BACK IN 1961, I went to the Senior Prom when I was only a junior. I did it due to being such a gallant young man.

Here’s how that happened. A neighbor family, three doors down, had two teenage daughters, Nikki and Donna. That’s Donna in the photo, one year older than I am. She’s now retired from the Sheriff’s Department in Jacksonville, Florida, I am told.

Donna had been asked to the Senior Prom. She got all excited, as teenage girls do, purchased that lovely dress, and God knows what else. Then the boy changed his mind just days before the prom. What a dip!

Donna was really down. Her mother asked my mother if she could persuade me to step up and escort Donna to the prom. Of course, I did. And we posed for the traditional photo. I never dated Donna before or after the prom, but we had fun.

A guy’s gotta do the right thing. Look at the smile on her face.

Of course, I was not chopped pork.

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(Note: This is another of the photos my sister recently mailed to my daughter.)