I took this shot a few snows ago and just got around to pulling it into Photoshop. Neither the Darth headgear look or the Vulcan hand greeting were intended, only observed, in apparent anticipated tribute to Leonard Nimoy who has gone on to the Final Frontier.
I'm not sure the world is a better place for having shared these moss-covered and faded reflections, but there you go. You're done. No more. Until the next wave of remembery.Seventh Grade: Ms Griffith• My memory is that we made this woman ill. I remember subs during this year, and we did not treat them well in ways i have mercifully mostly forgotten—except for putting a large assortment of very wet spitballs from the mouths of both boys and girls into the upturned hat of one male sub. Who never came back. Scurvy elephants were working to become scurvy delinquents. … Continue Reading ››
This was perhaps my most traumatic year of grade school. And my mother corrects me: the Scent of Death was Tabu. On the plus side, it would be the beginning of the decade of coming of age music. But that is another subject for another time.Sixth Grade: Mrs. Badeau• I wrote the teacher’s name just now and hair on my arms stood up. Not a good sign. I should have had counseling during and for years after sixth grade.• The Red Book was the bane of my existence. I could not keep up with my homework (it was somewhere … Continue Reading ››
This would have been 1958-9. Other installments in the series (hang with me, we're more than half way now) are linked at the end of this chapter.Four Grade: Ms Long• I have copious memories of Ms. Long. I’m sure we all do. She was much feared. I loved her. From her I learned phonics, vocabulary, and sarcasm.• She told the story of an irate mother who demanded an appointment with her to discuss what had been said about the woman’s son. She claimed that he had been called a “scurvy elephant.” To which, Ms Long, with her glasses down … Continue Reading ››
Second Grade: Ms Barnes 1955-6• The first thing I always remember about Ms Barnes was that she came to my house, and I was not in trouble. It was my seventh birthday party. You don’t forget stuff like that.• Was this the year we were introduced to “magic markers”? I remember the squeak; and the smell. I think I got high, which was risky. Get the tip too close and you're marked like Rudolph for a week.• This was the year I got a flattop haircut and the year before I grew into my front teeth. I remember the smell … Continue Reading ››