Later that day, my daughter retrieved the 'trash' pile photos. Mom--you have to KEEP ALL of these. She laughed and laughed--especially at the photo of me wearing a purple wrap-around sweater with matching legwarmers and headband around my forehead. My personal groaning favorite was where my hair looked like a cross between a fluffy dandelion and beehive. It was the unfortunate result of a bad haircut from Astor Place in New York City--nicknamed Astor Disaster. The only cut they knew how to do was Puerto Rican Brooklyn babe. So Not attractive on the waspy art student girl.
But I digress... My daughter asks me who the people are in the photos. I realize that besides my BF from HS, I don't remember a single person's name. This is rather embarrassing. I consider the possibility that I have premature Alzheimers or that the drugs I did in my college years have killed off the brain cells responsible for memory. Someone recently said to me that as we get older, the 'file cabinets' in our brain become full and we can't ACCESS the information in a timely manner. I like this theory better than the Alzheimer or drug possibilities.
My daughter has the bright idea to 'look' up the people in my 1981 freshman high school yearbook. Just to give a bit of background--my HS had a smoking area. This particular yearbook features a picture of a female student kissing a male teacher (who has a big smile on his face) accompanied with a quote by Emerson--The secret of education lies in respecting the pupil. I so did not make that up.
My daughter proceeds to read OUT LOUD all the inscriptions written in my yearbook. I'm sure I haven't looked at this since senior year, so have forgotten how OBSCENE and SEXUALLY EXPLICIT most of the comments were.
Have a nice summer & hope you get layed. love, matt
dear collete, it's been knowing you over the years and having you in homeroom. have a good summer gettin fucked. craig
cousin colette from the country. where in the hell were you this year. i hardly even saw you. you better not get pregnant this summer. i want your dick. love brian
have a really nice summer. don't get drunk but get layed a lot, but not to much so you can walk to school. love jeff
I immediately notice that spelling seems to be a major challenge for most of the boys. They can't be bothered to spell my name correctly, much less the word 'layed'. On the bright side, there were also comments from guys thanking me for tutoring them in math or helping them pass spanish. My daughter wants to know why the majority of the comments are from boys. I can't answer that. She clearly thinks that I was a 'HO, but a kindly 'HO who tutored those less fortunate in their academics. At least she recognizes my altruistic side.