IN WHICH I subtly learn the obvious art of conflict
Paul Dabuse was the toughest kid in seventh grade. I knew this because I once saw him fight. That was enough to brand him as someone not to be messed with.
Chris Montez1Let’s Dance had it right. “Any old dance that you wanna do.” When I was 13 at Holton-Richmond Junior High2School Web Site, attending class in wooden desks with dried-up ink wells, I used to go to the school dances that happened third Friday each month. They were called “mixers,” because that’s what the girls and boys were supposed to do. Mix with adults gaping on. Of course not many of us did. The concept of a sock hop, with minimal supervision and an outta sight disk jockey, was yet to be in Danvers, Massachusetts.