An essay about work, authority, and the systems that continue operating regardless of consequence. Set during the winter of 1980,
Illustrated adventure books for early readers.
Tag: Personal Narrative
Shortly after I arrived, the placement agency that had sent me there called. They were apologetic. They told me they could reassign me immediately if I wanted out. I told them no. I would stay and complete the job.
The web was still new then—not vastly public, not casual. Database-driven website connections were custom-built, expensive, and rare.
Most days, it was just the two of us. He was older than I was and knew the procedures by heart, the kind of person who respected every step because he understood what depended on it.
The expressway wraps the city in monotony, passing warehouses and exits that no longer bother to announce themselves. That night, the rain drenched everything.
Ronald Walter Bayliss December 14, 1933 – January 15, 2018 “Run, you rascal!”— My dad, at every Penn State game Today is my Dad’s Birthday…
Footsteps pass through the room. Voices spill and fade. Someone weeps. Someone prays. All of them kind, and all of them far away.
Smoke on the horizon, moon ridin’ low,
Steel rails hummin’ where cold winds blow.
A train and its shadow, side by side.
Ridin’ the rails with nothing to hide.