“Knock knock!” She sang out. Sir William, the Green Knight, emerged from the tent wearing only sweatpants, kneepads and high black boots; his thic... dark hair hung down to just above his broad shoulders and was tousled from its long confinement in his helmet. Rivulets of sweat ran down his lean muscular chest to his firm abdomen, and his strong arms glistened from the day’s exertion. He fixed me for a moment with his beautiful hazel eyes as he dabbed the grime and dust from his face with a. It read, “Antoinette Dellasandro, 85, widow of the late Mario Dellasandro, survived by a daughter, Dierdre.” It brought me back to when I was a teenager. It was the spring of ’66 and I was halfway through my senior year of high school when it finally happened. I was neither a great student nor a great athlete. No one applying to Harvard had to worry about me taking their place in the class of 1970, and the state cross country record books were in no danger of being re-written by me. My parents. More

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