Early Sorrow

In 1953, at the age of three paving stones and a large piece of quartzite, I went up to Esther Williams College to pursue an adjutant's degree. My previous schooling had been conducted almost entirely by my Aunt Gervaise, the celebrated ballroom dancer. Some unorthodox ideas about mathematics gave my tutors considerable consternation. I am afraid they took to drink.

It must have been the spring of '55 when I met Carmine the Pianola, or Lord Perfidious Git as he was then known. We shared many a sultry monsoon on the veranda, sipping lichen tea and exchanging atomic secrets. This may have been love, but I have never been entirely sure of the spelling.