1984

By now, most of you have probably noticed that my address has changed. I expect that any day my mailbox will be crammed full of letters, each demanding an explanation. "Eric, how could you have forsaken Cindy Court?" or "What will Melville do without you?" Before you fire off an angry missive to the mayor of Melville, allow me to explain.

Melville was a time capsule. It was a bit of the 1970s living in the modern age. Life was peaceful, almost idyllic, until the ugly reality of the 1980s set in. Everything started to change. First, Herbie's Shell station put in a mineral water machine next to the wiper blades. Then the "Day-Old Bakery" changed it's name to "The Vintage Bakery." Everything was changing so fast, I guess it was only a matter of time before my parents got swept away in the craze.

And so, it was with a great deal of sadness, but little surprise, that I opened my mail a few months ago to find that my parents had decided to go co-op with our house. Sure, I was to be given an insider's price on my bedroom, there was talk of putting new wallpaper in the kitchen, and hiring someone to mow the lawn, but it wouldn't be the same.

I was faced with a difficult decision. Should I remain in my childhood home or move on. Well, I decided to stay. Co-op living in Melville had to be better than most other situations, so I sent in my application to the board.

I was rejected. By my own parents. They said that I never made my bed, and I kept my room in a shambles. The list goes on, but there's no reason to air my dirty laundry in public. I had to move on. While cleaning out my stuff, I found a bunch of things people had sent me that I had never put in the magazine—the kind of stuff that fell behind the radiator. As my parting gift from Melville, N.Y., here they are:

Carole Yunick was married on October 25 to David Bibeau. According to the BostonGlobe, Carole is at Tufts, studying for an M.S. in anatomy and cellular biology. In addition, Linda Tuck was married to JohnIsaacson in September. They are currently residing in Lewiston, Maine, and their wedding announcement was located underneath a ceramic ashtray that I made in third grade. Also Barbara McElwaine was engaged to Ed Galligan. This card found its way under my bed (a very bad area of town), and may or may not have appeared in these pages previously.

Joe Walsh wrote me a postcard, in which he gives me permission to "make up whatever facts you care to, but remember, I trust you." Joe is always very trusting, a little too trusting I think. All we know is that his return address is Hanover, N.H. Well, I did a little checking, and it turns out that Joe is currently a cook for President (and fellow classmate) Freedman. "Joe consistently turns out some of the best food in the Upper Valley," says the amazed president, "Joe can do things with Spam that seem to defy Newton's Gravitational Law."

Well, I'm just about out of space for this month. I'm sorry that there weren't as many names as usual in the column, but I had to get this Melville thing off my chest. Thanks for giving me the chance.

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