Sometimes you hear news which you know really doesn’t affect the world too much, but makes you stop and pause because of how it affects your world.
That’s how I felt a couple of weeks ago when one of my oldest friends in the world posted that the place where we worked at teenagers had closed its doors for good.
From the fall of 1984 to early 1992 (off and on, of course), I worked at Oasis, one of the permanent kiosks in Baltimore’s Harborplace. We sold fresh lemonade, Italian ice and plenty of other drinks, making the shop pretty popular on hot summer days.
One of my neighbors – the father of Paul, the guy who told me about the closing – started the business with a friend of his. That connection helped me get the job when I turned 16. I already knew most of the crew either from growing up or because my sister worked there so it made sense.
Paul’s family eventually got out of the ownership side, but I had plunged full long into the Oasis culture by then. I worked there year-round during high school, during all my breaks in college and even picked up a bunch of hours there when I found myself out of a job a year after college.
In fact, Oasis was my last job before I moved to Hanover to work for the paper more than 20 years ago. It’s kind of a bridge between my time in Baltimore and the life I have now.