Carolyn, my friend, partner in menopause, outer Lucy to my inner Ethel–
Thanks for yet another opportunity to claim my fifteen minutes of fame. Alas, I may be able to squeeze only sixty seconds out of this one.
True, I went to school with the Jacksons back in 1974…75? 76? Somewhere in there. However, dear Carolyn, I fear your excitement may have colored a few of the less salient facts, albeit ever-so-slightly. First of all, the Jacksons and my family did reside in the same county, but not in the same neighborhood. Nooo, that would be like saying Secretariat and Penny Chenery lived in the same house. (Secretariat=barn; Ms. Chenery=rambling country estate, if you get my drift).
Neither is it wholly accurate to suggest I hung out at Michael’s house, because…well, I didn’t. Never saw the place. My brother did, though. Once. Michael wasn’t there, but knowing my brother loved pinball machines, he invited Matthew to play in the Jackson’s home arcade. Continue reading