The Kids Weren’t Alright

Alright, alright, alright... It was summer 1982 at the local clam festival. My best friend and I weaved through the crowds that reeked of coconut sunscreen, ganja, and fried dough. Asia's "Heat of the Moment" blasted from a boom box in the distance. Determined with a laser-focus only an 11-year-old could possess, we zeroed in …

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Fashion Just Ain’t My Bag, Baby

When I was around 2 years old, I used to parade around the house wearing nothing but footy pajamas, a droopy diaper and a backwards Red Sox baseball hat. My chubby cherubic face was always sporting either a milk mustache or a peanut butter grin; my hands constantly covered in grime and dog slobber. (I lived with …

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