I was reading ‘The Ambassadors’, daydreaming about this day in 1971, five days before my twelfth birthday. I’d just moved from Jackson Heights to Lindenhurst, and was forcibly confronted with a blank slate.
I don’t do change well. I went from lots of friends to no friends, from St. Gabriel’s in Queens to Copiage Junior High, then to O.L.P.H., in my new neighborhood.
Turning twelve would have been creepy and gross enough anyway. For a kid like me, to have to deal with that much change was beyond scary. I laugh at it now though. Somehow I did it.
Welcome back to Rochelle’s FRIDAY FICTIONEERS , even though it’s always a Wednesday. The preceding is a true story about this day in 1971, with the exception of the Henry James book. I’m not reading that right now. This week’s photo was contributed by C.E.AYR , one of our regulars The picture above that is quite an all~time favorite of mine, of me, my oldest friends from Jackson Heights, and our mothers, at our First Communion at St. Gabriel’s in East Elmhurst. They’re the ones I was forced to trade in for absolutely no friends whatsoever in my new neighborhood.