The View from a Drawbridge

The random musings of a bridgetender with entirely too much time on her hands.

Back in the early 80’s, when I was 17, I was driving to a local park with an African American friend of mine to go swimming. To get to this park, you had to go miles down this rural road to its very end, then come to a stop at a T junction and make …

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Bad Words

The View from a Drawbridge

I used to work with someone who would get horrified if we used the word “toilet” in the log book. As in, “The toilet overflowed and needs to be repaired.” She said that the only acceptable word to use is “commode.” Oh my. Such fragile sensibilities must get bruised quite a bit in a world …

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