“Worcester is the place where one starts out in life with nothing and usually ends up with less. It is not unusual for someone who grew up there to introduce themselves by stating, ‘I’m from Worcester, Mass. Kiss my ass.”
So begins Aaron Richard Golub’s recently published memoir “Ruckus,” about growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, with Worcester a prominent part of the landscape.
It is also a place, as Golub writes, where “unforgettable experiences are unavoidable.”