LARGE WOMAN WITH PEARLS
I blogged about my teacher Mrs. Cyr a few posts ago, but I didn't have a picture of her. My mom's hope chest has come to the rescue, offering up a yellowing, cedar-scented photo of my second-grade class. Mrs. Cyr is the large woman with pearls.
The others are, back row, from left:
1. Sheryl: My on-and-off best friend through junior high, until she stole my boyfriend with a lewd act. She was famous for her boobs — which were not involved in the lewd act, unless it was lewder than I thought. She has a brood of kids now.
2. Me: In a green polyester outfit made by my mom. I have a brood of neuroses now.
3. Tim: The best athlete in school. He gave me a sixth-grade kiss behind Mrs. Chilton's garage that made my spine tingle. I had kissed other boys before, but this is when I understood what all the fuss was about. Later that year he called me a whore because I wouldn't go to second base. (I still think second base is overrated.) Don't know what became of him. Went to college for a few years. Married some girl.
4. Rod: Special Ed kid who was mean to girls. No idea where he is.
5. Scott: I kissed him in junior high; still remember the pizza in his braces. Went out with him a few times in high school. Nicest guy in the world, but big drinking problem. One night he drank seven shots of tequila and I had to drive him home. First I had to go get my 21-year-old brother, whom I found in my dad's basement having sex with a married house-guest of my parents. My brother threw on some pants and helped me drive Scott home. Scott called me at 4 a.m., crying, and asked if I would marry him. He joined the army and died in a drunken car wreck at 22.
6. Kevin: Math dork. Went to KU. That's all I know.
7. Robert: Quiet, never bothered anyone, last person you'd expect. Lost track of him after seventh grade.
8. Chris: She was my neighbor. Lived in a giant Victorian house on the corner and was utterly unsupervised. Her parents lived together but never spoke. They would communicate through Chris when absolutely necessary. Her sister had Playgirl centerfolds taped all over her bedroom walls; first time I saw a naked man. We played Foreigner and Journey at top volume in her living room after school. She's a very successful realtor now.
9. Curtis: Smart aleck. No idea where he is.
Front row, from left:
1. Develan: Squeaky voice. Whole family looked Scandinavian. Mysterious parents. No apparent interest in girls. No clue where he is.
2. Mike: My boyfriend from fourth grade all through junior high. Listened to KISS records together. Went to second base, but not third — NO WAY. Talked for hours on the phone. Lost him after Sheryl performed her lewd act and he discovered how boring I was by comparison. He's an accountant now or some sort of finance guy. Married a girl named Carmen.
3. Charlee: Popular with the fellas, if you catch my drift. Dropped out of school. Married young. Kids.
4. Debbie: Kind of bossy. Spilled a pot of coffee on her arm and had a huge scar. When I was talking, perhaps a little too exuberantly, about a favorite teacher, she reminded me in harsh, judgmental tones that it was a woman I was talking about. I hushed — and learned a very valuable lesson. No idea where she is.
5. Denise: Fundamentalist Christian. Moved away the next year.
6. Mike: Dumped me mid-date because I wouldn't go to second base. Said Brenda would. (Turned out Brenda wanted to go to second base with me, not Mike). My sister lost her virginity to his brother. He's a blue-collar guy, divorced, with kids.
7. Shawn: Pathological liar. Said stuff like he had giraffes in the woods behind his house and his grandma weighed 770 pounds (I suppose the latter could have been true). Moved away before high school.
8. Gary: Bright red hair. Told my mom on a field trip once that I was "mean," but offered no supporting evidence. Called me out of the blue in college to see whether I wanted to go out. Told him I was living with my boyfriend of three years (who later became my husband). No clue where he is.
9. Patty: Girl with bowel-control problem. Whom all the kids terrorized and Mrs. Cyr lovingly protected. No idea what happened to her after sixth grade.
10. Willy: Very, very silly. Now owns a dairy that makes the best chocolate milk on Earth.
posted by kc @ 10:49 AM
17 comments
17 Comments:
I'm amazed how you can remember everyone. I have a hard enough time remembering my teachers.
That is amazing, I agree.
I also notice that, unlike Erin Gough the Dog, young Kim was kissing practically ALL the boys.
Jesus, you got a lot of action.
Really, you guys could not identify the people in your second-grade class? Honestly?
Yes, Erin, I kissed a lot of boys, but none of it, alas, was True Fuckin' Love.
cl, I got some action, I guess, but not a lot of repeat business, on account of my prudery.
By the way, second base is boobs, right? Someone was trying to tell me that second was something more risque.
I might be able to identify them, but I certainly couldn't offer interesting commentary about their personalities.
In my book, second base is boobs.
I could identify a few, but most I'd have no clue who they were.
Of course, right after second grade is when we moved to South Korea.
Erin, you have a book?
Fascinating -- to see a cute little 7 or 8 year old and then read about what became of all that potential. I moved out of state after second grade, so I wouldn't be able to follow up on anybody, much less identify.
And, as all the girls have said, you got a ton of action. I was, I think, 17 before my first kiss. And you were making out right and left in junior high! I am so jealous. You must have been one of the popular kids.
You think that was a ton of action?
You should see the action I'm getting now.
That last was a joke, in case anyone was about to be jealous and/or impressed.
Very clever of you to breed neuroses instead of kids. First, you won’t ever have to send them to school, and second, if they become too much a bore, you can trade a few in and try a phobia kick for a change.
I don’t think I know a thing about anybody from second grade, and hardly anything about any of the kids from grade school.
What's the chocolate milk?
God, DW, wouldn't it be awful if your kids were a bore? Like if they were uninteresting lumps with no sense of adventure — like what if they didn't like fresh peas or Jane Austen or climbing rocks in Yosemite or red wine or staying up all night? What would you do with them?
Why don't you remember anyone from grade school? No one memorable?
Oooh, the chocolate milk is from Newhouse Dairy. They sell it at the Merc and at Hy-Vee — in old-fashioned glass bottles. Come over Sunday and we'll have some. (I also have a book for you called "Nature Noir" about a very literate park ranger who worked in the Sierra. It's good.)
Yes, our culture seems to take a dim view of selling kids off into slave labor and the like. So it would be grim to realize that you were stuck with offspring who are exactly the kind of people you avoid at parties. Such are the risks of reproduction.
So, queen of cocktails, what amazing drink have you concocted out of this famous chocolate milk? I’m game to try it.
I bet it would make an awesome Brandy Alexander. But we could call it a Brandy Willy. Or a Willy Alexander.
Willy Alexander it is, then.
I want one.
I would like to comment on the picture itself. Wow. Something about a weird gray wall and all that pattern everywhere else. And the shoes! They left the shoes in the frame. All those little feet competeing for attention with even smaller eyes. This photo is AMAZING. (I had no trouble picking you out.) My only other comment is that I feel I have no place making a comment. Now I can't decide whether to publish. Perhaps I will preview first. Maybe I should be anonymous. Oh, I am crummy old Ackley!
I can't believe I found this site. I met Hildred a few weeks ago at a rest home in Coupeville, WA and I was totally impressed. She still wears buttons from the 70's and 60's and is still a feminist 100% and for all the liberal causes. She also has a great sense of humor and is sharp as a tack, though is incapacitated from a broken hip. They stick a pillow between her legs to keep her from chaffing and she calls it her "phallus" and loves telling the nurses her phallus fell out. She also told the exercise group that it is not true she had nothing on when the director came to her room. She had the radio on. If you knew her now you would really love her. Her address is Hildred Cyr
311 NE 3rd street, Coupeville, WA 98239
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