
During the summer before starting high school, I met Steve Z at an inter-city religious youth group weekend event. We had each already peeled away from our city delegations and gone cruising for trouble.
Steve came from Detroit. He was one of 7 kids - 6 boys and 1 girl. As we got to know each other a bit better, I also developed mad crushes on at least two of his brothers. I don’t think I ever “seriously” dated anyone in my hometown. Steve was a very good sport about being imported once a year or so to escort me to some youth group

I was perpetually the rebel without a clue. Most days were spent in patched-on-patches pegleg jeans from Salvation Army (at the height of the bellbottom craze) and either homemade blouses or reworked vintage blouses. It would be fair to say I had a unique style, and even in a school of 2,000 or so students, I could not recede completely.
So every once in a while, just to keep folks guessing, I would deign to attend a school function, usually importing Steve for the occasion.


And now...it's almost too much to believe but here's the proof (left): surrounded by a sea of pastel flounces, I wore black to my spring prom. I don't know why Steve isn't in the pics; I'm sure he was my date to both events.
what a li' cutie patootie!
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