Root-bound Adult Children


“When a flower doesn’t bloom, you change the environment in which it grows; not the flower.”
– Alexander Den Heijer

I was formally invited to my 23rd high school reunion today, more or less, and this was my informal response to a woman named Shelly:

“In 1993, some girl named Shelly wrote the following in my yearbook: ‘You’re fucked and weird. I like it. You’re cool.’ Nothing’s changed. Good luck with your event! Unless you’d like to move the venue to Colorado, where weed is legal for adult recreational use in certain cities and townships, at which point you could boost reunion attendance by offering to pull bong rips with your old high school buddies on a group vacation/reunion just one state over. Rent some buses. You know, whatever. I was there in 1993. Bill Clinton was president and Kurt Cobain reigned supreme. Nearly every fellow student smoked weed illegally back then. It would totally work, but I wouldn’t set up or deliver the invites through facebook. Apparently smoking weed is still shameful there and legions of potheads are still in the closet. I feel bad for the root-bound adult children of prohibition-loving states, but not bad enough to go home and visit.”

And this was Shelly’s informal response: “You’re fucked and weird. I like it. You’re cool. I’m jealous.”

Nothing’s changed … yet.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” -Anais Nin