First, the sandwich bag was all wrong. It could be any plastic bag that found its way into the house, usually cradling my Dad’s stiff shirt or the Tribune. These bags were huge, unwieldy and, by the time they reached the cafeteria, sticky inside and out. The sandwich didn’t float out— often the bag would have to be removed from the sandwich.
Sixteen, twenty-four—oh that’s easy—music time.
But how would I ever remember a number like 56. How does that fit into anything. Now 72 was a strange number at first but I liked that it was 27 backwards
It’s back to school time in my head, even though my last blue fabric-covered notebook was over forty years ago, even though my daughter takes an airplane to school and I kiss her good-bye once for the whole semester. Still, the school calendar calls the tune for me and so many others, etched into our [...]