In the midst of the recent political, economic, and social uproar, I’ve kept my head down in my little house and plugged along in my memoir series called KID STUFF. It was a long haul, but I’ve now wrapped up Ashdown High III – Trying to Forget. (One more chapter to go!)

In the previous chapter, I’d abjured my insane love (platonic passion) for Annette, but that wasn’t the end of it. Three years of futilely adoring the Mouseketeer I consider to have been in fact a severe, protracted emotional trauma, resulting in posttraumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). Through the fall of 1959, that disabling psychological disorder disturbed and reshaped my adolescent self. As a classic symptom, I couldn’t quite make myself let Annette go finally and completely. Still caring for her, I decided to whittle a little wooden doll as a birthday present and formal farewell gift, which led to a blood sacrifice and burnt offerings.

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