I remember Shindig.
I remember (a living) Karloff. I remember "The Monster Mash".
I remember Pendleton shirts and Fairchild mocassins.
I remember talk of 'cherry' cars and 'power sleds'.
I remember the way back to NHHS so well -- How well do you remember? -- I remember it so well that last summer when I went to Los Angeles, walking down memory lane, I found the quad as open and square as always, but infinitely smaller; all the teachers not only gone but having no institutional record of their having ever taught there; three times the surrounding traffic; and the public phone ripped from the cafeteria's exterior, a ghost mechanism cold above the blacktop's chewing gum scars.
I remember enough about high school even though I don't want to, since one day when I'm least expecting it, a physician, testing me, may ask for details.