When my internet pal Sal was in eighth grade she was the feature editor for her school newspaper, and was invited to go to a special conference in New York for school newspaper editors. David Halberstam was the guest speaker.
She writes how inspiring his speech was, and how it left her with the feeling that there were many more possibilities in life than she'd ever imagined.
When I was in eighth grade, Richard Nixon came to the Memorial Auditorium to speak. Our class rode over in a bus, eager to be going anywhere other than algebra. As we were in line, riding up the escalator in the auditorium, I suddenly spotted Sexton (wow–what a name!) my boyfriend from summer camp, on the floor below. Dressed in his McCallie boys' school uniform, he was ambling among a navy blue cloud of other boys. I shouted out his name and waved madly.
My English teacher collared me at the top of the escalator and shook me hard. "You know better than that! Behave yourself!"
A few years later I was elected editor of our high school literary magazine The Driftwood. My boyfriend wrote a poem for it. I published it. If you read it vertically instead of horizontally, the first letter of each line spelled "F*CK YOU." One day Steve C. felt compelled to point this out to my English teacher, Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson called me at home on the phone and told me how disappointed she was in me.
I visited my Mom two weeks ago and took her check book and credit card with me when I left. I told her I was taking them in order to protect her, and she agreed that it was a good idea. I made arrangements with the staff at the Terrace to pay for whatever she might need when they went on an outing, and to charge it to her monthly bill. Today Aggles called and said that Mom was very upset that I took her card; and that she even wondered briefly if I took it so I could use it. Instantly I felt guilty, even though I am a different person today than I was in high school. Really I am. I am, really.
Yesterday I found a gift card from Crate & Barrel on the beach. When I got home, I checked the number online and discovered that it had fifty dollars on it. What would you do? Would you try to figure out who lost it, or would you order Funky Monkey straightaway?
