listening to the froggies

Two memories:

  1. Freshman year, on a dorm camping trip near the Cuyamaca Mountains. My roommate Ryan Petroff and I sneak off in the moonlight to lollygag around the forest. He grew up in the mountains in Alabama, so I just followed him around and trusted his intuition. “Listen,” he said. We stood near a pond and eavesdropped on the frogs’ conversation, before returning to whatever it is that 18-year-old lads worry about. Perhaps the young frogs were discussing the same things.

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2. My last year in San Diego, near Glider Port where the cliffs are giant, the sunset views are spectacular (and the parking is free). Sometimes Colleen would give me a ride there after work. If there was rain the day before, she’d make it a point to stop the car and roll down the windows. “Listen,” she said.

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Anyways, now I make it a point to listen to the frogs wherever I go.