soapboxdiner

Good times

Looking for something new to read tonight, I came across a box that has sat on the bedroom floor since the move. Gingerly, I opened the box and found a trove of memorabilia from junior high. Man, I love these random re-discoveries. So I spent some time thumbing through my ninth grade year book.

Looking back, junior high was so good. Who would have ever thought that? Mr. Bonet the Science Guy wrote in my year book and called me talented. Ahhh. And to think the only memory carried over from his class was of the experiment involving melting rest-stop air fresheners in some heretofore unknown chemical compounds. To this day, I cannot breath in a rest room for fear my nose hairs will all dissolve. Mr. Bonet gave me that. Not too many people can say they have touched lives in that way, you know? How could I have forgotten him?

All through junior and senior high, I was a peer tutor. But ninth grade was special. I tutored Miguel whose cousin, Xavier, graduated with my sister 1500 miles away two years before. This we discovered when I mentioned my undying love for an "older man" named Xavier in Montana. Which was truly fortunate, as I never got to live down my exposed secret ever, ever again.

Then there was Phan. He was from Laos and had the best sense of humor. Couldn't concentrate on books to save his life, but he would laugh everyday when I would lean across the table to show him this or that whatever from his textbook. My freshly developing breasts would plop themselves quite happily onto the desk and just sit there for him to cheese at. Apparently, they were resting. And boy, being 13 and having your breasts made a conversation piece... good times, man.

Seeing all those faces, the dweebs, dorks, cool cats, dope-heads and jocks, funny how the young brain works. Funny that these people who I haven't seen in 16 years are still remembered; personalities, their station in my 13-year-old world, how we met and how we interacted -- all remembered. Chicken-scratched promises to "Stay fresh" and "have a rad summer" and "Thanks for being my tutter, you helped allot."

And God. What was I thinking wearing green and blue eyeliner on (then) my very deep olive complexion and what was that hair all about? A large spiral-permed helmet held in place with massive quantities of several Aqua Net products. Thank God the 80s are over.

No, nothing profound about the jaunt down memory lane. Just something that made me smile.

Oh, and darling, congratulations on getting to keep your uterus. I'm still dancing over your news.

9:28 pm - 10.29.02
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