I got my very first job at McDonald’s when I was 15. I liked it. I liked the striped shirt, the red tie, the matching trucker hat and the grey slacks. Many girls worked there, too, which I also liked.
I love swimming. I love the feel of gliding through the water. I love reaching my hand as far as I can for the most distance. I have a strong kick and an even stronger paddle. I focus on the
“Let’s go, Chris!” “I’m coming!” I shouted in a whisper. It was the summer of 1992. I was a teenager. My best friend, Johnny, had been stealing his step-dad’s shiny new Lincoln Continental every weekend and picking me up at