“No, you can’t go like that! Shorts to church. No. No. No.”
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Why did he treat everything as a fresh fact, each time he mentioned it? Couldn’t he just get on with it?
College years are a time of great learning, yet not all lessons are academic.
“You were at the wake. How could you steal from us?”
When I said, “Hi, how you doing?” this attractive brunette with a flip hairdo looked at me as if I’d spoken a foreign language. She said something back that had a “ya” in it.
Cookie’s big head, mopped with black ringlets, poked through the empty windowpane of the abandoned streetcar.
Dear Lord, don’t let me wish for what I can’t get.
10:08. Damn! His school night curfew was 10.
He christened me “Bronco Almon,” more interested in fighting than understanding. School’s a bitch. Life’s a bitch this year.
Most of my year at St. Jerome grammar school was a pleasure, but Bingo Day in the 8th grade was an exception.
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Tabulators separate ballots into piles for each presidential candidate during a recount in Dane County (Wis.) on December 1, 2016 in Madison, Wisconsin. (Getty)