I WAS SITTING INTHE WAITING ROOM FOR MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH A NEWDENTIST.I NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA ON THE WALL, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME.
SUDDENLY, I REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY WITH THE SAME NAMEHAD BEEN IN MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME 30-ODD YEARS AGO.
COULD HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON, WAY BACKTHEN?UPON SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCHTHOUGHT: THIS BALDING, GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS WAY TOO OLD TO HAVE BEEN MY CLASSMATE.AFTER HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDEDMORGAN PARK HIGH SCHOOL .'YES. YES, I DID. I'M A MUSTANG,' HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.WHEN DID YOU GRADUATE?' I ASKED.HE ANSWERED, "IN 1975. WHY DO YOU ASK?'YOU WERE IN MY CLASS!', I EXCLAIMED.HE LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY.THEN, THAT UGLY, OLD, BALD, WRINKLED FACED, GRAY-HAIRED,DECREPIT SOUL ASKED,'WHAT DID YOU TEACH??