The story is real, and you should have changed the names
In the upside-down cake world called high school, there are certain things that can “take the edge off”. Leading the list, music and drama programs. Don’t take my word for it; tune in to the new season of Glee. Although not a realistic rendition of my own time in the trenches, I look back on my time under the baton as well spent.
High school is a special community. Forced together under rules of law and geographic proximity, you can make it out alive. And, you can construct a new life, with a new identity. I know; I did it. Which made a story from a newspaper I read recently into something with a personal flavour.
Here’s the deal. A man approached a local newspaper with a metal box he had found while helping to demolish an old house. The collection of love letters inside left him wondering what had happened to the subjects. Would their descendants like to reclaim the bundle, to be kept for posterity?
Whoa the bus! I recognized one of the names. We had gone to high school together. This wasn’t a story from a century ago. It took a matter of minutes to find out that she had married he, and that she had continued to hold an interest in amateur drama.
I’m not ready to write the conclusion to the ill-researched story from that newspaper. Surely, there is a spark of journalistic ability in that small town, and this strange glimpse into the (not so distant) past will go beyond a muddled tale of a box found in the ruins of a house.
