This in no way, shape, or form relates to running, but I’m writing it down anyway: my census packet came today. That’s right, for the first time in my adult life, I am taking part in the census, and I am wiggling with puppy-ish joy at the prospect. Me! Being counted!
I loved roll call in school, though it tapered off as I progressed through the grades: It happened every day in elementary school, every class in junior high, and occasionally in high school. But then college barreled into my life, and I was once again given the art of the roll call. I got to put my hand in the air and be counted for the very first day of every single class I took (and after 148+ units, that is a pretty large number of classes, especially when you consider I always signed up for too many classes and went to all of them to see which ones felt the best).
One of my favorite attendance memories happened in band. We were being silly junior high band kids, and our diretor’s preferred method of class management was to make any goof-offs stand up. The whole class was not taking attendance with any sense of decorum, and Mr. Hendee finally announced only Here and Present were going to be acceptable words uttered, and we were only allowed to speak them when our name was called. So there I was, a typically simple and seemly individual, and out came my name. And what did I bellow, loudly and proudly? GIFT!!
Oh the wit! I was immediately asked to stand up (for the first and last time of my band-career I might add, which was lengthy and wonderful) and I was so pleased with my wordsmithery that I was not even bashful. I stood up with the same bravado, the same lacking sense of shame, and enjoyed the one moment in all of junior high when I had been truly clever.
Anyway, the census feels like the only time we as adults get to raise our hands and say, “Me! Here! Present! I count!” I’m going to relish this moment.