Can you stand more memories?

I remember the day the Challenger exploded. I was in 4th grade. Most of the school crowded into the cafeteria where there was a small black and white television. It was very quiet in there. They played it over and over. It was awful. I think we were just old enough to realize what had happened. I remember doing a report on Christa McAuliffe soon after, Teacher in Space.

I remember our teacher then, Mrs. Tocho. She was tough. But she taught us how to study. She kept a small tin of peppermints on her desk. If you had a sore throat, she'd give you one. If you feigned a cough, she'd give you one. She also handed out these really long, hard study guides with 75+ questions. We'd read all about ancient Mesopotamia and then have to do the study guides in our black and white composition books.

I remember struggling with Latin in 8th grade. Everyone else got it except for me. I copied Allison's homework a few times, nearly crying with shame. Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant. Mrs. Troxclair recommended that I get a tutor. Amazingly, I met with said tutor once, and it was like everything clicked. All of a sudden I was conjugating verbs and declining nouns with ease. Whew.

I remember having a string of French teachers in high school. I'm not sure why Ecole couldn't keep one. Maybe we scared them off? I still remember memorizing dialogues for Mrs. Barr (was that her name?). "Ou sont les jeunes filles en chapeaux? Elles ont a la plage." We had to sit in alphabetical order, so I always sat behind Kim and then Riley sat behind me. We had to choose French names for ourselves from a dinky list in our textbooks. I chose "Chantal." Snort.

I remember having to memorize that speech from Julius Caesar for Ms. Foley. We each took turns going up to her desk to quietly repeat it to her. I think it was around 187 lines, beginning with, "Friends, Romans, countrymen: lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." I remember being very anxious on that day, but I did it. I stopped here and there and drew a blank. Ms. Foley told me to just relax and wait a minute, and assured me it would come. She was right. I amazed myself.

I remember doing this stupid "red book" in sophomore writing. It was a workbook all about improving one's writing with phrases like, "in addition to," "above all," "not only....but also," and words like "nevertheless," "however," and "moreover." It also involved writing and re-writing extensive paragraphs with no mistakes. Back then it was frustrating and stupid. In retrospect I think it was a brilliant thing.

I remember dissecting worms, frogs, and something else---mice, maybe? in Biology class. We had metal trays with cushioning inside that you could use pins with to secure the subject to. The smell was awful. I thought about being one of those students that refused to harm animals, but in the end I was much too curious and interested about seeing the organs and insides.

I remember loathing P.E. I wasn't decent at any sports except for volleyball. And no one dared use the showers afterwards--no doors and very dirty/gross. So we just poured on the deodorant after class. Some of the girls even used Right Guard. The thought of all that aerosol still makes me shudder.

I remember realizing my freshman year that now that I was in high school, I could go to the Homecoming Dance. Only I didn't have a date. I stayed home. When I was a sophomore I really really wanted to go. So I asked the first guy I ever kissed, Scott. I can't believe I had the balls to call him after not talking to him in years. He agreed to go with me. I picked out a black dress with a giant bow along the top that had polka dots. I was very excited. I even got David L. to go with my best friend, Laura. So we doubled. It was an uneventful night. Laura got to spend the night at my house afterwards.

I remember the next morning. My mom made her usual Sunday breakfast: homemade biscuits, fried eggs, bacon, and grapefruit. Honey, butter, and preserves for the biscuits. Coffee for my parents, milk for me, Laura, and my brothers. After we stuffed ourselves, Laura's mom came to pick her up. I remember being upstairs making my bed when my parents called us back down for a "family meeting." Mark and I joked with each other on our way downstairs. "You'd better start pulling your weight around here. Take out the trash!" I jabbed at him with my elbow.

I remember going into the living room and hitting a wall of angst. My mom was sitting there crying and my dad was pacing. I remember wondering what was going on and immediately banishing the idea of more chores from my head. This wasn't going to be your average family meeting.

I remember my dad looking at a legal pad he held in his hand. Usually he reserved those for work, but clearly this was more serious than I thought.

I remember the first things my dad said. He said, "This is about honesty, integrity, respect, and my love for all of you." And then I remember he said, "Your mother and I are getting a divorce. Your father is a homosexual." I remember wondering why he was speaking about himself in the third person. It sounded so strange, like he was talking about someone other than himself. Maybe he wanted it to be about someone else.

I remember the words were thin and airy and they floated up to the ceiling. I instantly left myself. All I wanted was for the speech to be over. I remember as he was wrapping it up I asked if I could be excused. As I left the room, I remember hearing my younger brother, Kevin (who was 9 at the time), start asking a string of silly questions. I bolted upstairs.

I remember calling my best friend, Michelle. She was at a soccer tournament. I called Laura, but she had just left my house and wasn't home yet. I was crying so much I couldn't see the numbers on the phone. Finally someone answered me. Joe. I think I blurted out, "My parents are getting divorced." He suggested we meet at Metairie Playground and do homework. I didn't do any homework. I copied Joe's homework.

I remember it was a cold November day. I couldn't stop crying or shivering. I remember Joe was very patient with me and offered hugs and some wrinkled up handkerchiefs from his pocket. I didn't say much. I just needed someone to be there with me, for me. He may have saved me.