A Call to Arms
The following public service announcment comes to us from Ryan Olah. If this essay doesn't inspire you to start writing and contributing, nothing will. It's incredible in every way. This guy WILL write a bestseller someday.
Two things, however:
1) I am NOT the author of this site. I'm just a guy with a guitar, pouring his heart out.
But really, this site is meant to be a collection of authors. If you've got something good to say, we'd love for you to join us.
2) Just so there's no confusion: Bridgeton Legends is not meant to be limited to Lake Street Legends. We'll take any neighborhood, any era, as long as it's Bridgeton-related. But don't expect to top Lake Street Legends for sheer absurdity. And trust me, we've got a brutal group of witnesses so there will be no doubt by the time we're through: this shit happened.
Prepare to be inspired...
My Past Is Catching Up With Me
by Ryan Olah
Something I've failed to tell you before this point in our relationship: I was a warchild. Dear readers, please welcome the newest blog on the block, Bridgeton Legends. It just so happens that it's about everything that's happened on my block of origin. It's weird, the site is authored by Kyle, the guy who puts more work into holaolah than I do, and he's recruiting the old gang to immortalize the tales of the old neighborhood and town.
I'm excited and scared. Excited because there's a lot of gold in these stories. We had a very rich upbringing and there are laughs a plenty to be had by the readers/hearers of these legends. I guess the scared part comes with the fact that these stories are finally being put down. We'll no longer have the oral tradition to tell around the fires when we take our firstborn out into the woods to teach them the old ways of digging trenches for the impending Russian invasion, how to use a Wiffleball bat as a rock launcher, building match-head bombs, and the lengths that some of us will go to to complete our G.I. Joe collections.
The Lakestreetians will now be chronicled, and the embellishments might cease. We'll have to come to a communally agreed upon version of the truth. There is a danger in documentation, we might lose the flourish of a new voice in the retelling of our old tales. If I do commit the story of the "Fire on the Wire," will I truly be able to capture my father's pride in the event? Can I write it in such a way that will convey his tears of joy in making Mrs. Morvay lose her steaks? Another reason I am kinda dreading this venture goes something like this -- the legends that I am involved with usually end up with me being embarrassed or preyed upon in some way. The legend titled "Rusty's Cage" will basically end with me being captured by the older guys on the block and thrown into the pen of Kyle's horn-dog Golden Retriever, Rusty. To make a long story short, Rusty was a sexual predator, and the kids on my block stood outside his cage laughing as Rusty, well, used me as his bitch. Fun times. This is the reason that I prefer cats.
But really, all of the above can be chalked up to fear. At least we'll be doing something deliberate to try and get this stuff down. That's worth a lot. I think we can tackle all those previously mentioned concerns as they come up. For now, we're starting something, and that speaks volumes about the people of my hometown. There's no more saving this stuff for a rainy day -- waiting till someone pays us to write them or until one of us finds some sweet writing gig somewhere which probably won't happen. I do still think that Mr. Ira Glass and his "This American Life" radio-show should take notice of this cache of great storytelling.
It's like the old neighborhood gang is calling me out to play "Hide & Go Seek Army," or calling me out to fight for some reason I don't understand. There's no point in staying inside anymore, there's nothing on TV. The real life is outside, on the street. I guess I'll go out and play. And if they try and throw me into a dog pen again, make no mistake, I will fight any beast that attempts to have his way with me.
Let's write.
E-mail stories to getaholdofkyle@yahoo.com
Two things, however:
1) I am NOT the author of this site. I'm just a guy with a guitar, pouring his heart out.
But really, this site is meant to be a collection of authors. If you've got something good to say, we'd love for you to join us.
2) Just so there's no confusion: Bridgeton Legends is not meant to be limited to Lake Street Legends. We'll take any neighborhood, any era, as long as it's Bridgeton-related. But don't expect to top Lake Street Legends for sheer absurdity. And trust me, we've got a brutal group of witnesses so there will be no doubt by the time we're through: this shit happened.
Prepare to be inspired...
My Past Is Catching Up With Me
by Ryan Olah
Something I've failed to tell you before this point in our relationship: I was a warchild. Dear readers, please welcome the newest blog on the block, Bridgeton Legends. It just so happens that it's about everything that's happened on my block of origin. It's weird, the site is authored by Kyle, the guy who puts more work into holaolah than I do, and he's recruiting the old gang to immortalize the tales of the old neighborhood and town.
I'm excited and scared. Excited because there's a lot of gold in these stories. We had a very rich upbringing and there are laughs a plenty to be had by the readers/hearers of these legends. I guess the scared part comes with the fact that these stories are finally being put down. We'll no longer have the oral tradition to tell around the fires when we take our firstborn out into the woods to teach them the old ways of digging trenches for the impending Russian invasion, how to use a Wiffleball bat as a rock launcher, building match-head bombs, and the lengths that some of us will go to to complete our G.I. Joe collections.
The Lakestreetians will now be chronicled, and the embellishments might cease. We'll have to come to a communally agreed upon version of the truth. There is a danger in documentation, we might lose the flourish of a new voice in the retelling of our old tales. If I do commit the story of the "Fire on the Wire," will I truly be able to capture my father's pride in the event? Can I write it in such a way that will convey his tears of joy in making Mrs. Morvay lose her steaks? Another reason I am kinda dreading this venture goes something like this -- the legends that I am involved with usually end up with me being embarrassed or preyed upon in some way. The legend titled "Rusty's Cage" will basically end with me being captured by the older guys on the block and thrown into the pen of Kyle's horn-dog Golden Retriever, Rusty. To make a long story short, Rusty was a sexual predator, and the kids on my block stood outside his cage laughing as Rusty, well, used me as his bitch. Fun times. This is the reason that I prefer cats.
But really, all of the above can be chalked up to fear. At least we'll be doing something deliberate to try and get this stuff down. That's worth a lot. I think we can tackle all those previously mentioned concerns as they come up. For now, we're starting something, and that speaks volumes about the people of my hometown. There's no more saving this stuff for a rainy day -- waiting till someone pays us to write them or until one of us finds some sweet writing gig somewhere which probably won't happen. I do still think that Mr. Ira Glass and his "This American Life" radio-show should take notice of this cache of great storytelling.
It's like the old neighborhood gang is calling me out to play "Hide & Go Seek Army," or calling me out to fight for some reason I don't understand. There's no point in staying inside anymore, there's nothing on TV. The real life is outside, on the street. I guess I'll go out and play. And if they try and throw me into a dog pen again, make no mistake, I will fight any beast that attempts to have his way with me.
Let's write.
E-mail stories to getaholdofkyle@yahoo.com
posted by Kyle at 8:23 PM
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