My high-school yearbook is online.
My page here. Kill me now.
P.S. I’m on that page twice. (Yes, that’s me in the Jane Fonda shag, swingin’ ’70s styles and ’80s scowl walking out of the graduation party.) Thank God I never bought it — the yearbook, that is.
(Pause.) OK, I was going to just post this and forget it, but I couldn’t resist a walk down memory lane. This page is a good reflection of the unfortunate truth that boys’ clothes were as stupid as girls’ — the guy in the plaid sportcoat and polka-dot bow tie is a case in point. (He died of AIDS, I heard.) The guy in the plaid sportcoat in this picture did, too — die of AIDS, that is. One of my best friends ever, and I still think of him at least once a week.
Beverly “Vacation” D’Angelo’s brother, bottom right. I saw her in a Benetton a few blocks from my old high school about a dozen years ago. The windowpane-check sportcoat on the same page was a serious partying buddy. Justin Timberlake’s uncle, top left.
Oh, stop me now, but no! Bottom row, left had the most terrifying post-spring break suntans I’ve ever seen; if he isn’t dead of melanoma by now, it won’t be long. Middle row, center: a model. Or was, anyway. Second row, left: Pretty enough to be one, but wasn’t. Top left, drove his Mercedes into a sinkhole on West Broad Street in Columbus; photo published all over the country.
OK, now I’ll stop.