Roscoe The Booger Eater

The Old Man always feels a little tug toward school this time of year. A round of various reunions has added leavening to the loaf. As a result, reflective time has produced memories of some colorful characters from my school days. A caveat here; in an effort to maintain some degree of sensitivity, all names in this post are fictitious. I've not used any one's real name or even a version of it. The descriptions, however, are real and true.

During assumed boring stretches in our classroom, Roscoe's intense curiosity about the hidden secrets in his body would overwhelm him, and he would begin "mining"; first one nostril and then the other. Sometimes he would peer studiously at the adornment perched atop his index finger, examining it from all angles. Other times he would go straight for his snack. Upon completion, he would gaze toward the ceiling and sort of rock his head slightly back and forth like a wine taster. I think he probably had categories and it was important to fully evaluate his little gems. I don't know if Roscoe ever moved past his habit, but as a precaution, I hope his wife doesn't use the remote.

Freddie the Fainter brought a degree of excitement to our classroom. Freddie would begin to feel faint at the first mention of blood. The teacher would mention that sap in a tree was much like the blood in our bodies, and we would all turn toward Freddie just to watch the color drain out of his face. His head would go down on his desk and the teacher would send someone out for a cup of water for him. Health class was Freddie's own private version of Hell. Teacher would say, "Today we're going to look at the circulatory system....turn to page 16 in your books". Next we would hear "thud". Freddie was down for the count. Another cup of water. Freddie spent more time with his head between his knees than a Chinese acrobat.

And of course, there was Sturdly the Stinker. Sturdly had what must have been the most bizarre intestinal arrangement known to medicine. We'd be eating lunch and Sturdly would create beautiful "methane melodies" on demand as he ate. In perfect waltz time, it was 'bite-swallow...braaaak', 'bite-swallow....braaaak'. This would continue until he had finished his lunch, or cleared the table, whichever came first.

I've not seen any of these folks for many years. And to all who were in attendance at the recent reunion, rest assured the ones mentioned here were none of you. But I remember them with the same fondness and with the same smiles as I do you all.