Busted

A Facebook friend from grade school found my diatribe about people friending after they had been mean to me. What struck me -- after the "omg, I've been found out" moment -- was that she talked about "sharing good times" with me.

I just don't remember good times related to grade school.

How pathetic is that. There must be some.

There was the time in Great Books when this guy hauled off and hit some girl in the stomach, but that was more weird than good.

I had a crush on my fifth-grade teacher, I guess. That's good, right? Of course she moved to San Francisco at midyear. I mailed her a little 49ers pennant, but she did not come back and pledge her undying love to me. Maybe she could be my sugar-mama now?

My brother and his friends let me play with them, so those were good times.

Have I have just blocked out the good times that involved grade school? I am meeting some of my former classmates for a reunion Friday. They can set me straight.

Oh, I remember one. We were at a class mass and the priest, during his homily smacked the Bible. Some kid muttered, you should treat the Bible better. The priest heard. That was funny.