About Me

I don’t go over the hill much since I live in the Valley but that day I was there, in Beverly Hills, stopped at a light and dumbfounded by the man in a jet pack flying overhead though he was still but a speck in my rearview mirror. My pulse raced. My breath quickened. Human flight was a reality. “Please don’t change.  Please don’t change,” I said to the traffic light Gods. The red light held. I glanced at the people in the cars next to me to see if they saw what I saw. It was an oblivious bunch: a woman on the phone, a teen eyeballing a cute girl, a business man all business. Was it so common here that no one paid attention? I turned in my seat. The flying man was now close enough to see clearly through the back window of my car. I squinted. I laughed. I shook my head. It was Sponge Bob. And as Sponge Bob Square Pants floated by legs dangling on the wind, I thanked my imagination for being such an entertaining friend.