As I turned into the school parking lot—well, turned into the residential half of campus, heading toward the commuter parking in the heart, by the creek—I snaked down to my preferred spot with this blaring through the closed windows of my car.
I would’ve rolled down the windows and cranked the volume louder, but somehow I thought that a little much for 7:55am. Some people might still be sleeping, or be un-caffeinated.
Normally I would be one of those people, or at least opting for something a little gentler. Today, though, it spoke to me of the blunt energy I learned in Pittsburgh in the 1980s. (I’d always thought they were from Da ‘Burgh, like Donnie Iris, but Detroit isn’t culturally that far away to the Southern girl I was.) Reared on indirection and nuance, the double punch of northeastern frankness and the aspirational norms of second-wave feminism souped up my social-interaction engine.
My reputation for being unafraid to speak my mind and being willing to hold my stance even when I’m the only one holding it stems in large part from dropping into this new stew right as I started forming my identity.
I also observed that a body could have a lot of fun in this low-stakes, blunt environment. A whole lot of fun.
That’s what I like about you!