While I'm going to forever insist that the following story comes as a result of the concussion, I fear that in reality a bit of my blonde-ness reared it's ugly head.
Matthew's chemistry teacher for this trimester was my high school chemistry teacher. He was also my swim coach for about three days; it was too cold..I gave up. Since my friends were on the team though, I was a regular fixture at the pool and at all of the meets. Anyhow, Mr. B. taught me, he taught John during his freshman year and now he's teaching Matthew. He still remembers me and today he said to Matthew, "If you ever want to hear some great stories about your Mom when she was a girl, just let me know!" Oh dear.
All I can really do to get back at him is to show Matthew pictures of Jeff (Mr. B) from my high school yearbooks. When we arrived home from school, I dug them out and showed Matthew all of the pictures that I could find; he laughed appropriately and then went inside.
As I was flipping through the pages, remembering old faces, I looked myself up in the index. You know, to see which pages I was on. Oddly, I didn't see my name on the list. "Wait. That can't be right, I must have missed myself." I looked again; no luck. "Sheesh, I know that I'm in here. Why the heck don't they have me listed? I'd better slow down and look one more time."
"...Clark..."
"...Clements..."
"...Coast..."
"...Cox..."
"What the..? Oh...yeah...right. My last name wasn't Coffman back then."
2 comments:
Delightful.
By my calculations, it won't be long until you'll have been a Coffman longer than you were a Reed.
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