This is a love story, which begins, as these things so often do, with a (paraphrased) line from The Fantasticks: There is this boy. He’s a man now, but when I knew him, when I loved him, he was a boy. We were teenagers, in the late 1980s, in a suburban town in Westchester, NY. He was good-natured and darkly mischievous, politically active in a … Continue reading Juliet at 41