
Thirty-Four Years with the City.
Fifteen of them as a lifeguard, saving bodies from drowning. Somewhere around year fifteen I noticed I had become hard-hearted. A coworker used to swipe the anger creases between my eyes to remind me not to look so mad. I was laughing for all the wrong reasons, and then I wasn’t really laughing at all.
So I shaved my head, sold my townhouse, got rid of everything I owned, and took a year off. My family told me not to go. I went anyway.









