A Lot Less Interesting
March 16th, 2011 . by CaryBushings replaced, one bearing redone, and the steering on the Road Rhino is no longer as questionable as Obama’s birthplace.
Rabbit trail time … as I was writing the title of this post, I remembered an English teacher in ninth grade, at Greenhills High School, had us keep writing journals. I have no idea where mine ended up. I do remember that on the first page, on the first line, we had to make this entry:
a______________________________________________________lot
to help us remember that they are, in fact, two separate and distinct words. I cannot, for the life of me, remember the name of that teacher. She was a very good teacher, and it was my loss when the family moved from Greenhills to Palestine, Ohio, at least it appeared to be a loss at first. I had a couple of good Enlgish teachers at Tri-Village, the one I can remember is Greg Senf, who was also the drama coach. (surprise! i was in some plays in high school!) I also distinctly remember the art teacher, Dave Brown, and the science teacher, Lowell Storer. The summer after my junior year, I earned some money by painting houses with Dave Brown, and last I knew Lowell Storer was involved in a plane wreck and stopped teaching. Shame, really – he had an interesting style, and one that I was comfortable with. The summer after I graduated, I moved to Arizona. Greg Senf hitched a ride as far as Boulder, Colorado. I haven’t heard of him since. Interesting trip – I was driving my older brother’s F150, which he had left at the farm, loaded up with all kinds of stuff from the house. My two younger brothers went with me, and we ended up staying at LeaAnn and Mel’s house in Mountainaire. Dave drove down from Monterey (where he was stationed, and where I ended up for a while also) with some of his Army buddies to pick up the truck. Mom and Dad moved out, and took over the renting of the house that LeaAnn and Mel were in when Mel built a duplex just off NAU’s campus and moved into half of it. My brothers and I helped Mel that summer in his contracting business, and then on September 24th, 1980, I shipped out to boot camp in San Diego.
OK – enough remembering. It’s bedtime for this bonzo.
Chat ya later…
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