A Certain Point of View: Writing, Film and Stuff

  “There’s a Place for Us”: South Miami Senior High School/Music Department Wing, Chorus Practice Room   I entered Room 136 shortly after the last school bell of the day – the “dismissal bell,” as it was officially called – rang at 2:30 in the afternoon. As always, the hallways in all three floors of South Miami High School’s yellow bunker-like building were full of 10 th , 11 th , and 12 th graders skedaddling from their sixth-period classes and, with the exception of those of us who participated in after-school activities and clubs such as yearbook production, the then-new Cobra Media Production club, basketball, baseball, and other spring term sports teams’ practices, and music students who needed to practice their instrument or singing, were eager to either go home or go to their first part-time jobs outside of school. For five, maybe 10 minutes, the hallways and staircases echoed with the sounds of (mostly) sneakered feet pounding on the floor and loud, cheerful teen...

  2 A Parley at Lunchtime 12:20 PM, Near the End of First Lunch   “You did what now?” Mark Prieto’s expression was a mix of thunderstruck surprise and wry amusement as I finished telling him about my upcoming solo in the 1981 Winter Concert, which was less than one week away. We were seated at our usual table in the school cafeteria – a round table normally seated five or six people at a time – a short distance from the teachers’ lounge and the main corridor leading to the school’s first floor. As usual, the room was filled with a cacophony of sounds as several hundred adolescents sat in clusters at the other tables, gossiping, joking, bitching about how much homework Mr. or Mrs. X handed out daily, guessing about mid-year exams and grades, or even arguing about the Miami Dolphins’ waning season. There were even spats between teenage lovers, usually based on rumors that one half of the couple was cheating on the other. And, of course, the murmurs and laughs and occ...

  A Moment in the Park   Maddie and I walk in Central Park, feeling the sun on our faces and the snow crunching under our feet. It's a beautiful day for late February. The air is crisp and fresh, and even though the forecast calls for more snow later, perhaps as early as tonight, right now the sky is a bright blue. Just right. We've been here for a while, exploring the park and its wonders. We've seen so many things. So many people. So much diversity. We've seen children of all colors building snowmen and dogs of all breeds chasing squirrels. We've seen couples of all orientations cuddling on benches and seniors of all backgrounds feeding pigeons. We've seen athletes of all fitness levels jogging and biking and skating. We've seen artists and musicians and performers of all kinds. We've heard a symphony of sounds. A harmony of noises. A melody of music. We've heard birds singing and leaves whispering. We've heard cars honking and sire...

   3 Moonlight Serenade, or: "Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow..."   We go back to our table after our dance. The Swinging Millers are playing their encore, Moonlight Serenade . The dance floor is nearly empty now, and most of the patrons are either sitting at their tables or getting ready to go. Maddie and I sit in silence, listening to the music. She looks gorgeous in her sky-blue dress. It contrasts nicely with her hazel eyes, which sparkle in the dim light. There's a matching jacket in her bag from Book Culture, along with some books she bought earlier. I wonder what they are, but I don't ask. I don't want to spoil the mystery. The song ends, and the band thanks the audience for their applause. Maddie looks at her watch and sighs. "It's late," she says. "I should get going." "Me too," I say. Before we go, Maddie snatches a napkin and a pen from our table, flashing me a mischievous grin. We head to the coat check, w...