Voices from the past:

I'm not sure what it says about me that I have absolutely no contact with anyone that I knew pre-20 years old aside from certain members of my family.

My adolescence was painful, like everyone else's, and when I got the fuck out of Union I was not sorry and have never looked back. My biggest memories of childhood involve being alone -- not lonely, though that too, sometimes. The teen years were messy, confusing and very depressing. High school sucked hard enough for me to refuse to go back for my senior year. Regrets on that front: none. I only wish I had been smart enough to leave that situation even sooner.

I moved to Texas when I was 18/19 and have never given one thought to anyone from NJ since then. [Oh wait -- not exactly true. Up until a few years ago, I was still in touch with my first real boyfriend, Jon and my second real best friend, Jeff. But they both went to Seton Hall (the private Catholic school) and both were 2 years older than me.] There's very little in Austin to compare to NJ, and so I happily didn't -- except to relish Kevin Smith movies.

Even once I moved to SF, where there is quite a crossover with East and West coasts, (there are real live Jews here!) Union's working class roots have kept me safe from renewed contact. Sure, there are lots of kids from Springfield, Maplewood, Morristown, Short Hills, Rumson and Red Hook out here... but they don't know me. Or, they know as much as I know when they tell me where they're from: class difference.

And so I didn't know what to expect from myself when two days ago my phone rang at work and I heard a hearty greeting from a certain J.P., a guy in the year ahead of me who I vaguely knew back in those days. I remember him in that he was the only person at our school who got double 800s on his SATs and was subsequently accepted at Cornell. We were in advanced French class together, I think, but we never hung out. Maybe we went to a Sugarcubes concert?

To my dismay, it turns out that J.P. is now living in SF, and has been for 3 years. He wants to get together to catch up, etc. etc. I stammered and said I couldn't really talk since I was busy at work. True, but also I wanted to stall for time.

Moments later, I get an e-mail from a certain B.J. Now B.J. I remember quite well. He was also a year ahead of me, and I believe we met in photography class. His e-mail indicated that J.P. had just forwarded him my info, so clearly these two people are somehow in contact with one another. Which I found odd. Considering. Maybe high school wasn't as bad as I remember? Maybe it wasn't as bad for them?

B.J. was the first black guy I was ever involved with. He was very slightly built, had excellent fashion sense and was pretty smart. We used to pass cryptic notes to one another in the halls. He got a lot of shit from the other black kids for going out with me... but nowhere near as much shit as I got from the black girls. I am still afraid of East Coast black girls to this day. I was labeled a 'yammie' for dating B.J. and was told from both sides "once you go black, you never go back" but the meaning was very different from either/or.

I am pretty sure I took his virginity, but I can't remember exactly, because I think he tried to pretend that he wasn't. A virgin, that is. He was less favorably endowed then I had been lead to believe by common stereotype, and certainly less so then other black men I later had occasion to witness, but there was nothing lacking there either. I remember having sex with him in his bedroom in Vauxhall, which is the section of town where the black people of Union live. It was hardly a bedroom, more an alcove, a pantry off the kitchen with room for little more than a bed. It was late afternoon, almost dark, and we were rushing, hoping that no-one would come home. Partly, because I was white, and partly, for, well, the more obvious reason. Sure, the badness was part of the thrill, but everything in high school was an experiment in badness. At least for me, it was. B.J. was a nice guy, as far as I can remember, though it was clear to me that he was dating me mostly because he was aware of my bad reputation. He knew I was more then just a slutty bad girl but in the end (after I got busted giving him head in the darkroom) he got scared of me. In that high school way that happens, the relationship sort of drifted to an ending without it ever being really formally discussed. Soon after, like all the rest of the stupid boys, his tales joined the other rumors about me. I was a little hurt, since I knew that he knew otherwise, but I wasn't surprised, either.