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Good Morning Nanty Glo!
Tuesday, January 22 2002

That was then

Everyone broke into laughter at a riposte Virginia directed at a teenage boy in the K&B as I pushed my way out of the restaurant screendoor into the warm just-now-dark Saturday evening. Through the open windows of the UMWA Hall upstairs across Roberts Street I could hear music, and by concentrating could recognize it as "True Love Ways," my favorite song of the year. That realization energized me. I had to get up there and try to get a dance before it was over. I rushed across in front of a cream and robin-egg-blue DeSota turning from Lloyd Street and scaled the stairs two at a time.

I flashed my previously stamped backhand at the chaperone sitting just inside the upstairs door and started squinting into the dimly lit basketball court for someone to dance with. Of course that didn't make sense. Those on the floor were already dancing and, despite what they do in movies and TV shows, no one (least ways me) ever asks to break in on someone else's dance. So I rushed along the perimeter where the available partners sat on the bleachers or stood next to them, seeking someone—anyone, at this midpoint in the song—who might not reject me as most, I didn't doubt, would.

Betty, I thought. Is Betty here? Betty was one of the few friends who didn't assume that an invitation to dance was a marriage proposal or even to date, and if she wasn't already busy she usually said yes. And besides, she was one of the prettiest girls there, even if her attitude could be off-putting.

There she is! But...shoot...she's already dancing. I slowed my pace, figuring the quest might be over, but still scanning the girls. Three-quarters of the way round the floor I spotted Darlene talking to Marla. Next best choice, and with her friendlier attitude, maybe even better, I thought, approaching. "Dance?" I asked, extending my hand halfway. She started to turn and took my hand while still finishing her sentence to Marla.

Just as we finished our first two-step, Buddy Holly's fading lyric segued into something fast by Little Richard. Too fast for me, and Darlene knew, smiling and without having spoken a word, turned back to where Marla was waiting.

Webmaster Jon Kennedy

More daffynitions

The Washington Post's Style invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are some winners:

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you're running late.

Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is, like, sending off all these really bad vibes, right? and then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a totally serious bummer.

—Sent by Bill Dalrymple

Thought for the day

More than one pastor knows the meaning of economic strangulation. "We don't have to take that," the people protest. And they stop contributing to the church. Preach the truth, and the brook dries up!

—A. W. Tozer (adapted)
Sent by Jim Martin

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