RUTH
On the evening of the 8th-grade formal, I am in my bedroom, watching Cops on a tiny hand-me-down black & white TV and playing with a 3D vision board: a “bass guitar” I had constructed from an empty Kleenex box, a cardboard paper-towel tube, and four rubber bands. Mom raps on my door and tells me to get dressed up; she has a surprise for me.
