At the school where I used to teach, we once had this dotty nurse who used to send notes to the principal saying "I'm sending this boy home because he has an elevation."

How much drivel a diary can preserve. Fifty years ago today as a high school sophomore, a few days after I had begun my diary, I forgot to wear a tie to school. Jackets and ties were required. De rigeur. Serious business. I didn't even notice when I left the house or when I arrived at school. A friend pointed it out to me in the nick of time ( Read more... )

Instead of counting sheep last night, I counted all my grade-school teachers as well as some junior high and high school teachers ( Read more... )

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You entered a weighty fog of cigarette smoke corralled within cement walls of a basement dungeon. It was often not possible to see across the room, so opaque was the murk. It was our smoking room at La Salle Academy. B2. You had to be at least a sophomore to smoke here. Freshmen were too young, according to the Christian Brothers. 13-year-old ( Read more... )

I've kept a full-fledged diary since 1958. In January of 1957, however, I had begun making daily entries in my little Memories of My Altar Boy Days. The space provided was barely a half inch per day. I noted on Sunday, February 3rd, 50 years ago today, for example, that I went to mass, communion, stayed home, watched television and studied. I ( Read more... )

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Buon appetito!
Mamma GD serving a classroom Italian meal for Italian IV in 1973. With Valpolicella wine, of course.
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This rotten kid got an M in deportment more than once:
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