Amid all the fussing over the decline of good clean danger in the lives of boys, I would like to raise a more serious concern: the looming threats to teenage rebellion.

Students at a Maryland high school were recently shocked to open their yearbooks and find documentation, snagged from Facebook, of their red-plastic-cup frivolities out in the woods. My high school indiscretions went unrecorded, and rightly so. The only evidence that might remain is on the walls of my friend Matt’s garage, where we recorded our names and buzzed thoughts in Sharpie markers.

I might have been more careful had I known my antics, vanilla as they were, could have been captured forever and re-appropriated by lazy high school yearbook assemblers. I might have decided not to streak though a Southeast Portland neighborhood, or drink a 40 of Mickey’s in the Lincoln High School boys locker room. What a pity that would have been.

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