The driver looked back at me through the small mirror and asked, “How long you been here?”
“Two months in Asia, one month in the Philippines!” I shouted.
“You’re so dark you could be Filipino!” he exclaimed, laughing.
It was true. I hadn’t been that golden since I was eight and spent every day of summer by the lake. I secretly loved my tan… growing up in the 70s will do that to you. I still remember my aunt Char, who was the coolest adult I knew, lying for hours on the tar roof of her apartment building covered in baby oil with a sheet of aluminum foil under her face. Continue reading