What To Stock In Your Bomb Shelter's Pantry

[dr_pretentious]

We're home from a family reunion in the Adirondacks. One night, when I was up until all hours with my cousins and sister, and some of us were a sheet or two to the wind, my sister suddenly started inspecting the print on the bag of chips we were passing around.

"Sarah, when do these chips expire?"

It wasn't her dyslexia tricking her, either. Anybody might have looked at an expiration date of SEP3011 and seen Thousand Year Chips. Yeah, I know what the manufacturer must have intended, but it amused us plenty.

Comments

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

I still have a folder of your poems, too. And that photo of you on the snow-horse in Russia is magnetized to my fridge. I keep meaning to get a copy made for you.

Your reminiscences about growing up in your tiny town resonate so much for me. Forestport is even tinier, and it's the place my parents always knew they could retreat to. Retreating there for a week or a summer is a fine thing. I feel a very deep connection with Forestport--when eventually I'm buried, it will be in the family plot--but I am so grateful I didn't have to spend my adolescence there.