Monday, September 15, 2008

A big, yellow rite of passage

I realize that in other cultures, coming of age requires far more demanding rites of passage than in ours -- whether it's spending a year alone in the wild, or being scarred with a branding iron or performing a wedgie on a water buffalo.
But coming of age is coming of age. And I wish to go on record as being completely against it.
A few days ago a big yellow school bus stopped at our corner, opened its big baleen mouth and took my boy away.
I was supposed to be OK with it all. I'm not. This is my story: