I realize the title of this blog reads like “hippie hippie bla bla bla” but bear with me, I promise a giggle. (If you’re me you might even giggle, snort, and then pee yourself just a little.)

It was during the blizzards of 2003, I was a senior at Towson University earning my creative writing degree- ::I wave my arm gracefully a-la Vanna White across the wonder that is my blog:: One morning we woke up between snowstorms and our on-campus apartment was out of some essentials- milk, Nacho cheese, Natty Boh…. so I volunteered to go to the store. As I drove across the parking lots I started to pass this woman in her early 20s wearing a long sleeve shirt, knit hat and flip-flops. I pulled over and offered her a ride. Frostbite is no one’s friend. She was from Alaska.


As we drove to the grocery store (where we were both headed) we talked about how different Maryland is and her name (don’t remember) her major (don’t remember). When we walked into the store we started in the dairy isle. She reached for something I hadn’t really noticed before: organic milk in a bright red box.

“Whats that?”

“Organic milk?”

“Yeah, I mean, what’s the difference.”

::insert long complicated description of hormones in dairy cows, pesticides on produce, and weed killer- everywhere::

Healthy eating is one thing, but this is some next level shit right here.

So many details about that day are lost in my memory. But the flip flops, the rainbow colored hand-knit snow hat, and the conversation that was the beginning of something- that’s what remains.

I never saw that girl again, (even though we lived in the same building) but if I did, I’d tell her how she was an integral domino in a beautiful cascade.