Yes, You Can Go Home Again

They say that you can’t go home again. Last weekend, I did.

I vividly remember the night of my high school graduation. It was very hot and very wet.

Because of heavy rains, we were the first class, in no one could remember how long, to graduate inside the gymnasium instead of on the football field.

It was a Friday night in May, and polyester was still surviving from the 1970s in the form of our shiny purple caps and gowns.

As we all ...

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We Had A Lot Of Class

“J-O-H-N-N-Y,” I said.

Mrs. Walker looked across the desk at me and smiled. She thanked me for telling her how to spell my name. I liked Mrs. Walker from the start. She was nice to me.

It was 1968. Johnson was about to leave the White House and Nixon was soon to be elected. It was a tumultuous year for the country, and it was my first year of school.

This particular day was registration day. I said I liked Mrs. Walker, and ...

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