Trying to remember the good old days
While waiting for my first appointment in the reception room of a new dentist, I noticed his
certificate, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I remembered that a tall, handsome boy
with the same name had been in my high school class some 40 years ago. Upon seeing him,
however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was too old to have been my classmate. After he had examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended the local high school.
“Yes,” he replied. “When did you graduate?” I asked.
He answered, “In 1944.”
“Why, you were in my class!” I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely and then asked, “What did you teach?”
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