This article will be in the “Chapters” section of my memoir-in-progress, Greatest Hits of Junior High, a Memoir of Friends, Bullies, Girls, and Catholics (Illustrated).Continue reading “Bullyland, Part I”
This article will be in the “Special Features” (appendix) section of my book-in-progress, Greatest Hits of Junior High, a Memoir of Friends, Bullies, Girls, and Catholics (Illustrated).Continue reading “Why We Listened to Gene Pitney”
Chris Montez1 had it right. “Any old dance that you wanna do.” When I was 13 at Holton-Richmond Junior High2, 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. Continue reading ““. . . the Twist, the Stomp, the Mash Potato too . . .””
To find out how I answered this, the trickiest of all job interview questions, read the following short story, which I had gotten published twenties years previously.
My last job interview occurred at Cisco Systems. I’d been working as a contractor, and soon afterwards was offered a “permanent position.” I walked into the HR office and was greeted by a chirpy young woman, perhaps in her late twenties. After some pleasantries, she settled down to serious interviewing. Continue reading “The Adventure of My Last Job Interview”
Once in a while, I welcome a little political tiff.
Once in a while, I welcome a little political tiff. Continue reading “The Day I Refused to Discuss Politics”
The first picture I ever took was of my friend Pammy Prager. I didn’t want to.
The first picture I ever took was of my friend Pammy Prager. I didn’t want to. Continue reading “First Picture I Ever Took”
Fidel Castro dead? Big deal. What about Batista?
The recent death of Cuba’s Fidel Castro has got me thinking: I am starting to miss the glorious days of Presidente Fulgencio Batista. Continue reading “Where’s Batista Now That We Need Him?”