They all wore wool skirts with a certain plaid. Albany, NY.
One day, a girl with braces stopped showing up. Probably her more attractive sister too, at least for a while. Her parents were outstanding members of the Community.
Turned out the Dad had been molesting the gals and Dawn took a shotgun exception to this eventually. She was sent to jail. She died of cancer a few years later; made me think that some diseases are self-inflicted, or can be.
The school never said anything about it. Doane-Stuart of Albany. They lost the buildings I attended to the nunnery, and took over some other private school grounds in Albany.
I thought it lame that nothing was ever said. Sister Cohen, all of them. Ms. Ganz who hassled me for not wearing socks. Nothing. Can't happen here.
[Actually, one day the library was selling off stuff. They sold a Zappa Mothers album for squat, it was amongst my first, I still have it. Can you imagine? Then again, I learned how to make nitrogen triiodide from the _Curve of binding energy_ which I found in this nice xian library.
And yes, I made it as a kid.
Poestenkill Question
Because this is such an old story, I cannot find any links. If there are minor faults in the narrative I provide, it can be blamed on my memory. As usual.
A young woman of highschool age was being routinely molested by her father or step-father, and it may have been established that he was raping a younger sister too. Same old story. Happens every day. Somewhere in this great land of ours, this is unfortunately probably happening right now; as you read, and as I type.
But in this story the abuse is ended. The abuser had pulled the car into the garage, but passed out behind the steering wheel sleeping off a binge. Dawn Cruickshank, the girl, got the family shotgun and went to the garage, where she confronted him and then blew him away.
I think she got twenty years in one of New York State's dismal prisons. She's probably been out of jail for some time now. She was a hero to many, a tragic figure to all.
I used to wake up at 6 o'clock in the morning when the local classical radio station began broadcasting, and I would read the Albany Times Union before riding off to highschool. Now with computers I can still read at least portions of my old newspaper-on-the-doorstep every morning again.
The Times-Union followed Dawn's trial closely.
A young woman of highschool age was being routinely molested by her father or step-father, and it may have been established that he was raping a younger sister too. Same old story. Happens every day. Somewhere in this great land of ours, this is unfortunately probably happening right now; as you read, and as I type.
But in this story the abuse is ended. The abuser had pulled the car into the garage, but passed out behind the steering wheel sleeping off a binge. Dawn Cruickshank, the girl, got the family shotgun and went to the garage, where she confronted him and then blew him away.
I think she got twenty years in one of New York State's dismal prisons. She's probably been out of jail for some time now. She was a hero to many, a tragic figure to all.
I used to wake up at 6 o'clock in the morning when the local classical radio station began broadcasting, and I would read the Albany Times Union before riding off to highschool. Now with computers I can still read at least portions of my old newspaper-on-the-doorstep every morning again.
The Times-Union followed Dawn's trial closely.
