Painted Cows

I found these painted cows on Church Street in Burlington. Looking at them now, I'm intrigued that one of them holds a city on it's body, and another a plane flying through the clouds. Big city life and flying away, the two things I longed for as a teenager.

When I got my license at 16 it made things possible, and whenever I could, I would drive to Burlington. There were kids there who had asymmetrical hair cuts, big fluorescent earrings, paint splattered T-shirts, blazers with shoulder pads and skinny ties. Sometimes I got to take jazz dance classes at the Main Street Dance studio, and with its mirrors and wood floors I felt just like I was on Fame. I spent hours down in the basement that was Pure Pop records where I found albums by The Clash, U2, Joan Armatrading, and the Talking Heads.

My record player was everything to me then. When I had to take Shop class, most of my classmates made gun racks while I made a little stand out of wood for its chunky speaker. Sometimes, on really clear nights, if I moved the record player just right, I could get the college station, WRUV, on the radio. And I would lay in bed and listen to New Order, Laurie Anderson, and Joy Division, over the sound of crickets, while gazing at the stars.