Honor Society

It's truly a fascinating aspect of neurophysiology that memories from 30 years ago are clearer than events of last week. At least they are for me.

Maybe it was the candle lighting ceremony, but I have a clear recollection of standing in the MacArthur High auditorium, being inducted into the National Honor society, in March of 1978. I was a junior then, and my parents were there, beaming. A bunch of my stoner friends went too, since they figured they'd never actually be invited to such a scholastic club.

I remember my parents took us all to Friendly's for ice cream. I'm pretty certain my father, as sharp as he was, had no clue that my friend Mark had taken LSD, and Gerry and Mike were high on pot. The few times they giggled inappropriately, I shot them icy stares, and they came back to reality.

Well, tonight D2 provided Wifey and me with the same joy. She was inducted into NHS, along with the lighting of the candles.

D2's friend Jason was there, with his long, curly blonde hair. Wifey, having seen pictures of me in high school, exclaimed: "Look --he has a Jew-fro, just like you did." Jason's a sweet kid, and always looks to me like he's been smoking mother nature all day. D2 tells me that no --he just has that air about him. Hmm.....

So, thirty years have come and gone. Back in March of 1978, although my parents were older, I couldn't have imagined in my worst nightmare that my father would die just over four years later. I had a vague idea that I wanted to be a physician, and now I just defend them, in court, for free.

The stoner friends? Mark, who was a Peter Frampton look-alike, is bald, chunky, and a computer something or other. Gerry, last I heard, lives at home with his mother, in the same Long Island house, working very little. Mike was a printer, but hurt his back, and is living off the considerable fat of the generous New York State Workers Compensation Board --going fishing in Great South Bay every day.

I remember being told by the leisure suited principal to blow out the candles before we recessed --no doubt after some future scholar burnt down a school auditorium somewhere.

The candle was rekindled tonight. The memory was sweet.