Fragment 5
December 7, 2009
I will always remember the exact date and time I became a chronophile. Sunday, June 14, 1992, at 9:30 pm actually. Though nearly four years ago, this is still the greatest curse/blessing of my life so far. This day stands out because it’s the day I learned about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls.
This night is where I go every time I feel bad, mad, unhappy for any reason at all. It started with Paul Carol, my best friend of the time. Paul was having a Chicago Bulls NBA finals birthday party at his house that night.
Recalling the memory of how cold it was that night in Augusta, Michigan, he wondered for a second if this wasn’t a bad memory. When mom and dad walked through the door after spending all day picking berries in the field, Pops was already drunk; momma said she was too tired to drive anywhere. Well, the temper tantrum I threw next got me the tanning I deserved, and with each passing minute, I felt my heart sinking lower into my chest.
When Pops went to sleep, momma came into my room and told me she would take me to the party. At 9:30 precisely, I arrived in time to watch the entire second half of game 6 of the 1992 NBA finals. Michael Jordan scored 26 points to defeat the Portland TrailBlazers 97-93.
