[FRIAM] words for Nick (political-words focused)

[jon zingale]

For most of my life, my father has lived two blocks from Lake Erie, and like
any Great Lakes raised rust-belter, I was raised with a healthy fear of
large bodies of water (and the alien lifeforms beneath the surface). This
fear was only exacerbated when at the age of 3 or 4 my mother and stepfather
thought it would be funny to have me bathe with the lobster we would cook
for dinner that night. To this day, I still have a very difficult time
entering a lake or river. Then in 2006, while living between New Orleans and
Houma Lousiana, my feeling began to change. In the week leading up to Mardi
Gras, small barrooms offer pots of gumbo and jambalaya, and eventually,
Louisiana cooking swayed my palette (and psyche) to the fish-side. Shortly
after, I found myself hitchhiking and camping around the country with the
money I had saved from a medical secretary job a year before. At a 7-11
outside of Steamboat Springs, I flagged a ride that landed me in Portland
Oregon, where I immediately found work dishwashing at a Sushi restaurant on
Gladstone. With a bottomless miso bowl full of hot sake above the dish pit,
I developed a taste for sushi by grifting the remains left by wealthy
Portland patrons. While sushi isn't my favorite food, I can appreciate it.
Surprisingly, over the last few days, I have had an overwhelming hankering
for lobster.



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