Freshmen

The man on the far right: In English class in 1980, I sat behind him and once dropped a wad of paper down the back of his shirt just so I could fish it out and lightly touch his shoulder-blades in the process. (Two years later, a girl would do the same to/for me with a leaf and I'd fall in love.) 

 

He was little and lithe then, his dad a local banker, with a head of bushy dark hair and short-sleeved knit shirts bought from Sears.