By Jim Freeze
The year is 1957, the morning of my first day in junior high. I walked to school, just as I had my first six years.
This morning is different though, having heard news of the underground tunnel all summer. The tunnel of violence and doom runs under a busy four-lane highway; by rule, it’s the only way you’re allowed to travel.
Darkness consumes my thoughts from the moment I begin my journey.
I approach the tunnel. Questions build. Be bold, or retreat? I convince myself to turn around. To go home.
Tomorrow will be a good day to start junior high.
Very good “feeling”of that stuff that we faced at an age when we had little control. Intense.
Yes, that was junior high alright. Good job.