Friday, March 15, 2019

Slice of Life 2019-15 of 31: Even forty years ago...


Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!


Like many people, I took advantage of the 56 degree temperature that registered on my car and took my dog for an afternoon walk when I got home. Just as I don't like to hang out in people's blind spots on the highway, I like to either pass them or adjust my pace on my walk. Okie was making it a little tricky though, as the melting snow had all sorts of interesting smells for a young lab. Therefore, we stayed behind an older walker for a while. 

The man shuffled a little as he walked, but kept a decent pace. Something about his gait even made me think of my father. Somehow memories of him surface during March. Writing tends to do that. I entertained myself remembering some of the funnier memories with my dad. The sand castle contests, deep sea fishing, sneaking a cigarette together at a fraternity party (I still can't believe we did that!)...

As I walked along, at a slower-than-I wanted pace to appease the dog, I went through several thought essays and debates in my head. A few posts came to mind and were mentally drafted. But, as I approached the passing point of the man in front of me, I had moved on to thinking about high school English classes. (There was a reason for this line of thinking, but that's another post. In the meantime, this thought process would turn out to be sort of ironic. Read on--)

Finally, we got to the go-ahead-and-pass pace, and I shortened the leash, speeding both Okie and myself up a little bit. I took a sidelong glance at the man, and recognized him as my high school English teacher. (How weird is that!) I was sure it was Mr. S, even though he didn't respond at first when I said, "Mr. S.?"

"Mr. S.?" I said again. 

"Yes, yes," he responded. 

"You were my teacher at KO," I said. "I'm Melanie. Melanie Cavo." 

He feigned a response, and I wasn't surprised.

"It's been probably forty years since we've seen each other," he said.

I agreed, debating whether to walk faster or slow down and engage in a conversation. He seemed like he was gearing up to talk, telling me about his new hip, when he'd retired, where he'd finished his career. I decided I really preferred my silence, and let him know that I'd be maybe seeing him again some time at the reservoir. 

As I pulled away, he had one more question.

"How did you recognize me from behind?" he wanted to know. 

What? I couldn't think of anything clever to say quickly enough, so I just answered honestly. "I recognized you from the side and front."

I wonder what he would have said if I'd told him that even forty years ago, although he was inspiring and provocative, he was always just a little close to the edge of inappropriate. Some things really don't change. 


Happy Slicing,

8 comments:

  1. I’m retiring g at the end of the school year and have been thinking a lot about what that will mean as I grow older. Honestly, the last half of this story makes me incredibly sad, both for young you and for your old former teacher. I cringed. Maybe it’s just best for old people to be quiet and not burden those in the prime of life with *gasp* tales of hip replacements.

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    1. I'm so sorry that's your interpretation, Brenda! It's such a study of reader and writer, and how careful we as writers have to be of the words we choose and how we express them. My continuing of the walk was WAY more about me, my dog, my thoughts, and my sliver of time allotment before having to chauffeur a daughter. I could have included all that more!

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  2. I didn’t see the recognition of the man coming. I was lost in all of your thoughts- the mental drafting.

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  3. Fascinating to read not just your post but also the two reactions following. Those impact my reading and processing, too. I appreciate how you describe that tension in deciding whether to continue chatting or to keep it moving, acknowledging that we do actually decide finally, one way or the other.

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    1. Right?!?! Reading is such a relationship between writer and reader. While I am so, so sad for Brenda, I didn't mean to sound as impatient or unkind as I realize it could be interpreted. I even am considering going in and revising, although I don't think I will-- maybe that's another post!

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  4. I have not been reading your posts because you are posting at a different site. So glad that I saw your link this morning. I didn't expect the recognition, either. I like how you connected to memories of your father. I enjoyed taking the walk with you and wish we could do that in real time.

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  5. Aw- I didn't see that ending coming. So many layers in here.

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  6. I had you giving him a totally different reason ... loved the description of the dog. My dog is the same way -- I always say it is a walk not a smell! It was a great day for a walk.

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