Okay, mostly just the one story, but now you’re intrigued aren’t you?
Since the last post (gah! I know. Tsk, tsk.) I moved from one quaint college town to another. The impulse to compare the two is completely irrepressible. Kutztown is much smaller than Bloomsburg, but hard to tell because it is situated right in between Allentown and Reading. Bloomsburg has a little more going on because it’s right off the interstate. But the Mennonites! There are no Mennonites here! Which is probably in the best interest of my health. No pretzel rolls, hot bacon dressing or shoo-fly pie.
Oh, right. My story.
Since I’m going to be in Bloomsburg for the whole year, I came with the mission of Meeting People. I’m living alone (in a fabulous apartment, by the way), and teach four days a week. What could I do to meet people, and maybe even Make A Friend. My landlord told me about the Town Park Tennis Program. (yes, all caps.) Apparently, back in the day, someone endowed a tennis program so kids could take free tennis clinics in the summer. They offer an adult class, too—four weeks, eight classes, for $15. Do I play tennis? Absolutely not. Do I think I’ll be good at tennis? Not a bit? But will I look ridiculous in order to meet people? You bet.
Tonight I’m walking to the park (yeah, that’s the best part, I can WALK. Hear me Texas?!) and as I’m nearing the courts I don’t see any of our coaches. And there are tennis balls scattered everywhere. Seriously, it looked like the rapture had just happened, and it started at the Bloomsburg Town Park Tennis Courts. Eerie. One of the other pupils pulled up with kids and dog in tow. As we’re standing around wondering where they are, they drive up, hop out of their cars, squeezing water out of their shorts and t-shirts.
They had been at the rope swing, they reported with such disaffected tone. ROPE SWING?! we two adults responded. (The both of us being recent transplants knew nothing about a rope swing.) Then their eyes lit up. How did we feel about relocating tennis to the rope swing? In the meantime a third lady-student showed up, a little less enthusiastic, but curious nonetheless. After a shortened class (and I think we all played a little harder, to be honest), we piled in cars and drove beyond the fairgrounds, to the river, and behold! The Rope Swing. So there we were, the group of college-student-tennis-coaches, and adult pupils (me and two moms), taking turns swinging off a rope into the Susquehanna (or more properly, Fishing Creek, which runs into the Susquehanna). Obviously the svelte coaches were a little more successful at hurling their bodies far out, and turning the splash into a stunt. I feel like I have actually submerged (pun most definitely intended) into summer. Dripping wet, kinda dirty, river debris in my hair. Nice. Right on the edge of dusk we parted ways, wondering if we’d actually play tennis next week. And I showered, put on my pajamas, made a huge salad, and settled into some t.v and my dinner at 9:15 in the evening.