I Finally Spoke to S...

She was gorgeous. Black hair, black eyes, white skin, oval face.
She was my classmate in grammar school and high school.
All her classmates were in awe.

Teachers hated her.
They were -- it was so obvious! -- envious. These old, dried-up, sex-starved prunes.

They picked on poor S.
They sometimes made her cry with their criticisms -- if a paper of her was a little messy, for example.
I can see now -- 60 years later -- how pleased Miss H. was when little S. began to cry.

I never spoke to S. in grammar school or high school in West New York, N.J.

I spoke to her for the first time maybe 15 years ago. I gave a talk about real estate; she was in the audience.

We chatted.

S, I said to her, you may not know this, but in grammar school the teachers were so envious of you, of your beauty, that they picked on you. They even made you cry.


And S. said...

It happened to me not only in grammar sschool, but in high school.

And it's happening to my daughter now.