Small things can trigger me into becoming preoccupied with certain music. Lately I’ve been listening to “Save Me, San Francisco,” the truly enjoyable comeback album by Train. It’s a very happy album, full of pop-driven rock songs about love, happiness, relationships, the city of San Francisco, and even marriage. And what is responsible for this most recent musical trigger, you might wonder? My sister. Who’s in San Francisco. Getting married.
Her first marriage? Well, obviously if it was a first marriage it didn’t work out. And when it ended so soon after our younger sister had died, it was a sad and painful time for us to get through. I was pretty concerned about it all, and even though I’m the younger brother I felt protective: “What do I do? What will she need me to do that she won’t even know she needs? How will this affect my relationships with my nephews?” I did what I could, as did so many of her friends and people in our family. I knew she’d survive it all when one day someone in the family locked the door from her house to the garage, when nobody was in the house or had a key. Her solution? Grab a power tool out of the garage and cut off the doorknob. She took on the problem pragmatically and just knocked it out of the way. I found reassurance in the metaphor.
When she told me she was seeing a new guy, I was immediately on guard. It seemed like a quick rebound after so many years of marriage. I first suspected it might be getting serious when she went to see Bruce Hornsby with this David guy instead of me. Not that I’m BITTER.... But he stuck around, and made a big impression on a lot of people all at once when he came to Thanksgiving dinner for the first time, which is one of the big, and I mean big, family events of the year. He turned out to be someone she could talk to and spend time with, share music and movies and TV with, and someone to drive all over the 5-state area with to see anything resembling a Hold Steady concert. He was someone who’d play enthusiastically with the boys, both outdoor catch and indoor video games, and someone they respected. I don’t know how much truth there is to the cliché of saying women tend to marry someone like their fathers, but she didn’t do that at all. Instead, I’m struck much more by how many similarities David would have shared with our younger sister. It’s a tragic missed opportunity they’ll never know each other because it would have been an epic friendship.
My sister’s house is one of my happy places. Her world is the bridge that connects me to the normalcy of suburban life absent from my own: The minivans, the homework battles, the football practices, the yard work, all of the things that would make my life so much more complicated than it is, and yet the things I sometimes regret not having myself. Her yard is where I will bury Spencer’s ashes, because she offered it as a resting place.
Nobody has my back like she does. Nobody, absolutely nobody on Earth, can make me laugh as hard as she can. And her happiness is far more important to me than my own would ever be.
The next time I see her she’ll be married. And once again, I can take peace in knowing that she’s happy.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Happy Birthday, Little Guy
Yes, today my boy Spencer would have turned 13.
I'm not making a big deal out of it; just didn't want it going unacknowledged.
I still miss him sometimes, but I gave him a very happy life. And when it was time to bring things to an end, I was able to do it exactly how I had hoped.
Happy birthday all the same, buddy.
I'm not making a big deal out of it; just didn't want it going unacknowledged.
I still miss him sometimes, but I gave him a very happy life. And when it was time to bring things to an end, I was able to do it exactly how I had hoped.
Happy birthday all the same, buddy.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Does This Make Me Socially Maladjusted?
I love weather in the 50s and 60s. I think of this as "Sweatshirts and Shorts" weather. In the autumn, I'll wear shorts until it's painful or foolish for me to do so, and I probably start wearing them in the spring earlier than what makes sense. In my defense, I'm surrounded by 11-year-olds who start wearing shorts WAY too early, so maybe I'm taking advantage of that misguided social cue as an excuse. And sweatshirts? Love 'em. Big, baggy, loose, comfortable, warm. Those select few weeks when I can get away with wearing both shorts and sweatshirts at the same time are golden.
One of my current favorites in the sweatshirt rotation is one my sister bought me last year. She was on vacation with her family, and during the trip took Nephew #1 on one of his first college visits to Northern Michigan University, which is where she got this sweatshirt. Nice and thick, very comfortable, a great fit. And it says "Northern Michigan University" in big yellow letters right on the front.
Do I have any allegiance to this school? No. I don't even have any allegiance to my own alma mater. Is Nephew #1 going to school there? Very small chance. But I still wear it because it's an awesome sweatshirt.
Now, this is not a well-known school for people two states away. And here's the thing: It seems people from Michigan are always surprised to see someone wearing NMU. And so very often, they feel the need to comment on it. "I love your sweatshirt," they say. "That's where I went!" they tell me. Blah blah Michigan blah. It makes me wonder, because if I saw a complete stranger wearing a shirt from my college, I wouldn't go up and engage them in discussion about it. Do these people realize exactly who they're trying to talk to?
Obviously not. So to entertain myself, I've started inventing back stories about my ties to NMU:
"Oh, yeah, my daughter goes there."
"Sure, I went there for two years before my raging alcoholism forced me to drop out."
"My uncle Charlie left me this after he died. It's all I have to remember him by."
"I've never been there, but my grandmother was on the Board of Regents for thirty years, and she always sends me a new one of these every year for Christmas."
"Oh, thanks! Yeah, I was just hired as a full professor in the criminal psychology department for fall semester 2011."
"I used this to sneak in to an audition for 'Non-Traditional Student College Jeopardy,' because you need to wear a sweatshirt from your school on the show, and I'm one of those geniuses with limited interpersonal communication skills who isn't able to thrive in a standard educational setting."
Now, I haven't actually used any of these. But it sure would be fun to try. Because any of these stories would be more interesting than, "Um, my sister gave it to me...."
One of my current favorites in the sweatshirt rotation is one my sister bought me last year. She was on vacation with her family, and during the trip took Nephew #1 on one of his first college visits to Northern Michigan University, which is where she got this sweatshirt. Nice and thick, very comfortable, a great fit. And it says "Northern Michigan University" in big yellow letters right on the front.
Do I have any allegiance to this school? No. I don't even have any allegiance to my own alma mater. Is Nephew #1 going to school there? Very small chance. But I still wear it because it's an awesome sweatshirt.
Now, this is not a well-known school for people two states away. And here's the thing: It seems people from Michigan are always surprised to see someone wearing NMU. And so very often, they feel the need to comment on it. "I love your sweatshirt," they say. "That's where I went!" they tell me. Blah blah Michigan blah. It makes me wonder, because if I saw a complete stranger wearing a shirt from my college, I wouldn't go up and engage them in discussion about it. Do these people realize exactly who they're trying to talk to?
Obviously not. So to entertain myself, I've started inventing back stories about my ties to NMU:
"Oh, yeah, my daughter goes there."
"Sure, I went there for two years before my raging alcoholism forced me to drop out."
"My uncle Charlie left me this after he died. It's all I have to remember him by."
"I've never been there, but my grandmother was on the Board of Regents for thirty years, and she always sends me a new one of these every year for Christmas."
"Oh, thanks! Yeah, I was just hired as a full professor in the criminal psychology department for fall semester 2011."
"I used this to sneak in to an audition for 'Non-Traditional Student College Jeopardy,' because you need to wear a sweatshirt from your school on the show, and I'm one of those geniuses with limited interpersonal communication skills who isn't able to thrive in a standard educational setting."
Now, I haven't actually used any of these. But it sure would be fun to try. Because any of these stories would be more interesting than, "Um, my sister gave it to me...."
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
You're Welcome, Mr. Trump
In my previous post, I offered the opinion it was hard to take Donald Trump seriously as a potential presidential candidate since he had not yet fired Gary Busey from Celebrity Apprentice, and how that misstep could be representative of flawed decision-making skills.
A week later, Gary Busey is fired. And suddenly the news is all over the story of how Trump, of all people, seems to be gaining ground in recent polling.
I think it's safe to say I've identified at least one of my anonymous blog followers.
A week later, Gary Busey is fired. And suddenly the news is all over the story of how Trump, of all people, seems to be gaining ground in recent polling.
I think it's safe to say I've identified at least one of my anonymous blog followers.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Brief Detour Into Politics
I know that writing anything political on a blog can be a divisive thing, but due to recent events I feel compelled to speak out.
I believe that anyone who wants to be seen as a legitimate candidate for President of the United States has to demonstrate sound decision-making skills.
Therefore, I don't feel Donald Trump's threats (or promises, depending on your opinion) of candidacy can be taken seriously.
Because Gary Busey is still on "Celebrity Apprentice." How has that dude not been fired yet?
I believe that anyone who wants to be seen as a legitimate candidate for President of the United States has to demonstrate sound decision-making skills.
Therefore, I don't feel Donald Trump's threats (or promises, depending on your opinion) of candidacy can be taken seriously.
Because Gary Busey is still on "Celebrity Apprentice." How has that dude not been fired yet?
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Internet is Weird
Occasionally I'll mention here how writing for my blog often feels like talking to myself, since I have no way of knowing exactly who, if anyone, ever reads what I'm writing. Sure, there are the Facebook links that will get occasional likes or comments, which is always nice, or someone in real life will make some reference to something I wrote here. But there's no way for me to know if the people making comments are the only ones who ever read any of this. At least, that's how it used to be.
It turns out that Blogger, the site I use to publish this, recently added a new tool that lets me track statistics. I can see a breakdown of how many page views any post has received in the past day, week, month, or all time -- though from what I can tell, their version of all time only includes the past year. I can see what particular dates saw the most traffic. I can see what links people followed to find the posts they are reading. I can see what browser or mobile device was used to access a post. And most perplexing of all? I can see what countries these page views originated from.
Now, being that I'm here in the US, you'd expect page views to come from the US as well. But if I go back to the past year, I see these numbers coming from these locations:
Canada - 27
Denmark - 23
Japan - 22
Guadeloupe - 19
South Africa - 10
Hungary - 8
Russia - 8
Slovenia - 7
Vietnam - 5
France - 4
Columbia - 1
India - 1
Iran - 1
Okay. WHAT?!
Costa Rica I could see. I have a friend teaching there right now. Afghanistan I could see, since I had a cousin stationed there for quite awhile. But those two aren't showing up.
Are there bots out there searching the blogs of the world looking for anything they can use for the next great telemarketing push? Is my word choice somehow touching on search keywords that are commonly used in Europe and Asia that I don't know about?
Or am I really just that big in Guadeloupe?
It turns out that Blogger, the site I use to publish this, recently added a new tool that lets me track statistics. I can see a breakdown of how many page views any post has received in the past day, week, month, or all time -- though from what I can tell, their version of all time only includes the past year. I can see what particular dates saw the most traffic. I can see what links people followed to find the posts they are reading. I can see what browser or mobile device was used to access a post. And most perplexing of all? I can see what countries these page views originated from.
Now, being that I'm here in the US, you'd expect page views to come from the US as well. But if I go back to the past year, I see these numbers coming from these locations:
Canada - 27
Denmark - 23
Japan - 22
Guadeloupe - 19
South Africa - 10
Hungary - 8
Russia - 8
Slovenia - 7
Vietnam - 5
France - 4
Columbia - 1
India - 1
Iran - 1
Okay. WHAT?!
Costa Rica I could see. I have a friend teaching there right now. Afghanistan I could see, since I had a cousin stationed there for quite awhile. But those two aren't showing up.
Are there bots out there searching the blogs of the world looking for anything they can use for the next great telemarketing push? Is my word choice somehow touching on search keywords that are commonly used in Europe and Asia that I don't know about?
Or am I really just that big in Guadeloupe?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
All for Nothing
So I went to the dentist tonight, following a typically long day at school. Nothing dramatic as far as dental appointments go, just a semi-annual cleaning. I get there right on time, as is my way, and after two minutes in the waiting room I'm escorted back to the chair.
As I settle back, I notice the soothing sounds of lite rock filling the office. And I spell it "lite" like that, because they've had WLTE playing at that office for as long as I can remember. Even if you don't live in the Cities, you have a station like this wherever you are: The Whitney Houston / Celine Dion ballads, the best-forgotten Billy Joel pop songs from the mid-seventies, and every woman who ever played an acoustic guitar and/or piano who sounds even a little bit like Carole King. You have this station. And I'm not saying that's bad. I'd rather have that stuff on in the dentist's office instead of something like The Offspring or Sum 41 by a mile.
But as I was listening, I heard a station break, and was surprised to learn I was actually listening to "The Bridge on Sirius FM Satellite Radio." Unexpected. And my immediate thought? "Why did they pony up the cash for satellite when they're only listening to a different version of the exact same station they were getting for free over the airwaves?! What would a year-long satellite subscription even cost, because they are totally throwing that money away."
Then it occurred to me: I'll bet anything that the bill for my root canal last summer would more than cover that subscription.
Somehow, I'm left feeling used.
As I settle back, I notice the soothing sounds of lite rock filling the office. And I spell it "lite" like that, because they've had WLTE playing at that office for as long as I can remember. Even if you don't live in the Cities, you have a station like this wherever you are: The Whitney Houston / Celine Dion ballads, the best-forgotten Billy Joel pop songs from the mid-seventies, and every woman who ever played an acoustic guitar and/or piano who sounds even a little bit like Carole King. You have this station. And I'm not saying that's bad. I'd rather have that stuff on in the dentist's office instead of something like The Offspring or Sum 41 by a mile.
But as I was listening, I heard a station break, and was surprised to learn I was actually listening to "The Bridge on Sirius FM Satellite Radio." Unexpected. And my immediate thought? "Why did they pony up the cash for satellite when they're only listening to a different version of the exact same station they were getting for free over the airwaves?! What would a year-long satellite subscription even cost, because they are totally throwing that money away."
Then it occurred to me: I'll bet anything that the bill for my root canal last summer would more than cover that subscription.
Somehow, I'm left feeling used.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Bring the Funny
Oddly, out of nowhere, and I literally mean out of nowhere, a writing project that has to potential to park some actual dollars in my pocket may be currently falling out of the sky with its sights targeted on my doormat. Really. This is a case of me sitting here doing nothing and one day, pow, I'm on the verge of being involved in something that I didn't even know existed two weeks ago. If only meeting interesting women worked the same way....
Anyway. The criteria?
(1) Are you familiar with children between the ages of 8-11? This being my nineteenth year in the elementary classroom, I'm going with a yes on this one.
(2) Have you ever written scripts before? I actually have. Two of them. In my freshman year of college, I entered a contest that I think was sponsored by some television production company -- I'd name it if I could remember -- for which I wrote a script for a half-hour sitcom they had on the air. National contest, and I made it to the final round, by the way, so, yay for me and all twenty-five years ago. There was also that little play I had produced back in the 90s, for anyone that was around all that time ago and knows the back story, or even had tickets.
(3) Can you bring the funny? Yeah, you know what? If you read the blog, I'll let you decide this one for yourself. You must be coming back for a reason, and it sure can't be because of my insightful social commentary.
The whole thing isn't locked just yet, and actually feels almost ephemeral popping out of nowhere like it has. So I'm not exactly excited about it. But it would be a professional writing gig, which is kind of cool to think about even if it doesn't go anywhere. But I know as well as anyone how easy it is to be on the verge of something kind of cool only to see it disappear.
Besides. It's April. Testing season and all. There are other things to lose sleep over....
Anyway. The criteria?
(1) Are you familiar with children between the ages of 8-11? This being my nineteenth year in the elementary classroom, I'm going with a yes on this one.
(2) Have you ever written scripts before? I actually have. Two of them. In my freshman year of college, I entered a contest that I think was sponsored by some television production company -- I'd name it if I could remember -- for which I wrote a script for a half-hour sitcom they had on the air. National contest, and I made it to the final round, by the way, so, yay for me and all twenty-five years ago. There was also that little play I had produced back in the 90s, for anyone that was around all that time ago and knows the back story, or even had tickets.
(3) Can you bring the funny? Yeah, you know what? If you read the blog, I'll let you decide this one for yourself. You must be coming back for a reason, and it sure can't be because of my insightful social commentary.
The whole thing isn't locked just yet, and actually feels almost ephemeral popping out of nowhere like it has. So I'm not exactly excited about it. But it would be a professional writing gig, which is kind of cool to think about even if it doesn't go anywhere. But I know as well as anyone how easy it is to be on the verge of something kind of cool only to see it disappear.
Besides. It's April. Testing season and all. There are other things to lose sleep over....
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Story of My Engagement
April Fools Day is almost too easy for me. First of all, I was a compulsive liar when I was a child so I've had a lot of practice in saying things that just aren't true. Second, I'm a writer, which means I'm pretty good at making things up on the spot and doing so with the right amount of detail to make whatever the story is seem believable. Third, I am able to maintain a straight face with such superhuman inscrutability that very few people have ever been able to find a reliable way to tell the difference between when I'm serious and when I'm kidding. You think I exaggerate for effect here. I assure you I do not.
For me to bring these powers into an elementary school setting, where everyone is so warm and fuzzy and friendly and supportive and encouraging and smiley? The results can be devastating. So tonight I will share with you some of the background involved in constructing a perfect April Fools Day joke. Now, I don't mean something as ridiculously easy as a simple prank. "Whoops, sugar for salt! Uh oh, taped down the handle on the sprayer!" Not that I'm above pranks; one year on April Fools Day, I got every single kid in my class with a different prank, and some of them were so weak I was almost embarrassed to claim them. It's worth pointing out, however, that the truly great prank of that day was borrowed from an episode of M*A*S*H, in which I made one kid wait so long for his prank that he was downright twitchy and paranoid by the end of the day... only to discover that my prank was to drive him into that paranoia. (I never said my sense of humor didn't have a dark side.) Even this year I grabbed a spontaneous moment and fell back to a classic prank, when I quietly stepped up behind a friend of mine in an empty computer lab and just asked what she was doing. We didn't quite need to fire up the defibrillator down the hall, but it was close.
No, a true April Fool's Day joke is one where you say something that captures someone's attention to such a degree that when they find out there's no truth to the story, they are absolutely gobsmacked to learn you were making it up. I've had a couple of good ones over the years: There was the day I walked around on crutches with a giant Band-Aid on my forehead, and had most of the kids and half of the staff believing I had slipped on the parking lot ice the night before and hit my head on a car. There was the spiraling lie I still can't believe I got away with today. But one of the all-time classics has to fall back to the year I was engaged to be married. Supposedly. Allow me to explain.
A good friend of mine, someone I've known for nearly 20 years now, made the mistake of scheduling her return from maternity leave on April 1. I won't name her here, because if you know the story already you know who she is, and if you don't she might not want me spreading this around. Plus she's probably tired of hearing the story after all these years.... anyway. The prank was to get her to believe that during the weeks she had been away from school, I had met someone and fallen in love so completely and so quickly that I was already engaged.
Step 1: Play on people's trust. The key to success here was my enlisting a friend of ours as a co-conspirator, someone so perfectly sweet she would never be suspected of being involved in something like this. I told her my plan and she was immediately on board.
Step 2: Diversion. Somehow, either through sincerity or feigned concern or by downplaying the situation, draw attention away from the fact that it's April Fools Day. Don't give them a reason to think it might be.
Step 3: Make the situation normal. You have a better chance of things working if the joke creeps up on the victim and is given room to grow. Our plan was to plant the seed early in the day and let it develop on its own until after school. If we had rushed in with the news early in the morning, that probably would have tipped it off.
Step 4: Choose the right details. I had a college professor tell me that creative writing is like a dot-to-dot drawing; as the writer you offer up a few details and let the reader fill in the rest of the images on their own. If you choose enough good details to make it all seem real, your victim will do the rest.
Okay. So here's what happened. And ________, I hope you won't punch me for writing all of this up if you ever read it....
She shows up at school, her first day back. Focused on being back at work, very likely still thinking about the new baby, so I had diversion built in. My partner catches her in the morning: "I'm not supposed to say anything because he wanted to tell you himself, but I can't help myself! HE GOT ENGAGED!" Now the victim thinks *she* is in on a secret instead of the other way around. We had actually encouraged other people to make passing mentions of my engagement during the day, talking about something that probably would have been big news like they normally would have, but I don't know if anyone else came through for us on this or not. And frankly, we didn't spread it too much because I was worried about someone else blowing it accidentally. But the idea was given the day to grow. I saw her at one point during the day, and we had a "What's new?" kind of small-talk session. I said nothing much, but asked her to come by my room after school ended so we could talk.
She told me later she didn't think much about it during the day -- diversion worked!-- but when we got together and I started hinting at things it began to come back. I broke the news and told her how I met my new imaginary woman met at a staff development session. I told her which school she taught at and which grade, what her name was, no I hadn't met her parents yet, but we were flying out west to meet them in a couple of weekends and I was kind of nervous about it, we hadn't picked a date yet but were thinking October because she enjoyed the fall colors so much, and I went on like this for about ten minutes. This is where the writer part comes in -- I had to make up details and create this off the top of my head, because something in the plan wasn't working. The secretary was supposed to call down over the intercom and say April Fool at a specific time to reveal the joke, but she got caught up doing something, oh, I don't know, job-related... one of those running-the-school types of things secretaries so commonly have to do. So I'm rambling on, trying to keep my victim interested so she doesn't notice the seven people standing in my doorway who were on the verge of laughter listening to all of this. FINALLY we get the call, and she looks at me, unable to reconcile what was happening. "I don't get this. What joke? What April Fools?" And when I explained it was all made up, it just left her head spinning. The doorway people spilled into the room told her how happy they were to have her back while my co-conspirator tried to make a quick getaway.
And even though I occasionally remind her of this story on April Fools Day, commemorating a sort of anniversary, she still likes me. At least I think so.
For me to bring these powers into an elementary school setting, where everyone is so warm and fuzzy and friendly and supportive and encouraging and smiley? The results can be devastating. So tonight I will share with you some of the background involved in constructing a perfect April Fools Day joke. Now, I don't mean something as ridiculously easy as a simple prank. "Whoops, sugar for salt! Uh oh, taped down the handle on the sprayer!" Not that I'm above pranks; one year on April Fools Day, I got every single kid in my class with a different prank, and some of them were so weak I was almost embarrassed to claim them. It's worth pointing out, however, that the truly great prank of that day was borrowed from an episode of M*A*S*H, in which I made one kid wait so long for his prank that he was downright twitchy and paranoid by the end of the day... only to discover that my prank was to drive him into that paranoia. (I never said my sense of humor didn't have a dark side.) Even this year I grabbed a spontaneous moment and fell back to a classic prank, when I quietly stepped up behind a friend of mine in an empty computer lab and just asked what she was doing. We didn't quite need to fire up the defibrillator down the hall, but it was close.
No, a true April Fool's Day joke is one where you say something that captures someone's attention to such a degree that when they find out there's no truth to the story, they are absolutely gobsmacked to learn you were making it up. I've had a couple of good ones over the years: There was the day I walked around on crutches with a giant Band-Aid on my forehead, and had most of the kids and half of the staff believing I had slipped on the parking lot ice the night before and hit my head on a car. There was the spiraling lie I still can't believe I got away with today. But one of the all-time classics has to fall back to the year I was engaged to be married. Supposedly. Allow me to explain.
A good friend of mine, someone I've known for nearly 20 years now, made the mistake of scheduling her return from maternity leave on April 1. I won't name her here, because if you know the story already you know who she is, and if you don't she might not want me spreading this around. Plus she's probably tired of hearing the story after all these years.... anyway. The prank was to get her to believe that during the weeks she had been away from school, I had met someone and fallen in love so completely and so quickly that I was already engaged.
Step 1: Play on people's trust. The key to success here was my enlisting a friend of ours as a co-conspirator, someone so perfectly sweet she would never be suspected of being involved in something like this. I told her my plan and she was immediately on board.
Step 2: Diversion. Somehow, either through sincerity or feigned concern or by downplaying the situation, draw attention away from the fact that it's April Fools Day. Don't give them a reason to think it might be.
Step 3: Make the situation normal. You have a better chance of things working if the joke creeps up on the victim and is given room to grow. Our plan was to plant the seed early in the day and let it develop on its own until after school. If we had rushed in with the news early in the morning, that probably would have tipped it off.
Step 4: Choose the right details. I had a college professor tell me that creative writing is like a dot-to-dot drawing; as the writer you offer up a few details and let the reader fill in the rest of the images on their own. If you choose enough good details to make it all seem real, your victim will do the rest.
Okay. So here's what happened. And ________, I hope you won't punch me for writing all of this up if you ever read it....
She shows up at school, her first day back. Focused on being back at work, very likely still thinking about the new baby, so I had diversion built in. My partner catches her in the morning: "I'm not supposed to say anything because he wanted to tell you himself, but I can't help myself! HE GOT ENGAGED!" Now the victim thinks *she* is in on a secret instead of the other way around. We had actually encouraged other people to make passing mentions of my engagement during the day, talking about something that probably would have been big news like they normally would have, but I don't know if anyone else came through for us on this or not. And frankly, we didn't spread it too much because I was worried about someone else blowing it accidentally. But the idea was given the day to grow. I saw her at one point during the day, and we had a "What's new?" kind of small-talk session. I said nothing much, but asked her to come by my room after school ended so we could talk.
She told me later she didn't think much about it during the day -- diversion worked!-- but when we got together and I started hinting at things it began to come back. I broke the news and told her how I met my new imaginary woman met at a staff development session. I told her which school she taught at and which grade, what her name was, no I hadn't met her parents yet, but we were flying out west to meet them in a couple of weekends and I was kind of nervous about it, we hadn't picked a date yet but were thinking October because she enjoyed the fall colors so much, and I went on like this for about ten minutes. This is where the writer part comes in -- I had to make up details and create this off the top of my head, because something in the plan wasn't working. The secretary was supposed to call down over the intercom and say April Fool at a specific time to reveal the joke, but she got caught up doing something, oh, I don't know, job-related... one of those running-the-school types of things secretaries so commonly have to do. So I'm rambling on, trying to keep my victim interested so she doesn't notice the seven people standing in my doorway who were on the verge of laughter listening to all of this. FINALLY we get the call, and she looks at me, unable to reconcile what was happening. "I don't get this. What joke? What April Fools?" And when I explained it was all made up, it just left her head spinning. The doorway people spilled into the room told her how happy they were to have her back while my co-conspirator tried to make a quick getaway.
And even though I occasionally remind her of this story on April Fools Day, commemorating a sort of anniversary, she still likes me. At least I think so.
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