>Cobblers of the Apocalypse

>I like my cobbler. He’s a Korean-American guy who moved to the OC when he was 11, early enough so that his English is pure Socal. And he dresses exactly like Don Ho, in lurid Hawaiian shirts. His thick hair is swept back like Elvis and he’s got great silver streaks in it.

The last time I was there he told me that when he came here, he was the only Korean kid in his high school. ‘And there was one Chinese girl,’ he said. Things sure have changed in the OC – probably two thirds of my students are first or second generation East Asians.

Then he started asking me if I thought the world was on the verge of a big change.

What kind of change? I said.

I don’t know, he said. But don’t you see the signs? I mean, all kinds of things are happening all over the place. War, destruction, market crashes, environmental problems. It’s kind of like the end of the world.

I guess you’re right, I said. Let’s just hope it happens when we’re dead and gone. [Apres moi, le deluge].

I realized then that I didn’t know anything about my cobbler.

No, he said. I want to see it. I want things to change.