This is Erik?
Eric?
Air-Rick?
Air-Ick? The postman for our apartment complex. We had a great conversation today (sparked by my hair, actually). Through talk with him I found that only three of the 15-20 apartments in my complex have residents, so basically the place, while nicer than most Waco Apts, is a ghosttown.
Eric was telling me of all the crazy hair things he had when he was an undergrad in the 90s. I told him to put some pictures in our mailbox and I would comment on them with some post-its.
The boys in apartment 9 are HUGE soccer fans w/ a 56in TV. I told them that it was too bad I wasn't moved in for the World Cup. I'd take watching a game w/ Hannah and Ross anytime over a 56in television.
Texas is nothing like home, and I am not sure it ever will feel like it is home, but I do feel a bit of affirmation about being here.
Final note: I have to read "Courage and Calling" for my assistantship retreat, so if anyone has read it and has some thoughts or authority for me, let me know.
1 comment:
So, the postman always rings twice before giving up.
Feel free to call again, and again... The Beards may be famous for whole wheat spaghetti on Wednesday nights, but we are also infamous for not answering our phone.
Maybe we could send you a letter, at least that way you get to visit with the postman. :)
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