By Binnie Klein
A provocative story of an not going contender and her midlife transformation via boxing.
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Additional resources for Blows to the Head: How Boxing Changed My Mind
Fit World, however, was a seriously no-frills operation and offered no such welcome. This was where I met John, at his last job before he opened his own club. I had dressed for a possible workout in case John wanted to “check me out” right away, to see if I had any potential—loosefitting drawstring pants, running shoes, and a tank top, nothing special. The key element was my trusty sports bra made like a suspension bridge that promised to keep my large chest from bouncing and jiggling. ” Up close now, I could see that the “girl” on the phone had penciled-in slashes for eyebrows, was considerably older than I had imagined, and looked like a Las Vegas showgirl stricken with melancholia.
For mysterious reasons, the Spalding sporting goods corporation took the ball off the market in the late 1970s, but I’ve heard it’s being reissued. I’d like to feel one in the palm of my hand again; it holds the memories of games like A—My Name is Alice that involved standing in place, reciting a long alliterative poem while crossing one leg over and under the bounce of the ball in sync with all the letters of the alphabet—a game for a poet, a game for a girl standing still. That was my sport. ” Mr.
You were only twenty-eight years old. My mother was with you, and she was eight, along with her older sister, my Aunt Esther. At Ellis Island, an abandoned ammunitions dump, you followed the others, carrying bedrolls, blankets, baskets, babies. Many days 12,000 people were processed. You faced an assembly line of immigration officials, endured a brusque and humiliating physical exam. Your mother-in-law, wearing a sign marked “senility,” was somehow let in, although she failed the intelligence test.