Rose Mula writes:  Though I desperately wanted a boy to ask me, at the same time I was terrified that one would because I really didn’t know how to dance. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about my two left feet. The first of my friends who was invited to boogie thrust her pocketbook at me to hold before she sashayed away. The next two did the same thing. And, incredibly, I let them! So there I stood, wretched and alone, clutching my own purse and three others. I might as well have had a sign around my neck that said REJECT in large, bold letters.

More Articles

• I Remember When
• If The Cup Fits, Wear It
• Aging America: The Cities That Are Graying The Fastest
• The Day the Baby Fell in Love
• Of Horizons and Hope
• New Studies: Older People and Trust; Science Faculty’s Subtle Gender Biases
• Cuba Today
• The Holiday Hustle Hassle
• The Holidays: So Help Me, Muse . . . To Rhyme my News
• Who Would I Like to Be?