The Manipulation Blues

September, 1984

I see Sally only every so often. She lives seven hours away, in the mountains of Pennsylvania. But I am heartbroken at what's happened to her.Last year, when she was ten, Sally squeaked. She hung around my neck and squeaked, "Oh, Cynthia, I love you so" or she dribbled a softball out into left field and squeaked, "A triple! I can do it" or she decided to make a cake, put in way too much baking powder and squeaked, "Ooo, isn't that pretty!" as the batter cascaded thr...