No, not this:
The Early Years: Vocational Guidance Counselorrrrrr …
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the early years
The (Semi) Early Years: Jim Used To Be Bendy
From the “I Can’t Do That Anymore” Department:
If only my plots were this twisty.
The Early Years: Bah Humbug
From the “Oh The Holidays Have Gotten So Commercial” department:
The Early Years: Accident-Prone Much?
From the “Doesn’t This Happen To Everyone?” Department:
The Early Years: Jim Thinks The President Gives A Crap That He Likes School
From the “I’m Chevy Chase And You’re Not” Department:
The Early Years: Jim Shares Too Much Information
When I was a kid we took regular trips to nearby attractions, “nearby” meaning “The Northeast and Atlantic Seaboard”. One of our favorite destinations was Washington, D.C., home of (at the time) very clean subways, some parks, the Smithsonian, and an unusual concentration of memorial sites. Oh also there are a lot of lobbyists there. But when I wrote this letter to my grandmother, I had bigger things on my mind than stuff like that.
