What 's On the Outside of My Bag:

It’s colorful, almost like a ‘60s psychedelic bag. Peace signs all over it, man, and the characiture of a VW bus! The van I drive is big and ponderous, not at all like those vintage, compact things, but it’s got some dents and looks old and pretty dilapidated, so I think it qualifies.

The outside of my bag is easy-going and good-natured. A little crazy now and then–boy, doesn’t mom yell, sometimes? What’s with her bag, then, man? And the kids look at the face on my colorful bag, and they say, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I say, and then I plaster the smile to my face because they’re my KIDS, man! If mom isn’t in control, who is?!? I gotta be in control, maintain, keep it smooth and good. So I carry my psychedelic bag with the colorful outside.

I have to be real, though, and admit that sometimes I turn the bag inside-out, and then it’s only black. The black isn’t as interesting as the multi-colors. It’s boring and my kids don’t like it, my students don’t like it. I don’t like it. But I can’t help it, and even though I can’t I get MAD when it goes inside-out. Only the colorful, man. Only the colorful.