To my knees

Dear knees,

I thank you for your service. It’s been a rough 17 years, I know. Ever since the summer before 11th grade, you (left knee and right knee. I’m sorry I never named you guys) started acting up. Oh, I remember running through the pain you guys were inflicting on me. Or yourselves. Which, you know, hurts me too, since you guys are attached to my body.

I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. My running days were over. I quit the track team, and began drinking chocolate Yoohoo in excess whilst sitting on the internet all night. What? You’re saying I did that even WHEN I ran track? Fine, you’re right. But this letter isn’t about my bad habits. It’s about my bad knees. Sorry, guys, was that mean? I know you didn’t mean to develop cartilage damage. I know you didn’t mean to attach yourselves to a woman (NOT sexist! Women are just more likely to develop knee issues!)

Anyway, Lefty and Righty (I got creative with the knee names here) I stopped running for many years, until sometime in my mid 20s when I decided I was in dire need of some sort of exercise. Naturally, the memories of running flooded back to every part of my body, except my knees, because I seemed to have forgotten that my two knees were total shit and I shouldn’t be running.

Stop crying, lefty. This isn’t about YOU, it’s about ME. Oh wait. This is about you, isn’t it? Sorry.

Knees, I ran constantly from ages 25 through 30. You served me well, and you did your best. Slowly, you wore away your cartilage, and you pained me regularly. (Also emotionally, when you didn’t invite me to the dance party you threw with my elbows)

However, life is a sad affair, and all good things must come to an end. Even things that were good but also hurt like a motherfucker. You know, like jogging 25 miles per week while developing arthritis.

That’s right, knees. You fuckers gave me arthritis. Or did I give YOU arthritis? Knees, I am not sure. But we’re in this together, for life. I promise I won’t replace you with creepy fake knees, and I’ll try my hardest to make sure no further damage is done to you.

I’m ready, if you are, to mourn the end of my running career. Knees, if you’ll be so kind as to pass me that running shoe…Thank you, lefty. You have a great throwing arm for an arthritic knee attached to a 33 year old woman.

:throws running shoe into fire:

Thus is the end of my running. My knees tried to wait until my 60s before they degenerated, but such is life. I got nearly 10 years of running, so I am happy for that.

Life goes on, and we must accept the changes. Who knows what is next for me and my knees?

Definitely not crossfit. Or lunges. But, you know, maybe chess.

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A stroll down memory lane, as experienced through the lens of a townie

‘Wanna go to Blockbuster? It’s right here!’ I deliver this ‘hilarious’ joke to many unfortunate recipients every time I drove past the H&R Block building on Washington Street in Weymouth- Or, as I like to call it, The Blockbuster building. I’m sorry, but I just can’t let go of the nostalgia that floods my head every time I drive by that Blockbuster.

Late fees!

Be kind, rewind!

Oh no, the movie isn’t in stock! Now we have to do something else with our lives while we patiently await the existence of some internet-based TV watching mechanism!

Sure, maybe someone in 2025 will drive by that old building, (which will probably be a condo by then..) and jokingly say, ‘Wanna go file our taxes?! haha!’ But I just don’t see it happening.

Taxes don’t fill the heart with glee. Memories of late fees, strolling aisles for the latest VHS hits, and stocking up on overpriced popcorn and soda flood the brain with joy.

As you may know, there is another Blockbuster in Weymouth. It’s across from Mary Lou’s coffee shop. NO, it is NOT a bank. How can you even THINK it is a bank? Just because it says TD Bank out front, and it has a bank drive-thru, and, well, it’s a bank?

Well, dear reader, you’re simply misinformed. That building is a Blockbuster Video. Sure, it closed over ten years ago, but that doesn’t matter. The memories of Blockbuster Video will eternally reside in that building. You can take the VHS and DVDs out of a building, but you can’t take the aura of VHS and DVDs out of the building. Next time you walk into that bank, or even within 40 feet of that building, just take a close listen. You will hear the soft, reassuring sound of a VHS tape being rewound.

And you might even hear the laughter emanating from a 9 year old circa 1994, taking home a VHS tape of Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit.

Listen.

What a wonderful sound.

Yes, that 9 year old is me. You are welcome to come over and watch Sister Act 2 with me. We will fast forward through the previews, enjoy the movie, and then forget to return the movie within the 3 day mark, thus incurring a late fee.

Ah, the good old days.

Blockbusters of Weymouth, I still miss you. Now excuse me, I have to go scroll endlessly through Netflix and never pick a TV show to watch.