A Day In The Life Of An Iron-Boy
These cobalt blue skies of September, so typical of Colorado, are much rarer an occurrence in the Northeast of Pennsylvania between Scranton and Carbondale. Still, they transport me back to the days of dirt bikes and the iron-boys with whom I rode motocross bikes. We, that piloted them, were the grandsons of Ellis Island immigrants who scraped their way to America aboard steaming, lurching ships to mine coal, build skyscrapers and grow gardens and grapes for wine. We had the luxury of navigating those same mining roads, not on our way to work as our fathers had done but in leisure, pure ecstasy in fact, on two wheels and even more often, one. These were also the days that followed the burning of three of the ancient high schools built in those days order to speed the budgetary approval process required to build a new one. The result was a time/space conundrum that allowed us to live in Nirvana. Namely, three years of half day school session for our 7th, 8th and 9th grade years. Th...