Jeffrey Field
I well remember that day, that hour, that minute. I was in Mrs. Rigberg's class when Mr. Doody (sorry... leetle joke there) broke the news. I remember the deafening silence, finally broken by a fellow student whose name I can't recall who blurted, "I'm glad he's dead." Now there was disbelieving silence. (I'm sure this student didn't mean what he said. No one spoke against him. We just sat in silence until Mrs. Rigberg took back the reins and kept us all safe.)
You may not remember me, but I remember most of you. I am a 1965 graduate because I failed 10th grade. I never did fit in with the rest of you. My best friend was Alan Charne, another misfit. I remember the fistfight he had with Johnny Winokur. I watched from my house (305 Lorimer Drive) as Alan threw the first punch, a roundhouse to Johnny's left cheek. (He lived directly across the street from me.) Johnny then proceeded to beat the crap out of Alan.
I ramble, yes? That's okay. I've seen a lot since then. And now, now, we have this great turmoil in our country. I wish you peace. More than that, I wish you laughter. Perhaps some of you will join me on Medium.com. Look for @farkleup. Or https://medium.com/@FarkleUp
Time to laugh... https://medium.com/@FarkleUp/people-everywhere-come-together-to-laugh-36d3a5ecb7cb#.ge129pmum
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