School Story:
Freshman Year: stealing apples on the way back to school from freshman soccer practice... everybody stole them, but Kenny Flynn, Billy O'Day (I think), and I were the only ones stupid enough to confess. Freshman Basketball: Mike Flanagan, me, and at least one or two others doing the BenchBuddy Shuffle. If Coach Scofield says to run Play "4" again, I'll scream. Play "4" was Dalrymple starts with the ball, everyone clears out, Dalrymple takes it to the hole. How's that for team chemistry!
Good times.
Sophomore Year: JV Basketball: Pat Toughey. "You guys friggin' suck." Hey Toughey, twenty-two years later: no, *you* suck. You've never seen me play ball at the LC. Mike Flanagan telling me to shave my neck. Thanks, Mike, for the words of wisdom. The same guy who would later drive home from Antioch and try to run over cats.
Junior Year: Ms. Palkevich, Chemistry, still haunts my dreams. Ms. Liebman, Modern Algebra II, ditto. Mrs. Meys otoh: as good as it gets. Tim Coleman's VP-clinching speech. Courtney Ferderber impersonating Emperor Hirohito and interviewing himself in Mr. Smith's Sociology class, or Psych class, or something like that. Courtney Ferderber, you have gotta be the funniest SOB to walk the planet. Ecumenical Retreat with Pastor Rudy Sheptock (now a DJ at the Jersey Shore, true story). Bumming quarters off of Maura Fairty.
Senior Year: working on the Devil's Advocate with Christy, Randy, and Thomasin. Learning a little bit about how to write from Dr. Crossett (he had a great deal to teach, but I was only smart enough to learn a little.) Learning absolutely nothing about drawing or painting in the drawing/painting class with the really scarily quiet teacher guy. Man there were alot of cute girls in that drawing/painting class. And boy did I suck at drawing/painting. My suckdom knew no bounds.
Singing "Doc P Doc P" to Dr. Pennella to the tune of New York New York at his goodbye dinner. Up the Down Staircase. Choir. St. Patrick's Day Parade marching with Coleman in NYC. Deadly Viper Volleyball. Seeing the Grateful Dead with Whalen, Sullivan, and Weiner.
Pote terrorizing Sully with a deer head.
Sully's fascination with a fixins bar.
Camping (twice) with perhaps the least-outdoorsy people I have ever known. Particularly Chris Rusek.
And if we go back before high school, other memories: Alec Maly throwing things at his fifth grade teacher and then running out of class, such that Cedar Hill is put on the early-80s version of school lockdown.
Keith Prior's dead-on impressions of Mr. English:
"Keith, Shut the Mouth."
"Keith, zero?"
"Keith when I am talking you are not."
Kim Taylor kissing Scott Wood (?) in second grade at L.C. behind the big tree where we played kick ball.
Carol Lentz, Heather Clark and Christine Hallowell walking home from Annin but being too -I don't know what - to talk to me and Kalfus. For three years straight.
Mr. Jephson -- the Monster Math.
My favorite memories are the fist fights. You know, kids don't have fist fights anymore. I remember being terrorized by Pat Byrne, Dan Scrocco, Scott Arnold. These are the things that stick with you. I remember fighting JR Foster for dear life (frickin Nowak). Nearly killing - with a pillow - one of my life long best friends. Kids these days need more fist fights and less Wii I think.
Indeed, times like these were made for Taster's Choice.
