May 26, 2014
For months now Everyone in Pittsburgh has been obsessed with the bald eagles. The eagles chose to nest along one of the rivers and then some organization put up a camera, so people could --and they do-- watch the eagles 24/7. My grandma, who just recently got a new computer (because her last was too ancient to load YouTube videos), updates me every time I see her on what the bald eagles are up to Then when inevitably some stranger at the book store tells me about what the bald eagles are up to, my fake conversation is that much more convincing. I never cared much about the bald eagles. --- L and I were on a road trip to Ithaca, New York, made possible by generous work holidays for Memorial Day. We talked about the bald eagles and how everyone seemed to care except us The car broke down on the highway and we were just barely able to pull over on a long straight exit ramp. Steam poured out from under the hood, and burning coolant made a sweet smell not dissimilar to artificial maple syrup. We waited on the shoulder of the exit ramp in the early summer sun without so much as a radio (because the car, also, wouldn't start), for a tow truck that would take us back home while we make awkward conversation with the truck driver on the bench seat in the cab of his truck. While my knee was crammed up against the gear shift (which required constant use), he told us about his love for the job and about his family's health problems and about his 7-year-old granddaughter who was a psychic and could talk to dead people and the church thinks she's talking to angels. But he doesn't believe in any of that stuff. We waited on the shoulder of the exit ramp from 9:00 am till 12:30 pm. We were two hours out of Pittsburgh, in a town called Bald Eagle, PA.