When I took it out of the box, it felt more than a little like that opening scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey. To quote Glynnis when I set it up: “Wow. Your old laptop looks kind of like a coaster now.”
I don’t name electronics—not since Ron the Laptop from 2003 burned a fiery and internal death. But if I were going to name it, I think I’d call it Thor.
Because…damn.
Remember that time I fell down and went boom?
Me, too!
So…roughly how much time do you think the scribes on the front lines of the WGA Strike spend talking about/singing songs from Newsies?
A lot, right? I mean, what else could really get the blood flowing during a strike than a rousing chorus of “Seize the Day?” Or better yet, “The World Will Know!”
And the world will know
And the world will learn
And the world will wonder how we made the tables turn
And the world will see
That we had to choose
That the things we do today will be tomorrow’s news
I bet Tina Fey LOVES Newsies.
God, I hope Christian Bale stops by. That would be awesome.
EDIT:
The writers of The Office report from the strike lines and hilariously summarize what they’re fighting for:
Oh, Toby.
This morning while I was walking to work, I fell off a half-assed non-sidewalk. I twisted my ankle (not badly, thank God) and my knee hit the ground. If I had been playing football, it definitely would’ve been a fumble.
So I just broke my ass on the side of the road–a frazzled-looking girl carrying a bunch of crap in her arms, clearly freezing on a chilly November morning. I do the casual, damage control glance. The one where you smile awkwardly and laugh to yourself as you limp away from a scene of utter embarrassment for the sake of anyone who had the fortune of seeing you. In my case, I was especially interested in finding out how many construction workers saw me and were going to be howling (answer? 3).
The kid in the passenger’s seat of the mini-van that almost hit me (oops) was decked out in full Steelers gear–hat, winter coat, and t-shirt. He couldn’t have been more than about 7 or 8. This kid in the mini-van plasters his face up against the window as his mom drives by…and gives me the most concerned and tentative thumbs up to see if I was okay!
What could I possibly do but give him a big smile and and an “I’m okay!” thumbs up back?
My knee is bruising over, but that kid’s face was totally worth busting my ass.
I’ve been sitting here staring at an empty window for a long time, trying to come up with a pithy explanation of why the Boys and Girls Clubs are important, but sincerity is, once again, getting the best of me.
I’m far from being the Poster Child for the Boys and Girls Clubs. I didn’t grow up in a (terribly) high risk neighborhood and I was lucky enough to always have my mom waiting for me to get home from school. But I was a Club Kid in that I literally owe my family and our wellbeing to them–my parents met through the Clubs and have both worked for BGCA for the majority of their lives.
From the time I was little, I knew that my parents got to “play” for work. It wasn’t until I was about 9 or 10 that it occurred to me that other kids’ parents’ places of employment didn’t have a gym or pool tables. I got my first real job at the Pittsburgh Club in Lawrenceville. I’ve always stayed involved (see that picture? That was when I went to Disney World on a day trip with kids from some of the rural clubs for Spring Break junior year).
While I have hundreds of stories about working with kids (including a few here), I think the one that most encapsulates what the Boys and Girls Clubs are about involves a boy named Squidward.
That wasn’t his real name, of course–just something that a bunch of the kids started calling him when he was new (to tell the truth, his head was rather unfortunately shaped). Anyway, I was 16 and working in the Computer Lab, trolling message boards as a way of keeping my sanity in the din of theme songs for Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo and Barbie Magic Hairstyler.
Squidward didn’t like that he had to wait to get onto a computer and began to throw down some truly epic foul language. Seeing as though I had 6-year-old ears and minds to protect, I kicked his ass out of the Lab, which he liked even less. I think the thing I remember most fondly about that time of my life is how often I was called a “mothereffin’ whore bitch.” Ah, to be young again!
Anyway, Squidward and I had some problems at the beginning, but after a few begrudgingly mandatory apologies, we put the past behind us. He really was a great kid under the rage issues (he eventually got the help he needed from a counselor and became all the happier for it!).
Did I mention he was about 8? After the initial kerfuffle, Squidward was a Club regular who loved dodgeball with an unhealthy zeal that only other Club Kids could really understand. He came to visit me every day at 4 p.m. when my after school shift started. We talk about what kind of spelling words he had for the week–on Thursdays, I’d quiz him, and on Fridays, he’d bring me the completed test to see how he’d done. Much like my high school boyfriend, he seemed to have extra trouble with words containing “ie” and “ei.”
The BGCA have all kinds of goals that you can read about in the article, but the main thing is that it gives kids a place to go and people to have quiz them on their spelling words.
I guess what I’m saying is this: when I’m grown up and have money, after I get tired of swimming around in a big vault of it a la Scrooge McDuck, I’m going to give a bunch of it to the BGCA so they can staff some 16-year-olds who can always remember what it was like to make a difference in a kid’s life (cue the “The More You Know!” star now!).
