete strangers who passed our way.  One ritual that just kind of “happened” was the sword brandishing.

On a random day when one of us in the group was discussing an upcoming date, a successful date or a woman of interest, someone . . . most likely Terry “Trigger” Thompson . . . pulled an invisible sword from an invisible sheath attached to his invisible belt, made the sound of a sword being drawn, held it invisibly aloft and made a sort of pirate-y cry of triumph.

Those of us in attendance proceeded to immediately bust our collective guts, love the action, and mimic the action.  A tradition was born.

After that, whenever one of us had an upcoming date, a successful date or had met a woman of interest to talk about, however many of us in attendance would immediately draw our invisible swords (complete with sound effects, of course!), invisibly clang them together, and re-insert them.

Silly?  Yes.  Immature?  Granted.  Fun and memorable boy fun?  Yar!

As is the case with everything that went on during that incredible year, the tradition has faded as friends have gone their ways.  Still, I know for a fact that the men these kids have become have a silly and raucous side to them, hidden beneath their business neckties and barbecuing aprons.  Should two or more of us meet up, and one have a piece of good news to share, I have no doubt that those in attendance will find that the swords of triumph, first wielded in the dormitories of Michigan State, are still firmly affixed.

Huzzah!

Ten Suspected Dorm Food Ingredients

by Thomas M. Pender

Until I lived in the dormitories of Michigan State University, beginning at age 18, it seemed that I could never gain weight, and I loved that.  Once exposed to the food in the dorms, my metabolism seemingly shut down, and my weight snowballed.  These are my prime suspects to that crime.

10)          Lard

9)            Helium

8)            Lard

7)            Steroids (the kind that aim only at the stomach!)

6)            Lard

5)            Starch (straight outta the can)

4)            Lard

3)            Marshmallow filling, by the truckloads

2)            Lard

and

1)            Fix-A-Flat

East Lansing Rain

by Thomas M. Pender

A true story from my college days . . .

I must be a poet to do this during a storm

                  God, I need to learn to play the guitar

                  And pull it out at times like this

But I lay a blanket by my window

And watch

The headlights the windshield wipers the lightning the thunder

I put on Elton John

And I smile

I hear screams

Happy screams and laughter

I peer into the gray rain

And I see a young man in shorts

Carrying his lover on his back and running

And he slips on the wet grass

They fall

Tumble over one another

And laugh harder

I hear curses

Angry curses and mumbles

I look into the gray rain

And I see a young woman in a wet and wilted dress

Carrying her books and her broken umbrella

And she slips on the wet grass

She falls

And the books scatter and the umbrella flies away

And she rolls on her back

And bursts into laughter

As the rain dances on her face

The rain slows

The rain stops

And the world that existed during the storm is gone

A shame

written by t. michael pender  12/28/86

copyright 1986 T. Michael Pender.  All rights reserved.

Learning To Love “Iced Tea”

by Thomas M. Pender

I am not a drinker.  I never did enjoy any alcoholic beverage enough to overindulge.  There are a few I like, though.  Specifically, those drinks which have no hint whatsoever of alcohol in the taste.  It has to taste like something other than gasoline.  Mixed drinks with generous amounts of fruit juice or soda pop are just right for me.

With that in mind, I will rewind a bit.  Unlike some of my classmates, I had no interest in alcohol when I was a teen.  Didn’t think about it, didn’t wonder about it.  I learned a lot from observation, and what I observed about folks who drank was nothing I wanted to get involved in.

I don’t think my parents really felt the need to warn me about much back then.  I don’t wear guilt well.  If I had been doing anything major that I shouldn’t have been doing, it probably would have appeared on my face like the marquee of a Broadway debut.  I do remember a short “sex talk,” which I believe occurred immediately following a PTA meeting, so it must have been an interesting topic that night.  Dad smoked, but I was nowhere near intrigued with the practice.  Put simply, I was a viceless nerd.  (Of course, I say that with pride.)

One ordinary day, Dad gave me some alcohol-related advice.  This shocked me, as it was pretty much baseless.  Dad didn’t drink much at all, I never drank, and we had never discussed the stuff before.  In fact, we weren’t discussing it at that time, either.  He said, “If you ever get the chance, try a Long Island Iced Tea.”  Stymied, my only response was “Okay.”  Then, I forgot all about it.

Approximately five years later, I was a freshman in college who still didn’t care about drinking.  I was at virtually every party my floormates went to or held, but I was the guy with the Coke bottle in his hand, filled with actual Coke.  I went with my compadres one day on a two-hour drive from East Lansing, Michigan, USA to Windsor, Ontario, Canada.  The purpose of my friends’ trip was not only to purchase some inexpensive hard-to-find Canadian brew, but to get our clan to a bar in the nineteen-is-the-legal-drinking-age country next door.

I loved being among my peers on adventures, so I didn’t hesitate to get involved, but I had no plans to do anything but attend.  Canada had Coke, right?  No problem!

Once we got ourselves situated at a near-the-border tavern, the waitress went around the table for orders.  Many beer names were requested, but when she got to me, my dad’s voice echoed in my head.

I said, “Give me a Long Island Iced Tea.”

I really didn’t expect to enjoy the drink, as the name forced me to guess that it was designed to taste like iced tea, of which I am no fan.  I think it was just being in a position for the first time to actually order a drink, I wanted to get the curiosity over with.  My friends were a bit shocked, knowing that I had never drunk before, that I went with such a drink.  The reason is that, unlike myself, they actually knew what was in it.  More on that later.

A tall mug was put in front of me with a great deal of ice, a watered-down-Coke-colored beverage and a straw.  I took a meager sip and let the liquid register to my tongue.  It tasted like . . . Kool-Aid!  Kool-Aid, I can drink.  Passing the non-iced-tea-tasting litmus test, I took another sip.  Well, okay, I drank up half the large glass in one draw.  When I sat back up, the entire tableful of drinkers was staring at me, slack-jawed.  Everyone there knew I hadn’t had a drink before, and again, they knew what was in the mystery fluid.

“Are you okay?” a friend asked.

“Yeah!” I said.  “Hey, can you bring me another one of these?” I asked, finishing the first.  I had another, then I finished someone’s fuzzy navel (which also tastes not at all like gasoline), then I had a Coke.

It’s noteworthy at this point to say that I was rather thin back in these days.  For those who don’t know, the effects of alcohol on a drinker are generally proportional to the proportions of the drinker.  Skinnier drinkers get drunk quicker, as the alcohol has less drinker to travel through and affect.  With this in mind, my friends were rather intrigued and a bit amused by my excursion.  They were going to see the legendary and thin non-drinker after the effects of a few drinks!

I disappointed them all that night.  As it turns out, I had a rather high natural tolerance for alcohol.  I didn’t slur or sway a bit.  Over the years, I’ve concluded that I’m a pretty boring drinker.  I don’t like it enough to drink lots, but the effects are sorta non-effectual on me.

Here’s the punchline: After that trip, I looked up Long Island Iced Tea in a bartender’s guide.  Depending on the recipe, there are between five and ten straight alcohols in this concoction . . . along with “a splash of Coke for color”!  I can’t imagine how it tastes so non-alcoholic with that pedigree, but it sure won me over, after being disinterested in anything named “iced tea.”  I still hardly drink.  Mostly at wedding receptions or rare dinners with a party of others.  Whenever I do, this is usually the drink I have first.  It still tastes good and still doesn’t affect me much.  Then, I switch back to Cokes and waters.  Regardless of the flavor, I’m still just not impressed with the stuff.