chapter IV
I think at that age, most of our bones are collapsible. I once slid through the back slats of a wooden school chair somewhat like the ones in the picture—a chair sized for 5- and 6-year-olds. I was kneeling, and then—don’t ask me how, but I slipped and slid through it. Partially slid. My head got stuck between the slats. They had to find the school janitor to saw me out. For years, that little wooden chair with the one missing slat went by my name. I never knew whether to be embarrassed or proud. Mostly, I was proud.
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