Yesterday, I introduced the concept of the "Mistop," or any girl whom I could have become romantically involved with had I made more of an effort or acted more quickly, which would make it a "missed opportunity." In rapid succession, we now go to #2. Her name was Deaz. (Note that it will be a little bit before I get around to #3.)
Deaz was a year younger than me. She had medium-length black hair and probably weighed about 30 pounds more than me. At the time, I thought she was Hispanic, but her last name was Anglo and she had no accent. A few years ago, I started wondering if she was actually Filipino. The only thing that counters this is that I wasn't aware of any Filipinos who lived in Artesia, except for this one woman who was a friend of my Mom's sometime after I had left home.
Deaz was in Choir (as was #1, Niz). As I mentioned before, the group got to go to the Six Flags over Texas Music Festival in the spring of 1982. We spent a couple of days at the amusement park. The final day I somehow wound up spending the day with Deaz and this other girl, Marid. Marid was new to the school and her presence created a stir because she was half-Black and half-Mexican, but she was cool to hang around with.
One thing about Marid was that she could not go on the scarier rides. This meant that Deaz and I went on a lot of them together. One of the rides looks like a ferris wheel, but goes really fast and the individual cars turn upside-down. I sat behind Deaz. The centrifugal force pressed the full weight of her body against mine for about three minutes. I hated to admit it, but I was actually enjoying it. I think she enjoyed it as well, because we went on the ride two more times.
So, yeah, I was definitely picking up the vibe that she liked me. But it put me in a quandry. I debated with myself as to whether I should see if she wanted to go out with me. On the one hand, I did have a lot of fun during the time I spent with her at the park. We got along very well. On the other hand, she wasn't that smart, and I sort of had a problem with her weight. (However, I should point out that if she was a good student, her weight would not have been an issue.)
In the end, I'm glad I didn't hook up with Deaz. It would have made it a lot harder to go to college if I was emotionally involved with her. I would have come home every weekend to spend with her. I would have been anxious about the possiblity that she was cheating on me. It would have made me a nervous wreck and my grades in college wound being bad enough without having a girlfriend in Artesia to worry about.
I know that the next year, Deaz won an award at the Choir's year-end banquet. She was named "Most Improved," which was the same award I got my sophomore year. About a year after that, I ran into her at the mall in Roswell. She had a kid. I excitedly told her hi. She said hi back, but not with as much enthusiasm. That would be the last time I would ever see her.
Because her first and last names are so common, I have been unable to locate her on the Internet. I'm left with so much on this blog that has no actual closure.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Getting accepted into college
Having watched a lot of movies and television during my youth, I had gotten the idea that getting accepted into college was a major accomplishment. Even if you had really good grades, it was no guarantee that the colleges you applied would want you there. I found out how wrong my perception was.
Every college I applied for accepted me. I even got accepted by a college I didn't even apply to, and that was in my junior year. The reason for this is that I had applied for state schools. I didn't realize they had such low standards for admission. (I'd heard later that the college I went to, Eastern New Mexico University, would accept anyone who just TOOK the ACT or SAT.) Looking back, I wish I had attempted to apply for Ivy League schools. I know I wouldn't have gotten in, but it would have been fun to see their rejection letters.
I got accepted into ENMU, New Mexico State University, West Texas State University and Ball State University in Muncie, IN. (The other college that accepted me without applying was University of Albuquerque.) I came very close to going to Ball State, mainly because I knew that there would be no one from Artesia going there. WTSU was so certain that I was attending there that they sent me a student ID card and had reserved a dorm room for me. (I hope no one got turned away at the dorms because I didn't show up.) I really didn't want to go there because too many other people from Artesia were accepted there.
In the end, I picked ENMU because I wanted a career in broadcasting and they had excellent facilities. At the very least, I thought I had made that choice on my own. (In Monday's post, I'll explain why that may not be true.) I had spent a lot of time on the campus and it was where my parents had gone to college. It was someplace I was very familiar. Also, only students I tolerated from Artesia would be attending.
Toward the beginning of this blog, I wondered about the outcomes of choices like this and what I would have done differently if I had the chance to do it over. I probably would. I likely would go to Ball State with this set of choices. However, if I could go further back, I would have applied at UCLA and USC, because they would have been more apt to have a more complete communications department and I would have been closer to the entertainment industry.
Unfortunately, the only thing that wouldn't be different is me. All the torment I endured is largely due to the type of person I am. That wouldn't have changed, no matter where I went to school. I would probably still struggling to find my path and would keep changing direction. However, I would still want to experience something different.
Monday, I'll review the paths that were closed to me.
Every college I applied for accepted me. I even got accepted by a college I didn't even apply to, and that was in my junior year. The reason for this is that I had applied for state schools. I didn't realize they had such low standards for admission. (I'd heard later that the college I went to, Eastern New Mexico University, would accept anyone who just TOOK the ACT or SAT.) Looking back, I wish I had attempted to apply for Ivy League schools. I know I wouldn't have gotten in, but it would have been fun to see their rejection letters.
I got accepted into ENMU, New Mexico State University, West Texas State University and Ball State University in Muncie, IN. (The other college that accepted me without applying was University of Albuquerque.) I came very close to going to Ball State, mainly because I knew that there would be no one from Artesia going there. WTSU was so certain that I was attending there that they sent me a student ID card and had reserved a dorm room for me. (I hope no one got turned away at the dorms because I didn't show up.) I really didn't want to go there because too many other people from Artesia were accepted there.
In the end, I picked ENMU because I wanted a career in broadcasting and they had excellent facilities. At the very least, I thought I had made that choice on my own. (In Monday's post, I'll explain why that may not be true.) I had spent a lot of time on the campus and it was where my parents had gone to college. It was someplace I was very familiar. Also, only students I tolerated from Artesia would be attending.
Toward the beginning of this blog, I wondered about the outcomes of choices like this and what I would have done differently if I had the chance to do it over. I probably would. I likely would go to Ball State with this set of choices. However, if I could go further back, I would have applied at UCLA and USC, because they would have been more apt to have a more complete communications department and I would have been closer to the entertainment industry.
Unfortunately, the only thing that wouldn't be different is me. All the torment I endured is largely due to the type of person I am. That wouldn't have changed, no matter where I went to school. I would probably still struggling to find my path and would keep changing direction. However, I would still want to experience something different.
Monday, I'll review the paths that were closed to me.
Mistop #1: Niz
With this post, I introduce the concept of the "Mistop," as in I missed an opportunity to have a girlfriend. In order for this condition to exist, the girl in question had to appear to have liked me and I needed to have had nothing else going on that would have prevented me from pursuing a relationship (as in, maybe I was involved with someone else at the time).
I had made reference to Niz in a previous post, in which I complained about not having a girlfriend my senior year. I had already written my blog entry for #2 under the assumption that she was #1. But I recalled that Niz would have actually been #1. At first, I wasn't going to write about her and just start with #2. This is because I'm trying to write things in chronological order and trying not to have to backtrack. However, I remembered that there was an interesting development that explains why I didn't really try to pursue Niz any further.
Niz was two years younger than me. I met her toward the end of my junior year when we were in the Artesia Arts Council's community theatre production of "Annie Get Your Gun." She played one of Annie Oakley's siblings. She was a year older than my brother, so she was very familiar with him and his antics.
Niz was also a cheerleader at Park Junior High School, although she did not continue this when she started high school. She had a lot of spunk and spark and the whitest, straightest teeth I have ever seen.
We hung out a lot during the rehearsals and talked. I didn't think about the possibility of dating her, because she appeared to be a little too "wowie" for me, so it looked like we were going to be friends. However, I brought my camera to one of the rehearsals. She asked me if I wanted to take photos of her in her cheerleading uniform. This caused my brain to lock up. What did this mean? Was she was trying to seduce me? I stopped seeing her as a friend and started looking at her as a potential girlfriend.
I did not take her up on her offer to take photos. It just seemed wrong to do that. I figured I'd find the right opportunity to ask her out on a real date, something we could do after the production ended, but there was an obstacle that I did not expect. My friend Led also started talking to her more frequently backstage. It was obvious that we both liked her. However, Led was not one to wait for a date. Backstage during one of the performances, he was alone with her and quickly stole a kiss. He said her reaction was not very good, and it looked like he wasn't going to get any further with her.
I kind of got mad at him because, in my mind, this had messed up my chances with her. She knew that he and I were good friends and I was afraid that if she didn't like him that way, then she probably didn't like me that way, either. Any attempt I made to get closer to her would probably have resulted in a similar reaction.
So I thought I would just have to wait until we started school after the summer to see if we might be able to make a connection. I was going to have to wait anyway, because she spent the summer touring and performing with the Young Americans, a slightly artier version of Up with People.
School started and she just didn't show the same type of interest in me. I wasn't surprised. She likely met far more interesting people than me when she was with the Young Americans and I didn't carry the same level of thrill. As I mentioned before, she wound up dating one of the Alpha males.
I ran into her from time to time during the periods I was home from college. We were just friends, that's all.
I was able to find her on Facebook. She had gotten married and had a couple of kids. She looks very much like she did in high school, with the same white, shiny teeth. Apparently, she went to school in Omaha, NE and studied Finance. She also got her jurisdoctorate degree. Wow! I'm impressed. Maybe it's better that we didn't start something up. I would have dragged her down to my level of being a loser.
That just was not her destiny.
I had made reference to Niz in a previous post, in which I complained about not having a girlfriend my senior year. I had already written my blog entry for #2 under the assumption that she was #1. But I recalled that Niz would have actually been #1. At first, I wasn't going to write about her and just start with #2. This is because I'm trying to write things in chronological order and trying not to have to backtrack. However, I remembered that there was an interesting development that explains why I didn't really try to pursue Niz any further.
Niz was two years younger than me. I met her toward the end of my junior year when we were in the Artesia Arts Council's community theatre production of "Annie Get Your Gun." She played one of Annie Oakley's siblings. She was a year older than my brother, so she was very familiar with him and his antics.
Niz was also a cheerleader at Park Junior High School, although she did not continue this when she started high school. She had a lot of spunk and spark and the whitest, straightest teeth I have ever seen.
We hung out a lot during the rehearsals and talked. I didn't think about the possibility of dating her, because she appeared to be a little too "wowie" for me, so it looked like we were going to be friends. However, I brought my camera to one of the rehearsals. She asked me if I wanted to take photos of her in her cheerleading uniform. This caused my brain to lock up. What did this mean? Was she was trying to seduce me? I stopped seeing her as a friend and started looking at her as a potential girlfriend.
I did not take her up on her offer to take photos. It just seemed wrong to do that. I figured I'd find the right opportunity to ask her out on a real date, something we could do after the production ended, but there was an obstacle that I did not expect. My friend Led also started talking to her more frequently backstage. It was obvious that we both liked her. However, Led was not one to wait for a date. Backstage during one of the performances, he was alone with her and quickly stole a kiss. He said her reaction was not very good, and it looked like he wasn't going to get any further with her.
I kind of got mad at him because, in my mind, this had messed up my chances with her. She knew that he and I were good friends and I was afraid that if she didn't like him that way, then she probably didn't like me that way, either. Any attempt I made to get closer to her would probably have resulted in a similar reaction.
So I thought I would just have to wait until we started school after the summer to see if we might be able to make a connection. I was going to have to wait anyway, because she spent the summer touring and performing with the Young Americans, a slightly artier version of Up with People.
School started and she just didn't show the same type of interest in me. I wasn't surprised. She likely met far more interesting people than me when she was with the Young Americans and I didn't carry the same level of thrill. As I mentioned before, she wound up dating one of the Alpha males.
I ran into her from time to time during the periods I was home from college. We were just friends, that's all.
I was able to find her on Facebook. She had gotten married and had a couple of kids. She looks very much like she did in high school, with the same white, shiny teeth. Apparently, she went to school in Omaha, NE and studied Finance. She also got her jurisdoctorate degree. Wow! I'm impressed. Maybe it's better that we didn't start something up. I would have dragged her down to my level of being a loser.
That just was not her destiny.
One last shot at elected office
Since I was not re-elected to the Student Council for my senior year, I felt a void in my life. (Actually, that void came from working too much, but I didn't know that at the time.) I thought that I could make up for it and get out of my early senior funk by becoming the Class President.
I knew my chances were very slight of me winning, but I figured I only had to worry about this one other person running for the office. I turned out to be wrong. A third person ran for President. This was someone who had never become involved in anything in high school, except for maybe Future Farmers of America.
When the election came, we each got to get up in front of the senior class and give a speech. Mine was pretty decent. I had plenty of jokes and the students seemed to like it. However, I still knew there was no way I was going to get elected. When I thought it was just going to be two of us running, I could always say I came in second place. But this third guy was following on the heels of the last senior class President, who was a "cowboy" and had the support of his "cowboy" friends.
The third guy actually won. I was expecing to lose, but I did not expect him to win. That was a real letdown. My mother told me that I and the other candidate probably split the vote and allowed the third guy to come out on top. This was what had happened the previous year. She said that guy who got elected just made a complete mockery of the position and she hoped that wasn't going to happen again with this one.
The only time I got a little jealous of not winning the Presidency was when the Space Shuttle had to make an emergency landing at Holloman Air Force Base in Alamogordo in 1982. All the senior class presidents in the area got to go there to watch it land. I wish I could have gone. (However, my Main Place boss probably would have made me stay and work that day.)
My Mom was afraid of what the class president would do during the senior banquet because of the fiasco the previous year. However, she said he did really well with his address and did not cause the embarassment that his predecessor did.
In the end, I was glad I didn't win because I found out later that the traditional role of the senior class President is to organize the reunions. I know I never would have wanted to do that. It turns out he didn't do that, either. It was other classmates who wound up putting it all together. This was even though he spent his life after high school living in Artesia.
But it still would have been nice to have won something in high school.
I knew my chances were very slight of me winning, but I figured I only had to worry about this one other person running for the office. I turned out to be wrong. A third person ran for President. This was someone who had never become involved in anything in high school, except for maybe Future Farmers of America.
When the election came, we each got to get up in front of the senior class and give a speech. Mine was pretty decent. I had plenty of jokes and the students seemed to like it. However, I still knew there was no way I was going to get elected. When I thought it was just going to be two of us running, I could always say I came in second place. But this third guy was following on the heels of the last senior class President, who was a "cowboy" and had the support of his "cowboy" friends.
The third guy actually won. I was expecing to lose, but I did not expect him to win. That was a real letdown. My mother told me that I and the other candidate probably split the vote and allowed the third guy to come out on top. This was what had happened the previous year. She said that guy who got elected just made a complete mockery of the position and she hoped that wasn't going to happen again with this one.
The only time I got a little jealous of not winning the Presidency was when the Space Shuttle had to make an emergency landing at Holloman Air Force Base in Alamogordo in 1982. All the senior class presidents in the area got to go there to watch it land. I wish I could have gone. (However, my Main Place boss probably would have made me stay and work that day.)
My Mom was afraid of what the class president would do during the senior banquet because of the fiasco the previous year. However, she said he did really well with his address and did not cause the embarassment that his predecessor did.
In the end, I was glad I didn't win because I found out later that the traditional role of the senior class President is to organize the reunions. I know I never would have wanted to do that. It turns out he didn't do that, either. It was other classmates who wound up putting it all together. This was even though he spent his life after high school living in Artesia.
But it still would have been nice to have won something in high school.
Friday, July 25, 2014
The price of gas is too high
Sometimes, those in charge of signs aren't aware of the damage they are causing themselves.
The thing is, when you get to the pump, you'll find you get a 90% discount if you pay cash.
The thing is, when you get to the pump, you'll find you get a 90% discount if you pay cash.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Divorce Scare and Eventual Reality
My brother Loyd and I were somewhat used to my parents' frequent vocal battles over the past few years. We often wondered if they felt anything for each other anymore. We almost never saw them be affectionate or even enjoy each other's company. The concept that they would divorce was always in the back of our minds, but we never really wanted it to come to that.
The main fear was that we would have to choose between our parents. This would have been a tough decision. On one hand, I was emotionally closer to my Mom, but she could easily get upset and start doling out restrictive punishments for almost no reason. On the other hand, Dad stopped physically punishing me after I finished fifth grade, but I always felt like he was let down that I was not on any path to become the man that he was.
One Sunday morning, Mom and Dad got into a really intense argument. I can't remember what it was about, but Loyd and I went upstairs to our rooms so that they could hash it out. This was a normal procedure. After a couple of minutes, they stopped yelling at each other and it got really quiet. A few minutes later, Loyd came into my room. He said he heard Mom and Dad talking about getting lawyers. I didn't know what to think.
Mom then took us to church. She said Dad had some work to do at the apartments and wasn't going to be coming. We went to church and came back home and ate. Afterward, Mom said she had some errands to run, so she left the house. I don't remember what Loyd and I did that afternoon. We probably watched TV or something. Mom and Dad later returned home separately. Aside from the discussion Loyd had overheard, we couldn't tell that anything was wrong.
Several years later after I had graduated from college and moved to Denver, Dad left Mom and filed for a divorce. Mom called me up one day and told me that they had separated. She told me not to worry, that this was only a temporary situation. She expected Dad to come back to her. I told her that, of course, I was going to worry.
A couple of weeks later, Dad came to visit me. He was in town to see about going into a business venture with Mom's brother Ord, who also lived in Denver. When he came to the house, he asked me if I knew that he had left Mom. I told him that she told me, but she expected things to go back to normal. He told me that was not going to happen.
He said that he had tried to leave once before. He said he didn't think I would remember, but one Sunday, after she had taken Loyd and me to church, he got in the camper and parked it at the apartments. He was intending to live there while the divorce went through. He said that Mom came and found him after church and promished things would get better if he came back. However, things never really got better after that and he decided to leave her for good this time.
I didn't tell him that I remembered the day in question nor about the divorce conversation Loyd had overheard. It really didn't matter.
Even though we were adults and had moved out of the house when they divorced, it still had a significant impact on us. However, that will be the subject of another post when I get around to that phase of my life. Maybe I'll get around to it sometime next year. (Ugh, I was not expecting to take a full year leading to my graduation from high school.)
The main fear was that we would have to choose between our parents. This would have been a tough decision. On one hand, I was emotionally closer to my Mom, but she could easily get upset and start doling out restrictive punishments for almost no reason. On the other hand, Dad stopped physically punishing me after I finished fifth grade, but I always felt like he was let down that I was not on any path to become the man that he was.
One Sunday morning, Mom and Dad got into a really intense argument. I can't remember what it was about, but Loyd and I went upstairs to our rooms so that they could hash it out. This was a normal procedure. After a couple of minutes, they stopped yelling at each other and it got really quiet. A few minutes later, Loyd came into my room. He said he heard Mom and Dad talking about getting lawyers. I didn't know what to think.
Mom then took us to church. She said Dad had some work to do at the apartments and wasn't going to be coming. We went to church and came back home and ate. Afterward, Mom said she had some errands to run, so she left the house. I don't remember what Loyd and I did that afternoon. We probably watched TV or something. Mom and Dad later returned home separately. Aside from the discussion Loyd had overheard, we couldn't tell that anything was wrong.
Several years later after I had graduated from college and moved to Denver, Dad left Mom and filed for a divorce. Mom called me up one day and told me that they had separated. She told me not to worry, that this was only a temporary situation. She expected Dad to come back to her. I told her that, of course, I was going to worry.
A couple of weeks later, Dad came to visit me. He was in town to see about going into a business venture with Mom's brother Ord, who also lived in Denver. When he came to the house, he asked me if I knew that he had left Mom. I told him that she told me, but she expected things to go back to normal. He told me that was not going to happen.
He said that he had tried to leave once before. He said he didn't think I would remember, but one Sunday, after she had taken Loyd and me to church, he got in the camper and parked it at the apartments. He was intending to live there while the divorce went through. He said that Mom came and found him after church and promished things would get better if he came back. However, things never really got better after that and he decided to leave her for good this time.
I didn't tell him that I remembered the day in question nor about the divorce conversation Loyd had overheard. It really didn't matter.
Even though we were adults and had moved out of the house when they divorced, it still had a significant impact on us. However, that will be the subject of another post when I get around to that phase of my life. Maybe I'll get around to it sometime next year. (Ugh, I was not expecting to take a full year leading to my graduation from high school.)
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Yearbook superlatives
One of the things I never accomplished in high school was being listed among the superlatives in the yearbooks. You know, "Most Handsome," "Class Clown," "Most Likely to Succeed," etc. The superlatives were determined by holding nominations in the homerooms one month and then having elections the next month.
The strangest category was "Most Talented." To me, talented meant being good in artistic endeavors, like singing, playing an instrument, acting, drawing or painting. However, during my sophomore year, I was shocked at the boy my homeroom nominated. I thought, "This guy doesn't sing or play an instrument. What's his talent?" I found out later that he was a really good basketball player. I didn't really consider that talent, but everyone else did. Interestingly, the girl my homeroom nominated was a singer (although she didn't join choir until senior year).
When we got the election slips, I saw that all the boys nominated for "Most Talented" were athletes. And it was almost the same for the girls, except for the one girl that my homeroom nominated. There was no one else from choir or band on the list. I looked back at some older yearbooks, and I noticed that one year, they separated the "Most Talented" into athletic and artistic categories. I don't know why they only did that the one time. It should have carried forward.
The two we nominated went on to win sophomore year. They also won for junior and senior years. The only thing I got nominated for during my sophomore and junior years was "Best All Around." This was the one category in which the nominations were not done by the students. If you had a high GPA and participated in school activities, you were automatically nominated. However, I was never ranked among the top five boys on the list.
During my senior year, something interesting happened. I found my name among the nominations for "Most Talented." I couldn't believe it. I was the only non-athlete boy ever nominated for "Most Talented" during the three years I attended high school. I felt like I'd actually won, except that I wouldn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. I also noticed that among the girls, there was a member of the band who was nominated. That was who I voted for. But as I mentioned before, we didn't win.
I also got a surprise nomination for "Most Dependable" in addition to "Best All Around." I lost those, too. But really, I was disappointed that no one ever nominated me for "Class Clown." I thought I was pretty funny. I guess I was the only one who thought so.
Years go by and you realize that those superlatives don't mean anything in the long run. The basketball player never went to college. I guess he just wound up working for the refinery and played on the adult basketball league in Artesia with his two older brothers, who had also been named "Most Talented" in their classes. The singer never had anything close to a music career and she became a teacher at Zia Intermediate School in Artesia.
In the end, no one you meet after you leave high school cares if you were named "Most Talented" or "Most Likely to Succeed." You find out later that the people who received the most praise in high school deserved it the least once they got into the real world.
The strangest category was "Most Talented." To me, talented meant being good in artistic endeavors, like singing, playing an instrument, acting, drawing or painting. However, during my sophomore year, I was shocked at the boy my homeroom nominated. I thought, "This guy doesn't sing or play an instrument. What's his talent?" I found out later that he was a really good basketball player. I didn't really consider that talent, but everyone else did. Interestingly, the girl my homeroom nominated was a singer (although she didn't join choir until senior year).
When we got the election slips, I saw that all the boys nominated for "Most Talented" were athletes. And it was almost the same for the girls, except for the one girl that my homeroom nominated. There was no one else from choir or band on the list. I looked back at some older yearbooks, and I noticed that one year, they separated the "Most Talented" into athletic and artistic categories. I don't know why they only did that the one time. It should have carried forward.
The two we nominated went on to win sophomore year. They also won for junior and senior years. The only thing I got nominated for during my sophomore and junior years was "Best All Around." This was the one category in which the nominations were not done by the students. If you had a high GPA and participated in school activities, you were automatically nominated. However, I was never ranked among the top five boys on the list.
During my senior year, something interesting happened. I found my name among the nominations for "Most Talented." I couldn't believe it. I was the only non-athlete boy ever nominated for "Most Talented" during the three years I attended high school. I felt like I'd actually won, except that I wouldn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. I also noticed that among the girls, there was a member of the band who was nominated. That was who I voted for. But as I mentioned before, we didn't win.
I also got a surprise nomination for "Most Dependable" in addition to "Best All Around." I lost those, too. But really, I was disappointed that no one ever nominated me for "Class Clown." I thought I was pretty funny. I guess I was the only one who thought so.
Years go by and you realize that those superlatives don't mean anything in the long run. The basketball player never went to college. I guess he just wound up working for the refinery and played on the adult basketball league in Artesia with his two older brothers, who had also been named "Most Talented" in their classes. The singer never had anything close to a music career and she became a teacher at Zia Intermediate School in Artesia.
In the end, no one you meet after you leave high school cares if you were named "Most Talented" or "Most Likely to Succeed." You find out later that the people who received the most praise in high school deserved it the least once they got into the real world.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
The worst thing my mother heard from me
I had a previous post in which I detailed the worst thing that my mother ever said to me. However, that issue can go both ways and I've found that very often, it will with no realization of it at the time.
One thing I have not mentioned is how Mom wanted a daughter so much. After I was born, she thought the next child would be a girl. When she was pregnant, she was expecting one the entire time. (This was in the days before ultrasound.) After she delivered, she was told that the baby was a boy. Mom then went into a state of denial and told the doctor he was wrong, that it was a girl. She eventually had to come to terms with Loyd being a boy and thought she would get a daughter on the third try. As mentioned before, Loyd turned out to be a very difficult baby, crying all night long sometimes. My Mom probably felt that she could endure it a lot better if Loyd had been a girl. Later, Mom decided that Loyd was God's way of telling her she should not have any more children.
Mom maintained this state of depression through our school years. Then, one of Mom's teacher friends did something interesting. She adopted a Hispanic boy who was about six years old. When my Mom was hanging out with them, they appeared to be having a good time and had bonded as mother and son.
One day, Mom called Loyd and me downstairs into the living room. Dad was there. Mom said outright, "I'm going to adopt a little Mexican girl. What do you boys think?"
We both immediately started laughing. I said, "Mom, you're kidding, right?" After all, this was the same woman who had us believing she had fed us dog food a few years ago.
Mom seemed really upset and left the room. Dad never said anything. Loyd and I went back upstairs. I started thinking about the possiblity of having a younger sister living with us. It really didn't seem like it would be that bad. Some time later, Mom left the house. Loyd came into my room and told me Mom had gone out to meet a girl that she might adopt. He said he felt bad about us laughing at Mom. I told him I felt bad, too. He said it would be nice to have a sister, but he was a little bit concerned about what other people would say about us having a Hispanic sister.
With Mom having gone to see a girl to adopt, I started mentally preparing for the presence of another child in the house. I didn't know if this meant that Loyd and I were going to have to be in the same room again or if Mom was going to turn the sewing room at the end of the hall into a bedroom, which would have been large enough for a six-year-old girl. She would have moved into my room after I left for college. (That means I would have had to stay in the little room on those occasions when I returned home from college.
But we never did get that little sister. Mom never talked about adoption again and I never knew what happened when she met the girl. Years later, after my parents divorced, Dad actually expressed gratitude at our initial reaction. He really did not want to have to take care of another child for the next 12 years, especially with Loyd and me about to leave the house in a few short years. He was afraid that while things would improve for a little while, Mom would go back to being her old self, in need of anti-depressants, which she never took before my Dad left her. He really did not want to subject another child to her erratic behavior.
Looking back, I think if Mom had approached Loyd and me a little differently, we would have responded a lot more positively. As I said, she just came right out and said it. If she had finessed it with a preamble, like "I've always wanted to raise a daughter. I have an opportunity to do that by adopting a six-year-old Mexican girl, and I hope you two boys will be supportive." We would have been a lot less likely to laugh because it wasn't so abrupt.
But there's no telling how things would have turned out if we hadn't laughed. She appeared to be prepared to go through with it even without our blessing, but I guess our attitude kept her from actually bringing someone home to stay with us. I will always feel bad for laughing at Mom over something that meant so much to her at the time.
One thing I have not mentioned is how Mom wanted a daughter so much. After I was born, she thought the next child would be a girl. When she was pregnant, she was expecting one the entire time. (This was in the days before ultrasound.) After she delivered, she was told that the baby was a boy. Mom then went into a state of denial and told the doctor he was wrong, that it was a girl. She eventually had to come to terms with Loyd being a boy and thought she would get a daughter on the third try. As mentioned before, Loyd turned out to be a very difficult baby, crying all night long sometimes. My Mom probably felt that she could endure it a lot better if Loyd had been a girl. Later, Mom decided that Loyd was God's way of telling her she should not have any more children.
Mom maintained this state of depression through our school years. Then, one of Mom's teacher friends did something interesting. She adopted a Hispanic boy who was about six years old. When my Mom was hanging out with them, they appeared to be having a good time and had bonded as mother and son.
One day, Mom called Loyd and me downstairs into the living room. Dad was there. Mom said outright, "I'm going to adopt a little Mexican girl. What do you boys think?"
We both immediately started laughing. I said, "Mom, you're kidding, right?" After all, this was the same woman who had us believing she had fed us dog food a few years ago.
Mom seemed really upset and left the room. Dad never said anything. Loyd and I went back upstairs. I started thinking about the possiblity of having a younger sister living with us. It really didn't seem like it would be that bad. Some time later, Mom left the house. Loyd came into my room and told me Mom had gone out to meet a girl that she might adopt. He said he felt bad about us laughing at Mom. I told him I felt bad, too. He said it would be nice to have a sister, but he was a little bit concerned about what other people would say about us having a Hispanic sister.
With Mom having gone to see a girl to adopt, I started mentally preparing for the presence of another child in the house. I didn't know if this meant that Loyd and I were going to have to be in the same room again or if Mom was going to turn the sewing room at the end of the hall into a bedroom, which would have been large enough for a six-year-old girl. She would have moved into my room after I left for college. (That means I would have had to stay in the little room on those occasions when I returned home from college.
But we never did get that little sister. Mom never talked about adoption again and I never knew what happened when she met the girl. Years later, after my parents divorced, Dad actually expressed gratitude at our initial reaction. He really did not want to have to take care of another child for the next 12 years, especially with Loyd and me about to leave the house in a few short years. He was afraid that while things would improve for a little while, Mom would go back to being her old self, in need of anti-depressants, which she never took before my Dad left her. He really did not want to subject another child to her erratic behavior.
Looking back, I think if Mom had approached Loyd and me a little differently, we would have responded a lot more positively. As I said, she just came right out and said it. If she had finessed it with a preamble, like "I've always wanted to raise a daughter. I have an opportunity to do that by adopting a six-year-old Mexican girl, and I hope you two boys will be supportive." We would have been a lot less likely to laugh because it wasn't so abrupt.
But there's no telling how things would have turned out if we hadn't laughed. She appeared to be prepared to go through with it even without our blessing, but I guess our attitude kept her from actually bringing someone home to stay with us. I will always feel bad for laughing at Mom over something that meant so much to her at the time.
Monday, July 21, 2014
There were some good times during my senior year
I know the last few posts have been really down on my senior year experience. I would like you to know that there were some parts that I did enjoy.
I got to go to the DECA Leadership Conference. I ran for Regional Vice President. There were seven other students from our region from other schools running. I lost, but since I got out of school for a few days, it didn't really matter.
At that conference, I met a couple of interesting people. One was this girl that I thought I had seen before. It took me awhile, but then I realized where I had seen her. She was at Boys State. She worked in the cafeteria at the New Mexico Military Institute and was the only girl our age anywhere on the campus. She got a lot of attention. When I asked her if she was at Boys State, she seemed embarrassed about it.
I also met this other girl named Dawz. Dawz was running for Vice President in her region. One of the things all the candidates had to do was take a multiple choice test. You had to score at least an 85 to get to run. None of the other candidates in her region passed the test, so she automatically became the Vice President.
At that time, I thought of Dawz as the perfect woman. She was very smart, attractive and we appeared to enjoy talking to each other. I would run into her twice more. I saw her at the State DECA conference and during the summer at the National DECA conference. I will go into more detail about her in a later post.
I also got to go to All State for Choir. I didn't get to go my junior year. The day I auditioned then, I had a bad cold and there was just no way I could sound like my normal self or work in the fact that I had been to All State my sophomore year. I felt triumphant in getting to return my senior year.
The entire Choir got to go to a Music Festival in Texas. We competed and as usual, got a 2 for our efforts. (As explained before, a 1 is the highest score.) We also got to spend a lot of time at Six Flags over Texas. About a week after we got home, we found out that we had been awarded the Best in our division. That was a great way to end my school involvement in choir.
And of course, there was the usual graduation and celebrating that took place. I'll go into more details about those later. There's plenty to stay tuned for.
I got to go to the DECA Leadership Conference. I ran for Regional Vice President. There were seven other students from our region from other schools running. I lost, but since I got out of school for a few days, it didn't really matter.
At that conference, I met a couple of interesting people. One was this girl that I thought I had seen before. It took me awhile, but then I realized where I had seen her. She was at Boys State. She worked in the cafeteria at the New Mexico Military Institute and was the only girl our age anywhere on the campus. She got a lot of attention. When I asked her if she was at Boys State, she seemed embarrassed about it.
I also met this other girl named Dawz. Dawz was running for Vice President in her region. One of the things all the candidates had to do was take a multiple choice test. You had to score at least an 85 to get to run. None of the other candidates in her region passed the test, so she automatically became the Vice President.
At that time, I thought of Dawz as the perfect woman. She was very smart, attractive and we appeared to enjoy talking to each other. I would run into her twice more. I saw her at the State DECA conference and during the summer at the National DECA conference. I will go into more detail about her in a later post.
I also got to go to All State for Choir. I didn't get to go my junior year. The day I auditioned then, I had a bad cold and there was just no way I could sound like my normal self or work in the fact that I had been to All State my sophomore year. I felt triumphant in getting to return my senior year.
The entire Choir got to go to a Music Festival in Texas. We competed and as usual, got a 2 for our efforts. (As explained before, a 1 is the highest score.) We also got to spend a lot of time at Six Flags over Texas. About a week after we got home, we found out that we had been awarded the Best in our division. That was a great way to end my school involvement in choir.
And of course, there was the usual graduation and celebrating that took place. I'll go into more details about those later. There's plenty to stay tuned for.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Death of an old friend
I'm doing something a little different for my Friday video today. As you can see, I don't have much to laugh about.
Her funeral is tomorrow (07/18/14). I will not be able to go.
I made reference to her sister Dez in this blog post.
Her funeral is tomorrow (07/18/14). I will not be able to go.
I made reference to her sister Dez in this blog post.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Senior Year, Period 4: Physics
Physics is the class I should not have taken. Seniors who are meeting their academic requirements were permitted to take one class session off for the year. If I had wanted to, I could have had an extra hour to catch up on some sleep. It probably would have been a lot better to do that than take Physics.
Physics is listed as a science class, but it's really a math class. In the years leading up to me enrolling, all the students had to buy slide rules to do their calculations. By my senior year, scientific calculators had eliminated the need for that device. I remember there being this six-foot slide rule in the lab that was used to teach the students how to use one.
Probably the biggest problem I had with the class was that all the jerks I had to deal with were also in there. I'm talking about Pid, John and Jend, and some other twerps whose names are not even worth writing. There were some people in there who I thought were friends, but would join in the ribbing I was subjected to on a daily basis.
My attitude toward the class started forming along the lines of Math Analysis. I sat in the back, away from everyone else. After awhile, I stopped doing the homework. The only problem with doing this in Physics was that we were required to turn our notebooks in. We were supposed to leave them outside the classroom door for the teacher to pick up. Mine was incomplete, so I didn't leave one.
The teacher said she didn't get my notebook. I told her I turned it in. Because she was aware of what the other students were putting me through, she knew it was possible one of them could have stolen my notebook. She gave me a B for the semester. That kept me from going on the academic trip that year, but it didn't matter because I didn't want to do the classwork in the first place.
My Mom found out about the incident and suggested I withdraw from the class. I thought it would be a good idea and I would just go home at lunch every day and take a long nap. However, my Physics teacher talked me into sticking it out, saying that a withdrawal wouldn't look good on my transcript. I stayed with the class, coasted and got a C for the second sememster. That was the only C I had received since the fifth grade. I should have just withdrawn and caught up on my sleep.
In college, I was required to take only one Science class. I chose Biology because I remembered how easy it was in high school. However, I was doing poorly in the Biology class at the point in which I could have withdrawn. I decided to stick with it. After that deadline had passed, the Music Department announced that the next semester, it would have a class called "The Physics of Music" that would count toward our Science requirement. A Music major I knew was in my Biology class. She was also mad that we didn't find out about the Physics class until after we were no longer able to withdraw from Biology. We both would have taken that.
So, here I am, so much later in life. I really did not have much need for Physics, except to be able to make a couple of nerd jokes.
One other note: This is the last of my class-by-class synopses. I will not be doing this for my college years because I took a lot of different classes each semester and the breakdowns will cause this blog to go on another year before I finally reach the point in my life in which I am considered an adult. (Actually, I still don't think I've reached that point in my life.)
Physics is listed as a science class, but it's really a math class. In the years leading up to me enrolling, all the students had to buy slide rules to do their calculations. By my senior year, scientific calculators had eliminated the need for that device. I remember there being this six-foot slide rule in the lab that was used to teach the students how to use one.
Probably the biggest problem I had with the class was that all the jerks I had to deal with were also in there. I'm talking about Pid, John and Jend, and some other twerps whose names are not even worth writing. There were some people in there who I thought were friends, but would join in the ribbing I was subjected to on a daily basis.
My attitude toward the class started forming along the lines of Math Analysis. I sat in the back, away from everyone else. After awhile, I stopped doing the homework. The only problem with doing this in Physics was that we were required to turn our notebooks in. We were supposed to leave them outside the classroom door for the teacher to pick up. Mine was incomplete, so I didn't leave one.
The teacher said she didn't get my notebook. I told her I turned it in. Because she was aware of what the other students were putting me through, she knew it was possible one of them could have stolen my notebook. She gave me a B for the semester. That kept me from going on the academic trip that year, but it didn't matter because I didn't want to do the classwork in the first place.
My Mom found out about the incident and suggested I withdraw from the class. I thought it would be a good idea and I would just go home at lunch every day and take a long nap. However, my Physics teacher talked me into sticking it out, saying that a withdrawal wouldn't look good on my transcript. I stayed with the class, coasted and got a C for the second sememster. That was the only C I had received since the fifth grade. I should have just withdrawn and caught up on my sleep.
In college, I was required to take only one Science class. I chose Biology because I remembered how easy it was in high school. However, I was doing poorly in the Biology class at the point in which I could have withdrawn. I decided to stick with it. After that deadline had passed, the Music Department announced that the next semester, it would have a class called "The Physics of Music" that would count toward our Science requirement. A Music major I knew was in my Biology class. She was also mad that we didn't find out about the Physics class until after we were no longer able to withdraw from Biology. We both would have taken that.
So, here I am, so much later in life. I really did not have much need for Physics, except to be able to make a couple of nerd jokes.
One other note: This is the last of my class-by-class synopses. I will not be doing this for my college years because I took a lot of different classes each semester and the breakdowns will cause this blog to go on another year before I finally reach the point in my life in which I am considered an adult. (Actually, I still don't think I've reached that point in my life.)
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Senior Year, Period 3: Math Analysis
If I didn't have much need for Geometry my sophomore year, or Algebra II II my junior year, I sure the heck did not need Math Analysis my senior year. I was really good at Math, but I didn't really enjoy it. I had reached my threshold for tolerance of the subject after 11 straight years. (At least I got a two-year break from Science in the eighth and ninth grades.)
Just like my second period class, I had no idea what the function of Math Analysis was. I guess it was supposed to be a preamble to Calculus, but our school didn't offer that course when I was a student there. I had the same teacher I had for the 10th grade Geometry class.
I started my path to being an unethical student in this class. This was because the teacher did not grade our homework. We were supposed to hand our homework to a nearby student and they would grade it while he read the answers aloud in class. After awhile, it got to the point that no one wanted to grade my homework, so I started grading it myself. A little while after that, I stopped marking my answers wrong. A little while after that, I just stopped doing the homework and would announce grades in the 90s.
I had a good reputation as an honest student. It was easy for me to get away with that. However, the problem came on the tests. Because I wasn't doing the homework, I had difficulties scoring anything above a C on the tests.
Ever since the sixth grade, the teachers would issue "Unsatisfactory Reports" to parents when their children weren't doing well in their classes. These were typically referred to as "Failing Slips" by the students. The nickname was a misnomer as they didn't always indicate that you were failing, just that you were doing unsatisfactory work. For the only time in my life, I got a "Failing Slip." The teacher is supposed to give it to the student, who then takes it to his parents to sign and bring it back. My Math Analysis teacher gave the slip directly to my mother. It said I was doing well on the homework, but not on the tests. Mom had a little discussion with me about that. I just said I would try harder.
I really didn't know what I was going to do. I had already cruised through most of the year without really learning anything. And then something unexpected and unusual happened. The teacher started instructing us on the concept of "Interpolation." This was some long, drawn-out process linked to sines, cosines, tangents, cotangents, secants and cosecants which I really didn't understand. But I did understand that the routine we had to go through to find the answers was extremely inefficient, because it involved us constantly having to look at the tables in the book for those designations. Every problem took at least five minutes to do. When he was showing us how to do it, I realized how much quicker it would be to do it on our scientific calculators. I went home that night and actually did my homework. I was able to do it in mere minutes.
When I came back to class the next day, everybody was complaining about how long the problems took. Someone said, "I wish there was a way to do this on our calculators!" I said, "There is!" During the time we were given in class to work on problems, I attempted to show some of the students how to work interpolation on their calculators. Not one of the students could grasp how to do it, even if I wrote down the specific instructions. This was even true of the students who had a higher class rank than me, even the "valedictorian."
The teacher was aware I was showing everyone the calculator shortcut. However, he wasn't aware that no one "got" how to do it, so he made the test really tough. I got through the test in a half hour and was permitted to leave class early to go to lunch. The rest of the class actually stayed through the first 20 minutes of lunch to complete their tests. I got a 95 percent on that test. It was enough to keep the teacher from giving my Mom any more "Unsatisfactory Reports" the rest of the year.
To tell the truth, there were some unexpected benefits that arose from taking all those Math classes. During the school year, in preparation for going to college, I took the American College Test. (I did not take the SAT.) I scored very well on the Math section. In fact, I did so well that I got automatic credit for my Math requirements when I attended Eastern New Mexico University. This meant that after high school, I never had to take another Math class for the rest of my life.
The current version of me thanks my past self for that.
Just like my second period class, I had no idea what the function of Math Analysis was. I guess it was supposed to be a preamble to Calculus, but our school didn't offer that course when I was a student there. I had the same teacher I had for the 10th grade Geometry class.
I started my path to being an unethical student in this class. This was because the teacher did not grade our homework. We were supposed to hand our homework to a nearby student and they would grade it while he read the answers aloud in class. After awhile, it got to the point that no one wanted to grade my homework, so I started grading it myself. A little while after that, I stopped marking my answers wrong. A little while after that, I just stopped doing the homework and would announce grades in the 90s.
I had a good reputation as an honest student. It was easy for me to get away with that. However, the problem came on the tests. Because I wasn't doing the homework, I had difficulties scoring anything above a C on the tests.
Ever since the sixth grade, the teachers would issue "Unsatisfactory Reports" to parents when their children weren't doing well in their classes. These were typically referred to as "Failing Slips" by the students. The nickname was a misnomer as they didn't always indicate that you were failing, just that you were doing unsatisfactory work. For the only time in my life, I got a "Failing Slip." The teacher is supposed to give it to the student, who then takes it to his parents to sign and bring it back. My Math Analysis teacher gave the slip directly to my mother. It said I was doing well on the homework, but not on the tests. Mom had a little discussion with me about that. I just said I would try harder.
I really didn't know what I was going to do. I had already cruised through most of the year without really learning anything. And then something unexpected and unusual happened. The teacher started instructing us on the concept of "Interpolation." This was some long, drawn-out process linked to sines, cosines, tangents, cotangents, secants and cosecants which I really didn't understand. But I did understand that the routine we had to go through to find the answers was extremely inefficient, because it involved us constantly having to look at the tables in the book for those designations. Every problem took at least five minutes to do. When he was showing us how to do it, I realized how much quicker it would be to do it on our scientific calculators. I went home that night and actually did my homework. I was able to do it in mere minutes.
When I came back to class the next day, everybody was complaining about how long the problems took. Someone said, "I wish there was a way to do this on our calculators!" I said, "There is!" During the time we were given in class to work on problems, I attempted to show some of the students how to work interpolation on their calculators. Not one of the students could grasp how to do it, even if I wrote down the specific instructions. This was even true of the students who had a higher class rank than me, even the "valedictorian."
The teacher was aware I was showing everyone the calculator shortcut. However, he wasn't aware that no one "got" how to do it, so he made the test really tough. I got through the test in a half hour and was permitted to leave class early to go to lunch. The rest of the class actually stayed through the first 20 minutes of lunch to complete their tests. I got a 95 percent on that test. It was enough to keep the teacher from giving my Mom any more "Unsatisfactory Reports" the rest of the year.
To tell the truth, there were some unexpected benefits that arose from taking all those Math classes. During the school year, in preparation for going to college, I took the American College Test. (I did not take the SAT.) I scored very well on the Math section. In fact, I did so well that I got automatic credit for my Math requirements when I attended Eastern New Mexico University. This meant that after high school, I never had to take another Math class for the rest of my life.
The current version of me thanks my past self for that.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Senior Year, Period 2: Distributive Education
Distributive Education was the class that my Mom taught. Just as I was forced to go through all 12 years of regular grade school so that I could increase the district's average on the standardized tests, Mom wanted me to take her class so that I would increase the level of performance among her students.
I had been warned before by my friend Rod that the subject of the class was very boring. Rod would say that my Mom was a good teacher, but he wasn't really interested in the subject.
I tried everything to get out of the class. When I went to register for my courses, and we had to visit each teacher to register, I went to my Mom's table last in hopes that her 2nd period class would fill up. That just did not happen.
The class basically seemed to be about how to work and do your job. It also covered concepts like profit margins and marketing. But the class was only part of it. The other part was the jobs that we worked outside of school. I found out later that we got graded by our employers and that would impact our GPA. No one, NOT EVEN MY MOM, told me about this beforehand.
Fortune fell upon me early in the semester. The Distributive Education classes were the backbone of Artesia High School's chapter of the Distributive Education Clubs of America, or DECA. Our DECA chapter was going to work on a project to enter into the state competition. We decided to do the "Free Enterprise" project. My mom had selected a couple of girls from the second period class to head it up. I guess they told her they would need someone else on the project and Mom probably volunteered me. They agreed.
With us working on the project, we didn't have to take part in the learning part of the class. We would tell her we were going to run errands associated with the project. Actually, we just drove around for an hour and got fast food. We would do some actual work from time to time, but that maybe took up to one hour each week. My mother never questioned our whereabouts.
So, how did our project work out in the state competition? We came in first place. Please note that there probably weren't more than five other schools in the state that picked this as their chapter project.
Even though we didn't have to actually learn anything in class because we were working on the project, we did have to compete in the individual competitions for our region and state. The girl who headed up the project didn't have to do it, but the other girl and I had to. Mom ran me through a crash course to prepare for the test. Both the other girl and I came in first place in our region. That meant we got to go to the state competition in the individual categories.
In fact, in the regional competition, which included other towns like Carlsbad, Hobbs and Lovington, there were 36 slots for students to go to the state competition. Our DECA chapter got 18 of those slots.
I did not win at state because two parts of the competition involved role-playing interaction with judges. My category was in clothing retail. In one scenario, I was supposed to handle an alleged shoplifter who sets off the alarm. When I was reading the scenario, it said that the contestant was not supposed to know that the judge had not stolen the merchandise. I realized I was not supposed to see that, quickly closed the folder and looked for the folder I was supposed to read. When we started, I thought an actual alarm was supposed to go off. It didn't. No one explained that I was supposed to pretend it went off. So I quickly talked to the judge, and she said that she had bought the merchandise from one of our employees. I asked her which one. She pointed at an invisible person behind the counter. This was really no help. I had a one-sided conversation with thin air and verified that the judge had indeed purchased the merchandise. I apologized to the judge and that was it.
The next role-playing situation was to sell the judge something in a men's clothing store. Even though I worked in a clothing store, I was not a salesperson. I was a janitor. We go through this whole process and the only thing he buys is a pair of socks. I knew I did not do well. Did my Asperger Syndrome play a role in this? I don't know. It's not like I completely avoided talking to the judges, but I know I never was able to come up with the right things to say.
At the end of the school year, my Mom did something somewhat unethical. She asked my employer, Mr. E, to give me a grade for my job performance. He gave me a C. Mom was supposed to put that grade on my report card. However, since she didn't want it to affect me that badly, she went ahead and changed it to an A. I could not believe Mom did that. I mean, I'm glad she did, but that really went against her principles as a teacher. (Actually, she shouldn't have allowed the employers to have that kind of control over the grades. She should have had them complete written evaluations and then she could confer with the students about the evaluations, get their sides of the stories and grade accordingly.)
More than 20 years later, I told Mom about the goofing off the two girls and I did when we were supposed to be working on the project. Since she had started taking anti-depressants, it didn't bother her as much as it would have when we were getting away with it. She was actually surprised that our project came in first place with us doing so little work on it.
Yes, it was a worthless class. Some of my other classes my senior year were also worthless. It's no wonder I was in zombie mode the whole year.
I had been warned before by my friend Rod that the subject of the class was very boring. Rod would say that my Mom was a good teacher, but he wasn't really interested in the subject.
I tried everything to get out of the class. When I went to register for my courses, and we had to visit each teacher to register, I went to my Mom's table last in hopes that her 2nd period class would fill up. That just did not happen.
The class basically seemed to be about how to work and do your job. It also covered concepts like profit margins and marketing. But the class was only part of it. The other part was the jobs that we worked outside of school. I found out later that we got graded by our employers and that would impact our GPA. No one, NOT EVEN MY MOM, told me about this beforehand.
Fortune fell upon me early in the semester. The Distributive Education classes were the backbone of Artesia High School's chapter of the Distributive Education Clubs of America, or DECA. Our DECA chapter was going to work on a project to enter into the state competition. We decided to do the "Free Enterprise" project. My mom had selected a couple of girls from the second period class to head it up. I guess they told her they would need someone else on the project and Mom probably volunteered me. They agreed.
With us working on the project, we didn't have to take part in the learning part of the class. We would tell her we were going to run errands associated with the project. Actually, we just drove around for an hour and got fast food. We would do some actual work from time to time, but that maybe took up to one hour each week. My mother never questioned our whereabouts.
So, how did our project work out in the state competition? We came in first place. Please note that there probably weren't more than five other schools in the state that picked this as their chapter project.
Even though we didn't have to actually learn anything in class because we were working on the project, we did have to compete in the individual competitions for our region and state. The girl who headed up the project didn't have to do it, but the other girl and I had to. Mom ran me through a crash course to prepare for the test. Both the other girl and I came in first place in our region. That meant we got to go to the state competition in the individual categories.
In fact, in the regional competition, which included other towns like Carlsbad, Hobbs and Lovington, there were 36 slots for students to go to the state competition. Our DECA chapter got 18 of those slots.
I did not win at state because two parts of the competition involved role-playing interaction with judges. My category was in clothing retail. In one scenario, I was supposed to handle an alleged shoplifter who sets off the alarm. When I was reading the scenario, it said that the contestant was not supposed to know that the judge had not stolen the merchandise. I realized I was not supposed to see that, quickly closed the folder and looked for the folder I was supposed to read. When we started, I thought an actual alarm was supposed to go off. It didn't. No one explained that I was supposed to pretend it went off. So I quickly talked to the judge, and she said that she had bought the merchandise from one of our employees. I asked her which one. She pointed at an invisible person behind the counter. This was really no help. I had a one-sided conversation with thin air and verified that the judge had indeed purchased the merchandise. I apologized to the judge and that was it.
The next role-playing situation was to sell the judge something in a men's clothing store. Even though I worked in a clothing store, I was not a salesperson. I was a janitor. We go through this whole process and the only thing he buys is a pair of socks. I knew I did not do well. Did my Asperger Syndrome play a role in this? I don't know. It's not like I completely avoided talking to the judges, but I know I never was able to come up with the right things to say.
At the end of the school year, my Mom did something somewhat unethical. She asked my employer, Mr. E, to give me a grade for my job performance. He gave me a C. Mom was supposed to put that grade on my report card. However, since she didn't want it to affect me that badly, she went ahead and changed it to an A. I could not believe Mom did that. I mean, I'm glad she did, but that really went against her principles as a teacher. (Actually, she shouldn't have allowed the employers to have that kind of control over the grades. She should have had them complete written evaluations and then she could confer with the students about the evaluations, get their sides of the stories and grade accordingly.)
More than 20 years later, I told Mom about the goofing off the two girls and I did when we were supposed to be working on the project. Since she had started taking anti-depressants, it didn't bother her as much as it would have when we were getting away with it. She was actually surprised that our project came in first place with us doing so little work on it.
Yes, it was a worthless class. Some of my other classes my senior year were also worthless. It's no wonder I was in zombie mode the whole year.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Senior Year, Period 1: U.S. Government/Current Events
My senior year required us all to take the U.S. Government class for one semester and another Social Studies class for the second semester to fulfill our requirements for graduation. The Current Events class was the only one available in the same time slot for the spring semester, so I took that. Virtually the entire class did the exact same thing. We were supposed to have the same teacher both semesters, but the Government teacher quit at the end of the fall semester to go work for the oil industry in Artesia.
I don't recall much about the Government class. There wasn't a lot that we hadn't already learned in previous Social Studies classes. A year before (1980), they had the Presidential election to work into the class and everybody got really into it. We didn't get to do anything special. The teacher was one of the more popular ones on campus. When I did the college-style registration, this was the first class I signed up for. It turned out to be the first class that got completely filled up.
We wound up with a fresh new teacher for the second semester. He had been a student teacher the previous semester and did some coaching on the football team. Everyone called him "Chief," even after he became a full-time teacher. He probably wasn't much older than 22. He was really able to relate to the students because of his age, but that didn't necessarily make him a good teacher.
One interesting thing was that when we did role-playing one day, he was able to pick up on my image as the class loser, and this was by making very little contact with me.
The class itself was mostly about a lot of issues that were a part of what was going on in the outside world at that time. He even spent some time on the prospects of job interviewing. He told us about what he experienced when he interviewed in college to be a Resident Assistant and had me be the one trying for the job. He was asking all these crazy questions, which was what he actually went through. I thought the wacky interview was something I would only encounter in college. It would turn out to be something I dealt with later in my post-college life. I will go into detail about that when the time comes.
I never saw the Government teacher again, even though he still lived in Artesia. The next year, I saw Chief at a restaurant in the town where I went to college. He had gotten a job at a school in another town in New Mexico and was with one of the sports teams. He did not remember me.
I guess the main problem I had with both classes was that, at no point did we discuss the fundamental differences between Republicans and Democrats. In one way, I guess that was good because I went through the early part of my life with no preconceived notions about what the memberships of the two parties consisted of. However, in my early stages of adulthood, I had a hard time grasping the real issues in government and couldn't understand why the two groups always seemed to be diametrically opposed to each other.
This issue would come back to haunt me later in life.
I don't recall much about the Government class. There wasn't a lot that we hadn't already learned in previous Social Studies classes. A year before (1980), they had the Presidential election to work into the class and everybody got really into it. We didn't get to do anything special. The teacher was one of the more popular ones on campus. When I did the college-style registration, this was the first class I signed up for. It turned out to be the first class that got completely filled up.
We wound up with a fresh new teacher for the second semester. He had been a student teacher the previous semester and did some coaching on the football team. Everyone called him "Chief," even after he became a full-time teacher. He probably wasn't much older than 22. He was really able to relate to the students because of his age, but that didn't necessarily make him a good teacher.
One interesting thing was that when we did role-playing one day, he was able to pick up on my image as the class loser, and this was by making very little contact with me.
The class itself was mostly about a lot of issues that were a part of what was going on in the outside world at that time. He even spent some time on the prospects of job interviewing. He told us about what he experienced when he interviewed in college to be a Resident Assistant and had me be the one trying for the job. He was asking all these crazy questions, which was what he actually went through. I thought the wacky interview was something I would only encounter in college. It would turn out to be something I dealt with later in my post-college life. I will go into detail about that when the time comes.
I never saw the Government teacher again, even though he still lived in Artesia. The next year, I saw Chief at a restaurant in the town where I went to college. He had gotten a job at a school in another town in New Mexico and was with one of the sports teams. He did not remember me.
I guess the main problem I had with both classes was that, at no point did we discuss the fundamental differences between Republicans and Democrats. In one way, I guess that was good because I went through the early part of my life with no preconceived notions about what the memberships of the two parties consisted of. However, in my early stages of adulthood, I had a hard time grasping the real issues in government and couldn't understand why the two groups always seemed to be diametrically opposed to each other.
This issue would come back to haunt me later in life.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Friday Freakiness
See how straight my teeth are?
I actually still have two of my wisdom teeth. They're both on the left side of my mouth.
I actually still have two of my wisdom teeth. They're both on the left side of my mouth.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Pete Townshend said it best...
I wonder how many of the attributes of my relatives I will carry with me when I become a senior citizen.
The scary thing is that I am a little more than 15 years away from that threshold.
The scary thing is that I am a little more than 15 years away from that threshold.
Monday, July 7, 2014
A couple of interesting changes my senior year
The new school year in the fall of 1981 saw a couple of drastic adjustments to school policies. These were things that I wish had been put into effect years earlier.
The first one was kind of peculiar. After years of seeing students humiliated for this violation, it was now okay to chew gum in class. The only restriction was that we could not loudly smack the the gum in our mouths.
It was around this time that there was a particular study making its way around the schools. It showed the top three complaints teachers had about school in the 1950s. They were
1. Students talking in the class
2. Students chewing gum in class
3. Running in the halls
More problems had surmounted for teachers in the previous 25 years and these slid down the list. I guess the thought was to get rid of one of these problems and maybe some of the other newer ones would follow. That didn't happen, but I did enjoy chewing gum without having to worry about getting in trouble.
The other major change was the grading scale. Ever since I was in the fourth grade, the percentage went like this:
94 - 100: A
85 - 93: B
78 - 84: C
71 - 77: D
0 - 70: F
Starting the fall of 1981, the new grading scale went like this:
90 - 100: A
80 - 89: B
70 - 79: C
60 - 69: D
0 - 59: F
This really solved a lot of problems. For starters, pop quizzes typically had 10 questions on them. On the old scale, if you missed ONLY one question, you got a B and that counted toward your class average. Enough of those incidents of not being perfect could bring down your score, and it was even worse if you missed two questions and wound up with a C or three questions and get an F. The new scale allowed you to make one mistake and still have an A, or two mistakes for a B. It also made it a lot easier to figure out what letter grade you got on an assignment. A 92 would look like a good score, but it only rated a B. One other issue was that, in the law of averages, you had a 70 percent chance of failing a test or assignment, but only a 7 percent chance of getting an A.
It should be noted that a number of my teachers were already using the new scale because they saw these same problems with the old one. The main difference with the implementation was that if you scored between a 89.6 and 89.9, the teacher was not permitted to round it up to an A.
While I was happy to see this change, I was upset because they would not make it retroactive. I wondered how many classes in which I got a B would be changed to an A and increase my GPA. (In the end, I figured out my GPA didn't really amount to anything in the real world.)
Of course, making it retroactive for me would have meant making it retroactive for everyone, including people who flunked out of school in previous years. I wonder how many students would have benefitted from having 60 as a passing grade and would have been able to get diplomas. I guess the key thing here is that report cards usually only showed the letter grade and not the percentage. This probably prevents tons of lawsuits against the schools in the 1980s.
The first one was kind of peculiar. After years of seeing students humiliated for this violation, it was now okay to chew gum in class. The only restriction was that we could not loudly smack the the gum in our mouths.
It was around this time that there was a particular study making its way around the schools. It showed the top three complaints teachers had about school in the 1950s. They were
1. Students talking in the class
2. Students chewing gum in class
3. Running in the halls
More problems had surmounted for teachers in the previous 25 years and these slid down the list. I guess the thought was to get rid of one of these problems and maybe some of the other newer ones would follow. That didn't happen, but I did enjoy chewing gum without having to worry about getting in trouble.
The other major change was the grading scale. Ever since I was in the fourth grade, the percentage went like this:
94 - 100: A
85 - 93: B
78 - 84: C
71 - 77: D
0 - 70: F
Starting the fall of 1981, the new grading scale went like this:
90 - 100: A
80 - 89: B
70 - 79: C
60 - 69: D
0 - 59: F
This really solved a lot of problems. For starters, pop quizzes typically had 10 questions on them. On the old scale, if you missed ONLY one question, you got a B and that counted toward your class average. Enough of those incidents of not being perfect could bring down your score, and it was even worse if you missed two questions and wound up with a C or three questions and get an F. The new scale allowed you to make one mistake and still have an A, or two mistakes for a B. It also made it a lot easier to figure out what letter grade you got on an assignment. A 92 would look like a good score, but it only rated a B. One other issue was that, in the law of averages, you had a 70 percent chance of failing a test or assignment, but only a 7 percent chance of getting an A.
It should be noted that a number of my teachers were already using the new scale because they saw these same problems with the old one. The main difference with the implementation was that if you scored between a 89.6 and 89.9, the teacher was not permitted to round it up to an A.
While I was happy to see this change, I was upset because they would not make it retroactive. I wondered how many classes in which I got a B would be changed to an A and increase my GPA. (In the end, I figured out my GPA didn't really amount to anything in the real world.)
Of course, making it retroactive for me would have meant making it retroactive for everyone, including people who flunked out of school in previous years. I wonder how many students would have benefitted from having 60 as a passing grade and would have been able to get diplomas. I guess the key thing here is that report cards usually only showed the letter grade and not the percentage. This probably prevents tons of lawsuits against the schools in the 1980s.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Back to (grade) school for the last time: Senior Year
So this was it. One more year of school to go before I would head off into the wild blue yonder and paint it red. Senior year was finally here, but, as mentioned before, it did not live up to my expectations.
From everything I had ever seen and read about being a teenager, this was supposed to be the best year of my life. Unfortunately, there were too many obstacles that kept me from enjoying my youth. One job was great, but two jobs was too much and it didn't help that I hated my second job.
The whole year, I just didn't want anything to do with anyone. I figured that if I felt like I wasn't missing out on anything, then it wouldn't really matter if I did. I almost felt worse than I did the previous year in which I considered suicide, but my entire attitude really showed it on the outside.
Things were so bad, I wouldn't even listen to music on the radio. I had almost no clue what the most popular songs of my senior year were because I was just so into my own music. When I worked at a radio station two years after graduating high school, I was surprised at the songs from that period that were big hits.
I can say that I learned how to deal with so many consecutive disappointments that year. The first one was the Drama Club. The last two years, we produced seven plays each year and performed them publicly. (Most of those plays were one acts that were one-shot performances, like at the Festival at Eastern New Mexico University and various events around town.) We did two main-stage productions and the children's play for the schools. Before my junior year ended, my Drama teacher told me we were going to do "You Can't Take It with You" by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart. I was really looking forward to acting in that in my senior year. That play has a lot of great roles in it.
However, when I saw my teacher over the summer, she said, "Oh, I found this really funny play for us to do." It wasn't "YCTIWY." It was some other play that was a parody of TV show detectives. It sucked so much, I'm not even going mention the title of it here. And then, she told me that the only other main stage production we were going to do that year was our children's show. I WAS FURIOUS! On top of this, I didn't even get the lead role in either one of the plays!
In January, we started practicing our one act play for the Festival at ENMU. I wanted to be recognized for my acting ability and win an award. The one act play she picked (I can't remember the name) was decent, but wasn't a good fit for our acting skills. It was more of an ensemble piece, and while I didn't have the lead role, I was sort of playing the leader of the group in the drama. I was trying like the dickens to give an outstanding performance, but I wasn't backed up by the rest of the cast. We were all rather bewildered by the choice of play as it was very dark and brooding. In the middle of rehearsals, the teacher was sick for a couple of weeks. We continued to rehearse, but the substitute had no idea how to direct. (Actually, our Drama teacher didn't know how to direct, either, but at least she knew what we were supposed to do on stage.) After she came back, we ran through a rehearsal of the play. When we finished, the teacher decided we would go to Festival, but we wouldn't be putting on the play. DANG IT!
I guess that the Drama department's budget had been slashed, so there wasn't enough money to mount another production that year, and one of the areas in which we probably had to cut was in paying royalty fees. She likely had to pick something that could be really done on the cheap. However, she never explained this. As I've mentioned before, the Drama class and club disappeared the next year, so I guess I should consider myself lucky that they didn't do away with it my senior year.
As for Choir, I was disappointed in the musical the teacher chose to do. It was "No, No Nanette." It was okay, but not as much fun to do as "The Music Man" or "Bye Bye Birdie." This was my senior year and I should have gotten one of the three male lead roles. I got stuck in the chorus. My heart really wasn't into doing my best for that show.
I know how all this looks, like I'm some prima donna who thinks he better because he's a senior in high school. I really felt like I was entitled to those perks after spending all those years waiting for the other upperclassmen to leave so I could have my moment to shine. However, the underclassmen took the spotlight away from me without even trying.
And then, no girlfriend. I had one prospect for a girlfriend late the previous year. She was in the ninth grade at the time and I met her while she was in the Artesia Arts Council's production of "Annie Get Your Gun." She actually seemed interested in me, and she was smart and talented. I thought I would be able to get to know her over the summer, but she took off to be a part of the "Young Americans" performance group FOR THE ENTIRE BREAK! When she came to high school the next year, she was dating one of the football players in her class.
In the end, I guess I'm glad I had such a lousy senior year. It gave me little to look back on as I moved toward my future. It kept me from re-living glory days, Springsteen-style, because I really didn't have any. I would just continue my quest for good times. Sometimes, I would find a few.
In my upcoming breakdown of my classes, you'll also get to see how my discontent led to many unethical dilemmas. It got really bad.
From everything I had ever seen and read about being a teenager, this was supposed to be the best year of my life. Unfortunately, there were too many obstacles that kept me from enjoying my youth. One job was great, but two jobs was too much and it didn't help that I hated my second job.
The whole year, I just didn't want anything to do with anyone. I figured that if I felt like I wasn't missing out on anything, then it wouldn't really matter if I did. I almost felt worse than I did the previous year in which I considered suicide, but my entire attitude really showed it on the outside.
Things were so bad, I wouldn't even listen to music on the radio. I had almost no clue what the most popular songs of my senior year were because I was just so into my own music. When I worked at a radio station two years after graduating high school, I was surprised at the songs from that period that were big hits.
I can say that I learned how to deal with so many consecutive disappointments that year. The first one was the Drama Club. The last two years, we produced seven plays each year and performed them publicly. (Most of those plays were one acts that were one-shot performances, like at the Festival at Eastern New Mexico University and various events around town.) We did two main-stage productions and the children's play for the schools. Before my junior year ended, my Drama teacher told me we were going to do "You Can't Take It with You" by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart. I was really looking forward to acting in that in my senior year. That play has a lot of great roles in it.
However, when I saw my teacher over the summer, she said, "Oh, I found this really funny play for us to do." It wasn't "YCTIWY." It was some other play that was a parody of TV show detectives. It sucked so much, I'm not even going mention the title of it here. And then, she told me that the only other main stage production we were going to do that year was our children's show. I WAS FURIOUS! On top of this, I didn't even get the lead role in either one of the plays!
In January, we started practicing our one act play for the Festival at ENMU. I wanted to be recognized for my acting ability and win an award. The one act play she picked (I can't remember the name) was decent, but wasn't a good fit for our acting skills. It was more of an ensemble piece, and while I didn't have the lead role, I was sort of playing the leader of the group in the drama. I was trying like the dickens to give an outstanding performance, but I wasn't backed up by the rest of the cast. We were all rather bewildered by the choice of play as it was very dark and brooding. In the middle of rehearsals, the teacher was sick for a couple of weeks. We continued to rehearse, but the substitute had no idea how to direct. (Actually, our Drama teacher didn't know how to direct, either, but at least she knew what we were supposed to do on stage.) After she came back, we ran through a rehearsal of the play. When we finished, the teacher decided we would go to Festival, but we wouldn't be putting on the play. DANG IT!
I guess that the Drama department's budget had been slashed, so there wasn't enough money to mount another production that year, and one of the areas in which we probably had to cut was in paying royalty fees. She likely had to pick something that could be really done on the cheap. However, she never explained this. As I've mentioned before, the Drama class and club disappeared the next year, so I guess I should consider myself lucky that they didn't do away with it my senior year.
As for Choir, I was disappointed in the musical the teacher chose to do. It was "No, No Nanette." It was okay, but not as much fun to do as "The Music Man" or "Bye Bye Birdie." This was my senior year and I should have gotten one of the three male lead roles. I got stuck in the chorus. My heart really wasn't into doing my best for that show.
I know how all this looks, like I'm some prima donna who thinks he better because he's a senior in high school. I really felt like I was entitled to those perks after spending all those years waiting for the other upperclassmen to leave so I could have my moment to shine. However, the underclassmen took the spotlight away from me without even trying.
And then, no girlfriend. I had one prospect for a girlfriend late the previous year. She was in the ninth grade at the time and I met her while she was in the Artesia Arts Council's production of "Annie Get Your Gun." She actually seemed interested in me, and she was smart and talented. I thought I would be able to get to know her over the summer, but she took off to be a part of the "Young Americans" performance group FOR THE ENTIRE BREAK! When she came to high school the next year, she was dating one of the football players in her class.
In the end, I guess I'm glad I had such a lousy senior year. It gave me little to look back on as I moved toward my future. It kept me from re-living glory days, Springsteen-style, because I really didn't have any. I would just continue my quest for good times. Sometimes, I would find a few.
In my upcoming breakdown of my classes, you'll also get to see how my discontent led to many unethical dilemmas. It got really bad.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
A little bathroom humor, very little
Have you ever opened a door expecting to find what you were looking for to be right in front of you?
It only took one more second for me to find the bathroom.
It only took one more second for me to find the bathroom.
I am forgotten
When I was young, I liked to think of myself as a pretty memorable person. I thought everyone was so dazzled by my personality that they couldn't possibly ever forget me. I found out how untrue this was a couple of months before I turned 17.
I went to Santa Fe with a small group of other students from choir. We were going to see "The Barber of Seville" performed at the Santa Fe Opera. When we were waiting to be seated, one of the chaparones started talking to this woman I recognized.
The woman was the mother of one of my classmates from when I went to Hermosa Elementary. His name was Tid. I don't remember when I first met him, but I remember his mother coming to our class in the third grade. She was from France, and she was very distinctive looking. I remembered seeing her among the guests of the second wedding I was involved in. Out of the 200 or so people there, she really stood out.
I wasn't really that good a friend of Tid. He had a little bit of bully in him, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, so we still hung out together somewhat. After I went to Central Elementary in the fifth grade, I figured I would run into him again in the sixth grade at Zia Intermediate. But I never saw him in school again. In fact, I couldn't even recall seeing him the first two days of fifth grade when I was still at Hermosa, so I don't know when he and his family moved away. I just know it was sometime before the Fall 1975 semester.
So it had been seven years since I saw him when I went to the Santa Fe Opera. When the chaparone had finished talking with his mother, I asked her if Tid was around. She pointed him out among these three people who were nearby. I went up and called out his name. He turned around. He had grown quite tall. I would not have recognized him as the person I went to school with. I also remember he was wearing a pancho at the time.
I re-introduced myself. "Hi, Tid! I'm Fayd Ogolon. I went to school with you in Artesia." He looked at me for a moment with a confused look on his face. He then started thinking, and said, "Oh, yeah! Mr. Ogolon's son."
I couldn't believe this. He remembered my father more than he remembered me. This absolutely shattered my self-image of being the most unforgettable person on the planet.
Tid and I caught up a little bit. At some point during the last seven years, he had been left back in school. He was just going into his junior year as I was going into my senior year. He didn't elaborate on what had happened that caused that. It did surprise me, because I never thought of him as one of the students who would be most likely to have to do a grade over. (Trust me, there were plenty of candidates for that.)
But I was still rather taken aback by the fact he didn't really remember me. As I mentioned before, I ran into my Boys State roommate later my senior year. He didn't recognize me after only six months, and we spent a whole week together with him in the upper bunk.
Every time this would happen in the future, I would get a little upset, because I feel like I put some effort into remembering people. It kind of angers me that others I meet don't put in the same amount of work in trying to keep me inside their memories for the rest of their lives.
So, I have gotten mildly used to this. Just last week, Ms. Ogolon and I went to the wedding of one of her best friends from high school. We had met her fiance at our son's 1st birthday party. We had arrived early for the ceremony at the beach. When we saw how we were supposed to park our car there, I went up to re-park it. The groom had arrived at that time and was right outside my car. I recognized him. But when he saw me, he looked like he recognized me, but couldn't recall where we had met. I told him I was the husband of his fiancee's friend and we had met at Boyd's birthday party. Then he had full recall. I can't really blame him. He had a lot on his mind that day.
Sometimes, it would be nice if I was just able to forget certain people in my past. But then, I wouldn't have much to write about.
I went to Santa Fe with a small group of other students from choir. We were going to see "The Barber of Seville" performed at the Santa Fe Opera. When we were waiting to be seated, one of the chaparones started talking to this woman I recognized.
The woman was the mother of one of my classmates from when I went to Hermosa Elementary. His name was Tid. I don't remember when I first met him, but I remember his mother coming to our class in the third grade. She was from France, and she was very distinctive looking. I remembered seeing her among the guests of the second wedding I was involved in. Out of the 200 or so people there, she really stood out.
I wasn't really that good a friend of Tid. He had a little bit of bully in him, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, so we still hung out together somewhat. After I went to Central Elementary in the fifth grade, I figured I would run into him again in the sixth grade at Zia Intermediate. But I never saw him in school again. In fact, I couldn't even recall seeing him the first two days of fifth grade when I was still at Hermosa, so I don't know when he and his family moved away. I just know it was sometime before the Fall 1975 semester.
So it had been seven years since I saw him when I went to the Santa Fe Opera. When the chaparone had finished talking with his mother, I asked her if Tid was around. She pointed him out among these three people who were nearby. I went up and called out his name. He turned around. He had grown quite tall. I would not have recognized him as the person I went to school with. I also remember he was wearing a pancho at the time.
I re-introduced myself. "Hi, Tid! I'm Fayd Ogolon. I went to school with you in Artesia." He looked at me for a moment with a confused look on his face. He then started thinking, and said, "Oh, yeah! Mr. Ogolon's son."
I couldn't believe this. He remembered my father more than he remembered me. This absolutely shattered my self-image of being the most unforgettable person on the planet.
Tid and I caught up a little bit. At some point during the last seven years, he had been left back in school. He was just going into his junior year as I was going into my senior year. He didn't elaborate on what had happened that caused that. It did surprise me, because I never thought of him as one of the students who would be most likely to have to do a grade over. (Trust me, there were plenty of candidates for that.)
But I was still rather taken aback by the fact he didn't really remember me. As I mentioned before, I ran into my Boys State roommate later my senior year. He didn't recognize me after only six months, and we spent a whole week together with him in the upper bunk.
Every time this would happen in the future, I would get a little upset, because I feel like I put some effort into remembering people. It kind of angers me that others I meet don't put in the same amount of work in trying to keep me inside their memories for the rest of their lives.
So, I have gotten mildly used to this. Just last week, Ms. Ogolon and I went to the wedding of one of her best friends from high school. We had met her fiance at our son's 1st birthday party. We had arrived early for the ceremony at the beach. When we saw how we were supposed to park our car there, I went up to re-park it. The groom had arrived at that time and was right outside my car. I recognized him. But when he saw me, he looked like he recognized me, but couldn't recall where we had met. I told him I was the husband of his fiancee's friend and we had met at Boyd's birthday party. Then he had full recall. I can't really blame him. He had a lot on his mind that day.
Sometimes, it would be nice if I was just able to forget certain people in my past. But then, I wouldn't have much to write about.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
White bread world
I've mentioned how I was a real picky eater when I was a kid.
I won't even be tricked by honey whole wheat. Making it sweet does not make it better.
I won't even be tricked by honey whole wheat. Making it sweet does not make it better.
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