I’m trying to recall the specifics, and I think what I’m about to describe occurred during the winter of 1964-65. There was one stormy day in high school when we all stayed inside for P.E., and sat on the floor, and told or read stories to each other as if we were camping.

I can’t remember if it was spontaneous because of the weather or a planned event, but I think it was the latter. I think we had time to prepare. And I know that we combined grades for the entertainment, because I was a sophomore and Sally was in 11^th grade.

Sally was a neighbor a few doors to the west of our house. She was a shy quiet tall girl, and her family had a swimming pool. Most of us kids were welcome to play there and did, and I can see Sally in the pool with us, but we never got close to her or joked with her or found out what she was like.

The day of the P.E./Campfire Tales event we listened to a succession of fumbled jokes and half-assed readings before Sally stood up. Without referring to any notes or pages, she then recited Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart” to us, flawlessly as far as we could tell, and with feeling.

She gave a polished perfect delivery, and she pumped up her volume with the meter of the heartbeat. By the end we were all attentive and entranced. We were also amazed.

She really surprised us with her skill and passion. But I’ll admit I was also surprised at how surprised we were. What was most remarkable was how much we were moved. I would have expected it of elementary school students, and maybe even junior high kids, but we were cool. We were blasé. We weren’t supposed to be fazed. Nondescript Sally fazed us.