Shirley was a sweet girl. She played the flute as I recall. In junior high, apparently, she had a crush on me. I didn't respond. For some reason I always felt bad about that, as if I owed her something. Well, Shirley, I remember you fondly, and I am sorry you are gone,so, hopefully, this note will serve as a bit of payback for dismissing you so casually.
I liked girls back in junior high, but Shirley was a little bit special to me for some reason. I thought she was cute, but it was more than that. I remember that lunch disagreed with me one day, and in history class the result was "noisy." Well, I was mortified as the entire classroom went deadly silent. Then Shirley, sitting next to me (poor thing), let out a beautiful belly laugh. That broke the tension, the entire room laughed, including Mrs. Davis, and we went back to history lessons. Her laugh was joyful, not sneering, and she never mentioned it again. To my knowledge, she did not talk about me behind my back, and she never whispered to her friends as they glanced my direction. She seemed to be kind, sweet, and warm on the inside. I never knew what she meant to me until I read of her death. The rush of sickness told me she was more than just a girl, she was what we all would like to be to others.
Jim Nunn
Shirley was a sweet girl. She played the flute as I recall. In junior high, apparently, she had a crush on me. I didn't respond. For some reason I always felt bad about that, as if I owed her something. Well, Shirley, I remember you fondly, and I am sorry you are gone,so, hopefully, this note will serve as a bit of payback for dismissing you so casually.
Vard Nelson
I liked girls back in junior high, but Shirley was a little bit special to me for some reason. I thought she was cute, but it was more than that. I remember that lunch disagreed with me one day, and in history class the result was "noisy." Well, I was mortified as the entire classroom went deadly silent. Then Shirley, sitting next to me (poor thing), let out a beautiful belly laugh. That broke the tension, the entire room laughed, including Mrs. Davis, and we went back to history lessons. Her laugh was joyful, not sneering, and she never mentioned it again. To my knowledge, she did not talk about me behind my back, and she never whispered to her friends as they glanced my direction. She seemed to be kind, sweet, and warm on the inside. I never knew what she meant to me until I read of her death. The rush of sickness told me she was more than just a girl, she was what we all would like to be to others.