![]() |
Click on the image to see the book |
Richard was dead. For forty years I had been planning to look him up and apologize for my reaction to something he had said as a joke. When I did eventually look for him, I discovered that he had died ten years after the incident and that shocked me and had me scratching about in the past: photographs, messages, and school yearbooks. Names and faces had my brain racing. Was I ever that young? Some names made me smile, some I remembered with displeasure, some I did not.
Thirty of us sat in a classroom forty years ago, and I don't recall one of them trying to contact me since then. I don't blame them. I am not an easy person to get along with. I am not one who would be remembered. I would call very few friends even though we spent five years in the same classroom. Still, I wondered what had become of them.