“In Annapolis, the backyard was huge, and wooded, and shady, and at a low point next to an endangered wetlands, so one-third of the time it was halfway underwater, and always muddy. Every summer we’d go out into the woods and find box turtles. We never really looked for them, they were just everywhere. We’d bring them home, put them in the backyard, feed them, name them, race them against the neighbor-kid’s turtles; keep them as pets til the fall, when we’d let them back go in the woods, wait til spring, then do it all over again. At my birthday party one year we taped balloons to their backs and let them roam around the back yard, so you’d look way back against all the brown and grey leaves and see this pink balloon making its way slowly across the back yard.
“Well, when we moved to Severna Park, we lost the woods, and the big back yard, and all that jazz, but we did have a fish pond. One day, Mom and Gary went out and spent twenty dollars on this red-eared slider from the pet store. We put it in the pond and gave it lots of food so it would want to stick around. Never saw it again. It was gone.”
“Oh man. That turtle must have been so happy! He was probably sittin’ in the tank at the pet shop like ‘Oh man. This sucks. My life is OVER,’ and he was all resigned to his prison, and then your Mom brings him home and leaves him there, and he’s like swimming around,” he starts moving his arms like he’s swimming, and looking over, “’What’s that lady, you’re seriously just leaving me here. Is this a trick?’ and he looked around, and when she was gone, he was like, ‘Ok, I can do this.’” He hopped off his chair and started bouncing around the living room on all fours. “’I am outta here! Wooo-Hooo Yeah! I’m free! No more tanks or ponds for me! I am gone!’” For a solid 45 seconds.