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High School Classmates

September 3, 2014
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN GUILTY OF LOOKING AT OTHERS YOUR OWN AGE AND THINKING, SURELY I CAN’T LOOK THAT OLD.
WELL . . .YOU’LL LOVE THIS ONE.
MY NAME IS ALICE, AND I WAS SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH A NEW DENTIST.
I NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA ON THE WALL, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME. SUDDENLY, I REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY WITH THE SAME NAME HAD BEEN IN MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME 30-ODD YEARS AGO.
COULD HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON, WAY BACK THEN?
UPON SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCH THOUGHT.
THIS BALDING, GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS WAY TOO OLD TO HAVE BEEN MY CLASSMATE.
AFTER HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDED MORGAN PARK HIGH SCHOOL.
‘YES. YES, I DID. I’M A MUSTANG,’ HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.
WHEN DID YOU GRADUATE?’ I ASKED.
HE ANSWERED, ‘IN 1975. WHY DO YOU ASK?’
YOU WERE IN MY CLASS!’, I EXCLAIMED.
HE LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY.
THEN, THAT UGLY, OLD, BALD, WRINKLED FACED, FAT-ASSED, GRAY-HAIRED, DECREPIT, SON-OF-A-BITCH
ASKED,

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‘WHAT DID YOU TEACH?
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