AL'S WOOD

A friend of mine, Al Williams, recently resigned from his position as a writing teacher. Why, during uncertain economic times where jobs are few and far between, especially jobs for English teachers, would he pick up and leave a job that was his so long as he did not royally screw up? Love. Oregon. Yes, love and Oregon. You have to give Al props. He is taking a chance on a girl who lives in Oregon. Granted, he will be living it up in Portland, but regardless, Al has left what he has known as the familiar (VERY Eastern LI) and is currently venturing toward what I hope will be a fulfilling leg on this next journey of his life.
Enough of the mushy stuff. Al and I have had our own bonding experience by the way of Project Runway. Despite the declining drama and lackluster designers, Al has pushed me to continue my viewing of the show. Our conversations had forged a bond that enabled me to feel comfortable enough to acknowledge a serious issue I had with Al; the driftwood displayed in the rear windshield of his Saturn. I am a firm believer that a rear windshield is not a shelving opportunity. People with stuffed animals in their “rears” really freak me out. Are these animals extras that do not fit on their bed? Are they winnings from one of those claw machines in the game room at Nathan’s? WTF? Even a box of tissues; what good will that box of tissues proudly displayed in the rear windshield of a car do you when you are driving and have to clear out a snot rocket? So, when I my eyes locked with Al’s wood, I wondered why the hell did he choose to display it in his car? Did he stumble upon this idea on Bravotv.com while checking out the Runway blog? Did he see this in Car and Driver? Basically, Al’s reason was as unsatisfying as a piece of dry toast. He just liked it there.
So it was fitting, that upon checking my mailbox at school, I noticed a familiar piece of lumber nestled amongst random crap that I had yet to thumb through. Yes, you guessed it. In my box, was Al’s wood. I was touched. Walking through the hall with this smooth souvenir of marine debris, colleagues questioned what I was doing. My response: “I’m looking for Al to thank him for giving me his wood.”
Al’s wood is packed up in my metal cabinet, but it will make its debut this fall amongst my display of pictures and various glass paper weights which I collect. I truly appreciate the token Al has bestowed upon me and hope that he finds happiness wherever he ends up. In some ways this is a bit poetic. Driftwood washes up on a shore, weathered and worn, perhaps traveling hundreds or thousands of miles. The wood could have been part of a boat, or served as home to some sort of sea life, yet if it washes up the shore and someone stumbles upon it. That someone picks it up and then displays it in their windshield; a new sea. Then, it is passed on to another and for as long as some will remember, it will be known as “Al’s Wood”.