Maragold in Sixth Part Six

CHAPTER  21

          June started like a hot furnace.  The sky was so blue it looked like ocean water on a sunny day.  The heat must have dissolved the clouds because I had to search to find even the smallest wisp of a cloud.

          Mr. B.’s students went outside for their physical education class.  The boys and girls had been divided into two mixed teams and were playing softball.

          The students on each team were yelling, screaming, cheering, laughing, and sweating.  They were at school, but outdoors, and that made all the difference to them.  The heat and sweat didn’t bother them.  If they got hot and sweaty in the classroom, however, their reactions would have been just the opposite.

          As I watched them play softball, I wished I could bring the game back to Ireland with me.  But leprechauns are too small, although maybe we could use a human sized pencil for a bat, a moth ball for the softball, checkers for the bases, and a winter mittens for the gloves.  Hmm … I’ll have to try that when I return.

          The boys and girls were smiling wildly, with sparkling eyes, ignoring the heat and sweat because they were having so much fun.  Only when a salty droplet of sweat burned their eyes did they temporarily think about the heat, but then, with a quick wipe of the eye, that feeling disappeared in the excitement of the game and the competition.

          When they had to return to the locker room, they were told to shower very quickly because they were late and the next class would be coming soon.

          Eric’s hands were filthy from drawing in the dust with sweaty hands.  He reached for the door with his right hand and Mr. Jackson noticed his dirty hand because the dust had turned to mud due to the sweat.

          Mr. Jackson said, “Incredible, Eric!  How do you get so dirty?  Your face, hands and knees are filthy.”

          Eric replied, “Uhm … Mr. Jackson.  I was born with a dirty gene.  Getting dirty is one of my skills.  I’ve had it since birth, you know.”  Eric smiled.

          Mr. Jackson returned Eric’s smile, then cuffed him gently on the back of his head.  Mr. Jackson rolled his eyes and said, “Go wash, Mr. Trouble.  You’re late, and unless you want to go back to your classroom with only your underwear on, you’d better hurry.”  Suddenly Mr. Jackson was standing all alone and he chuckled to himself as Eric ran to his locker.

          After the class had showered, dressed and returned to their classroom, Matt kept fidgeting in his seat as if he was uncomfortable.

          When lunchtime came, the students who needed to use the bathroom did so before lining up to go to lunch.

          Eric washed his hands again because of the dirt still under his fingernails.  He didn’t want Grace to be disgusted while they were eating lunch.

          While Eric was washing his hands, Matt entered the bathroom.  He seemed bothered by something.  He even seemed to walk a little differently as if he had gotten hurt in gym class.  Eric was worried and asked, “What’s the matter?”

          A couple minutes later Matt and Eric came out of the bathroom together, smiling and laughing quietly, as if they had a secret.

          But then at the lunch table Matt and Eric looked like they were arguing, but they were also smiling at each other.  It didn’t make sense to their friends.

          Eric said, “I’m going to.”

          Matt replied, “No!  Don’t!”

          Eric teased, “I’m going to get even for all those times you have played jokes on me or laughed at me.  Payback time, Matt.”  Eric laughed vigorously.

          Matt tried to make Eric feel guilty, saying, “You’re a rat.  Some friend you are.”  Matt pursed his lips and made a false pout to try to get Eric to keep quiet.

          Maragold’s curiosity peaked.  She said, “What’s going on with you two?” loud enough for all the students to hear.

          Eric shouted, “Matt had a case of the creeping underwear.  His underwear was creeping up on him because he put this boxer shorts on backwards in the locker room.  You know what I mean?  So the opening of his boxer shorts was in the back instead of the front!”  Eric laughed and was joined by many others.

          Matt’s face turned red and hot from complete embarrassment.

          Eric saw Matt’s face and laughed hysterically, although he was surprised and pleased that Matt was being a good sport about it.

          But then Maragold increased Matt’s embarrassment, saying, “Sooo … Matt wears boxer shorts, huh?”

          Matt looked at Maragold, his eyes wide with surprise as his embarrassment doubled.  He was speechless, while everyone else was laughing so hard their lungs were hurting.

          Matt thought it couldn’t get any worse until Eric said, “Yep.  Matt can bend over and really crack a smile with his shorts on backwards.  But … don’t worry anyone.  He’s back to normal now.  He fixed that problem in the bathroom just before we came to lunch.

          “Ohhh!  So that’s what you guys were laughing about when you came out of the bathroom.  I wondered what was so funny.” Maragold looked at Matt and said, “What color?”

          Matt looked at her and said, “What?”

          “Your boxers.  What color are your boxer shorts?” Maragold teased.

          Matt raised his eyebrows, then dropped them and frowned.  He was at a loss for words and his face showed it.  “Ahh … I don’t think …

          “That’s right,” Eric interrupted, “don’t think.  Just tell her, or I will.  Paybacks.  Remember?”

          “You know I’ll get you back for this,” Matt teased.

          “Yeah, well, I’ll risk it,” Eric said still laughing.

          “Blue.  Solid blue.  OK?” Matt stated, wishing the blush on his face would disappear.  He knew it wouldn’t, though, because there was laughter all around him.

          “See what you started,” Matt accused Eric.

          “Yeah!  I do see.  I’m proud of myself, too,” Eric beamed.

          Maragold and the others, especially the girls were laughing at Matt.  It was not often that they saw him embarrassed.

          Maragold leaned forward and said to Matt, “Blue, huh?  Would that be navy blue, sky blue, royal blue, or blueberry blue.  You probably only wear them once in a blue moon, right?”

          “Geez!  I thought Eric was bad enough, but you’re worse.  So let me ask you about your dad and your stinky feet and socks, Mara.  What game did you play with your dad, when you were little?  The game that caused your dad to lose his sense of smell?” Matt asked with a big smile.

          Now Maragold was silent and feeling the heat of embarrassment.

          “OK, then.  If you won’t tell, then I will,” Matt said, happy to distract everyone from his boxer shorts.  “When Mara was little she used to beg her dad to smell her feet.  She would be playing with her dad, take her shoes off, then try to get him to smell her really stinky feet.  If her dad was lying on the rug of the magic room, Mara would take her socks off and try to push them under her dad’s nose.  Sometimes she chased him down the hallway yelling, ‘Smell my socks, daddy.’

          “Now Mr. Shane has no sense of smell.  The smell of Mara’s socks burned the inside of his nose so badly that he’s unable to smell anything.  It’s a wonder he can even see.  Those rotten socks must have stung his eyes enough to make them water like Niagara Falls.”

          Maragold’s face blushed a deeper red.

          Cheryl blurted, “OK, OK.  Let’s have a truce so we can start our joke time.”

          The laughter faded quickly as Maragold and Matt smiled at each other.  But Maragold made a mental note not to tell Matt any more funny stories about herself that he could use to get-even with her after she teased him.

          Cheryl added, “Hey!  Has anyone seen any more of those funny bumper stickers and signs that people are putting on their cars and in some stores and restaurants?  I saw one in a restaurant the other day. The sign they had there said,  IF YOU START SMOKING, WE WILL THINK THAT YOU ARE ON FIRE AND SPRAY YOU WITH WATER.

          “Oh!” Eric said, “I saw a sign on a tow truck.  The kind of truck that pulls cars to a garage when they won’t start up.  That tow truck had a sticker that said,  WE DON’T CHARGE AN ARM AND A LEG.  WE JUST WANT TOWS.  Get it? Tows and toes?   “My turn,” interrupted Matt so that Eric wouldn’t tell any more.  “Speaking of a restaurant, I saw a sign that was placed in the window so you could see it from the outside.  It said,  DON’T STAND OUT THERE AND BE HUNGRY!  COME ON IN AND GET FED UP.  That’s the only new one that I’ve seen.”

          There was a short pause while the kids thought if they’d seen any more signs.

          When no one said anything, Maragold said, “I’ve seen some too.  When I went to get my eyes examined, the eye doctor’s waiting room had a sign on the wall that said,  IF YOU DON’T SEE WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR, YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE.”

          Maragold laughed with her friends, then added, “My Aunt Fran and Uncle Larry got really tired of salesmen coming to their house, so they made a sign and put it on their front door.  It said,  SALESMEN ARE WELCOME BECAUSE DOG FOOD IS EXPENSIVE.”

          “Oh!” Eric said, “Mentioning dog food reminds me of my dog, Timex.  I went shopping with my mom the other day and needed to get dog food.  One can of it was three dollars.  That’s so outrageous, you know, because in dog dollars, that’s twenty-one bucks.  But he’s worth it.  Really.  He even taught me to turn around three times before lying down on my bed.  Smart, huh?  And Timex is so smart that he can count.”

          That brought more laughter.

          “Come on, Eric,” Cheryl stated with thick sarcasm, “You know darned well that dogs can’t count.  You think we’re stupid?”

          “Sometimes you can be, but I dare you to put three dog snacks in your front pocket, then only give him two of them.  You’ll find, real quick, that he knows you have one more treat for him,” Eric responded with a chuckle.

          Cheryl’s face turned red at the insult, but before she could speak, Eric looked at Grace.  “Have you seen anything like those bumper stickers or funny signs?”

          “Yeah.  Actually, I have.  I saw a bumper sticker on a plumber’s truck that was parked in the grocery store parking lot.  It said,  WE REPAIR WHAT YOUR HUSBAND FIXED.  I thought it was funny, especially when my mom stared at my dad and we laughed at him.”

          “That’s a funny one,” Eric praised Grace.  “Matt interrupted me before, but I had another one to tell.  Eric looked at Matt.  Matt smiled and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know what Eric was talking about.

          “My dad and I went to an electronics store to have something repaired and on the wall in back of the counter, a sign said,  LET US REMOVE YOUR SHORTS.  Not boxer shorts, Matt, just electric shorts.  It sort of reminded me of the repair work that Matt did before coming to lunch.  Gotcha again,” Eric teased.

          “I see you’re getting quite a charge out of your electronic joke.  I think the Energizer Bunny had a talk with you,” Matt responded with a return tease.

          Robby looked along the table and didn’t see anybody ready to tell a joke, so he said, “I saw one at a funeral home.  It said,  DRIVE CAREFULLY.  WE’LL WAIT.  I thought that one was really funny.”

          The other kids agreed and laughed more.

          Tanya, who had been waiting eagerly, spoke up.  “Even our veterinarian has a funny sign on her front door.  It says,  BE BACK IN FIVE MINUTES.  SIT!  STAY!  QUIET!”

          Then Charlie said, “I saw one, but I didn’t want to say anything about it while people were eating.  But now it looks like everyone is done.  The joke’s still a little gross.  You want to hear it?”

          Eric quickly said, “Oh, goody!  Tell it!”

          Other heads nodded in agreement.

          “OK,” Charlie said quietly.  “When I was riding my bike, last weekend, I saw a septic tank cleaning truck.  The sign painted on that truck said,  YESTERDAY’S MEALS ON WHEELS.  See what I mean about not saying it during lunch?”

          The intense groaning started, followed by painful grimaces and a few silly “yucks.”  But the groans, grimaces and yucks were drowned out by all the other laughter that flowed up and down the table like rippling water.

          “Good one!” Eric said to Charlie.  “So good that I’ll have to write it down with my number two pencil.  Get it!  My number two pencil?”

          Now there was more painful groans than laughter.

          Mr. B. took his students outside, but only for a short while.  Today the students had library class.  So Mr. B. brought his sweaty class inside to cool down, use the bathroom and get refreshing drinks of water.

          Mr. B. brought out a spray bottle filled with clean water.  Normally it was used to spray a mist of water on his classroom plants and flowers.  After his students cleared-off their desks, he sprayed a cooling mist on their hot faces.  Occasionally he changed the nozzle setting so it squirted a stream of water into an open mouth.  It was fun, funny, relaxing, and, best of all, cooling.

          After about fifteen minutes the class was ready to go to the library.

          The students arrived at the library and sat at the library tables, as usual.  After listening for a while, boredom set in for many of them.

          Eric started teasing Cheryl.  He whispered, “Women really rely on men too much, you know.  Even in words, women can’t get along without men.”

          “What the heck are you babbling about?” Cheryl asked quietly.

          “Well, for example,” Eric said, with a proud smirk, “the words: women, woman, or even human, would not exist without the words men or man.  See how very important we males are, Deary?”

          “Sure you are, you manly, Honey Bear,” Cheryl said with heavy sarcasm.  “But let’s study the words manure and maniac.  They can’t exist without a man either.  And you may be both of them, if you ever grow up to be a man.”

          Hushed laughter, at Eric, covered the table like a table cloth.

          Eric sat quietly, knowing that Cheryl had just beat him at his own game.

          Grace had been scowling at him from the beginning of his joke.  Now she was laughing, quietly, with all the other students at their table.

          The remainder of the week dragged on for both students and teachers.  It was too hot and uncomfortable to teach or learn important lessons, plus, with all the testing completed, the students’ motivation was low.  So Mr. B. kept doing mostly review lessons, fun projects, games and spent extended time outside after lunch and before the buses came to bring his students home.

          Matt, Eric, Cheryl, Robby and Grace were invited to Mara’s house the following Saturday.  Mr. and Mrs. Shane were going to the Seneca Park Zoo, in Rochester.  They told Mara that she could invite her friends to come with them.

          I was excited to go to the zoo, also.  I’d never been to one and only knew about them through books and movies.  I thought it would be wonderful to see the animals.

          When everyone piled out of Mr. Shane’s van and entered the zoo, around noon, boyfriends and girlfriends got together and wanted to wander the zoo in different directions.  Mr. and Mrs. Shane told everyone that they would eat lunch first, as a group, then they could wander off in pairs, but that they must all meet back at the food area at three o’clock.

          After they all ate, Mrs. Shane said to Mr. Shane, “Did you know they wanted to go off by themselves?”

          “No.  Had no idea they’d want to wander off, but it could be a good thing,” Mr. Shane replied.

          “How could it be a good thing.”

          “Well, Dear, we seldom get to be alone any more.  Maybe we could smooch a little.  I could nibble your ear lobe, my sweet Honey Bee,” Mr. Shane said, teasingly.

          “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Shane responded with a smile and then a giggle.  She took Mr. Shane’s upper arm and they walked off together.  When they stopped to look at the elephants, Mr. Shane had his arm around Mrs. Shane’s waist and they looked pleasantly at each other.

          I wanted to be with Maragold and Matt.  I wanted to spend as much time with them as I could, before I left them to return to Ireland.  When they sat on a park bench to rest, I humorously said to them, “You know, possibly the most important thing I’ve learned during my stay in America is that there’s a lot that I don’t know or that I think I don’t know or understand.  But even if I don’t know that I don’t know something, I don’t know if I’d even care to know the things that I don’t know.  You know?”

          Maragold and Matt stared at each other, then, at the same time, they looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “No!  We don’t know what you mean?”

          “Well, you know.  I’m talking about my not knowing things that I should know, but that I don’t know.  You know?” I said to them.

          They both looked puzzled.  Maragold said, “What do you mean?  Of course you don’t know the things that you don’t know?  How could you know something that you don’t know?  What are you talking about?”  Then she and Matt started laughing, especially after Matt said, “He’s talking nonsense,” and Maragold said, “You know you know that, and I know you know that, but does he know that we both know that.  I think he knows that.  You know?”

          Maragold and I laughed as Matt pretended to be annoyed with us.  Then he smiled and said, “You’re both weird, but nice.  Let’s walk around.”

          We walked to a more quiet place away from the crowds because I told them I needed to talk seriously to them.

          When we found a quiet place and I had their attention, Maragold already knew what I wanted to talk about.  She had a pained expression that was magnified by her tearful eyes and trembling lips.

          Matt put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her and she leaned against him as I talked.

          Matt looked at me sadly, too, like you might look at one of your best friends who was moving to another state and you’d probably never see him again.

          Maragold’s head drooped until she was looking at her feet; her tears dripping to the ground, disappearing into the thick carpet of grass.

          I apologized for saying my good-byes now, but they understood that it was difficult to find a time when I could talk to the both of them together, privately.  I told them that our fond memories would always comfort us.  I said that they were both strong and would adjust to the sadness of my departure because the happiness we shared will be like a medicine that takes the pain away and let’s them forever remember and enjoy the wonderful times that we shared.

          I said, “I want you to know that I will assign guides, protectors, to each of you and your four close friends.  These guides will never be seen, though they might be heard.  They will be near all of you, watching over you.  You may think you hear an inner voice offering suggestions, or you may have a feeling of doubt or danger that something needs to be avoided or needs to be done.  You may think it’s a gentle breeze whispering in your ear when you have an important decision to make.  You may think you hear the buzz of an insect that causes you to stop at a curb just in time to avoid a speeding car.  These protectors and guides will only offer suggestions that appear as vague feeling or thoughts, but they will only be suggestions.  You will be free to make the final decisions about your life and the direction that you take.

          “You will only see me, occasionally, in your dreams.

          “You will also decide how long you will hold onto your memories of me.  I will leave you with that decision since we have decided not to erase any memories.  If you decide, later, that the memories bring too much sadness or pain, then you may wish to erase those memories.  All you have to do is tell me that in your dreams and I will hear you.  You can also whisper it, during quiet times, and your protector-guide will relay the message to me.  Then I shall help you forget.

          “Also, and this is very important, in the future, as you grow up to be adults, our shared memories may appear to be childish; an imagined reality, like children with imaginary friends to talk to and to comfort them.  If you wish to think of our friendship like that, then do so.  I don’t want our wonderful memories to end up making you feel uncomfortable or sad.

          “I shall never forget the both of you, or your friends.  I hate to have to say good-bye to all of you.  That’s why I want you to know that when I leave, at the end of this month, it will be sudden, without heart breaking farewells.

          “Our time together, right now, at this zoo, will be our good-bye.  It will be a good-bye to remember; a beautiful, sunny day, with a cool breeze, surrounded by pretty flowers, bushes, and the sight of animals that we’d normally never get to see.”

          My heart ached as I saw Maragold reach for a tissue to wipe the tears away, then blow her nose.  The tears that had already run down her cheeks left salty, white paths.

          Matt’s eyes were misty with sadness.  I didn’t get to know him as well as Maragold, but he turned out to be a really nice guy.

          I floated to Maragold’s shoulder and whispered, “I love you,” softly into her ear, then kissed her ear lobe.

          Then I floated onto Matt’s shoulder and whispered, “Good luck, my friend.”

          To both of them I said, “I’m going to temporarily erase your memory of my good-bye speech because it has created too much sadness for all of us.  I want you to enjoy today.  I want it to be very special and—”

          I saw Maragold about to object to erasing the memory of my good-bye speech so I said, “Dear Maragold.  My dear friend.  I promise that I will not permanently erase your’s or Matt’s memory of my farewell speech.  It will just be temporary, so that both of you can enjoy the rest of this day without the sadness that my speech brought to both of you, OK?”

          She and Matt nodded their heads in agreement.  Maragold wiped away her tears.  Matt still had his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

          Then one quick flick of my magic wand and both the memories of my speech, and the sadness that it brought were erased until tomorrow morning.

          Around the next bend in the path, all six friends came together.

          Soon there was laughter, teasing, wide smiles bright, hopeful eyes of joy and the holding of hands.  Some skipping, foolishness and joking followed as these six friends wandered off together having the time of their lives.  Their faces were brightened by the warm sun, a gentle breeze and the comfort of their close friendship.

          I watched them with envy because today was a day of ultimate happiness for these six friends, and a memory was being made that could never be forgotten.  It would be a memory of childhood, free from the responsibilities and stresses that adults face.  It was blissful, and would be talked about for years when they are adults.

          I was envious because I could not join in on this remarkable day’s fun.  I cleared Maragold’s and Matt’s minds so they wouldn’t be thinking about my leaving them, but I could not clear my own mind of the sadness that I felt.

          I saw all six of them joking near the monkey cages and thought, “May the hinges of your friendship never grow rusty.”  It was an old Irish saying, and I wished it would be true for all of us.

          The next morning I restored the sad memory to Maragold and Matt.

          The middle of June brought Flag Day with it.  Mr. B. went through his yearly speech about the American flag.  He told his students that Flag Day was a day for all Americans to celebrate and show respect for their flag.  It represented our great country with all its history, he said.  The flag is a symbol of American independence, freedom and unity.  It has a proud history with many people dying to protect America, its people, culture and all its freedoms.  He told his students that they should be very proud to be Americans, and to look at their flag with both pride and respect.

          Mr. B. also informed his students that, in 1776 George Washington asked Betsy Ross to make the very first American flag, and that, in 1814, Francis Scott Key wrote the American National Anthem as he watched Fort McHenry, in Baltimore, Maryland, being attacked by the British as the American flag fluttered proudly in the breeze, over the fort for the entire battle.

          A couple of days later, Mr. B. asked his students to help him with a special, late-afternoon activity.  He asked everyone to take out two sheets of paper.

          He said, “Please write every one of your classmates names on your papers and leave two lines empty between each name.”

          The students thought that this looked and sounded better than a boring review lesson, so they happily got busy.

          When the students were finished Mr. B. said, “Now I’d like you to think of the nicest compliment that you can say about each of those people and write it in the empty lines next to their names.”

          This took quite a while, but there was no hurry.  It forced the students to think pleasant thoughts.

          Mr. B. walked around the room observing and smiling as he read some of the compliments.  Some students were stuck and he gave them helpful suggestions.

          “Please try very hard,” he said, “to make your compliments different and specific to that person.  It won’t show much effort or thinking if you write ‘he’s nice or she’s nice’ next to every name on the list.

          “Pretend it’s a test and your trying to do your best,” Mr. B. added.

          It took almost forty-five minutes for everyone to complete this assignment.  For some students it was easy and took only twenty minutes, while, for other students, it was a struggle.

          Then Mr. B. gave the class a bathroom break.  As each student went out the door, they handed their papers full of compliments to him.

          After the bathroom break, Mr. B. took his class outside.  He threw a football to one group, then Frisbees to another group.  He played tag with another group until he could hardly breathe, then sat on a bench in the cool shade of the large maple tree that stood next to the parking lot and tennis courts.

          The huge, old maple tree had long limbs that reached into the parking lot, like the long, strong arms of a monstrous creature, reaching out to grab the cars that were parked in its shade.

          Mr. B. felt the bench jiggle.  When he turned to find out the cause of the jiggle, it was Eric.  Eric was breathing hard, but smiling at Mr. B.

          Mr. B. smiled back at him, then said, “Exercise will make you strong and healthy, Eric.  No pain, no gain.”

          Eric said, “If there’s pain, it’s insane.  Hey, Mr. B., you see those flowers over there?”

          “Yep,” Mr. B. replied as he looked where Eric was pointing.

          “Did you know that they have pistils (pistols) to protect themselves from gangs of criminal insects?” Eric stated.

          “Eric, I’ve enjoyed your sense of humor and I want you to know that I’ll miss you and your friends very much.”

          Uncharacteristically, Eric turned serious, saying, “And we’ll all miss you too, Mr. B.  We’ve all talked about how much we’ve enjoyed your fourth and sixth grade classes.  We won’t forget you.”

          “That’s very special to me, you know.  Please tell the others how much I’ll miss them and that I won’t forget them either,” Mr. B. said with a tone of voice that cracked with emotion.

          Then Eric ran off to be with his friends.  He found them in a group, said some things to them, then they all turned to face Mr. B. and waved to him with broad smiles and sparkling eyes that come from youthful optimism and joy.

          Mr. B.’s brain turned into a camera and when he blinked his eyes the camera snapped that picture, then placed it into a mental album to keep forever.

          I made a copy in my mind also.  In the future, that picture would say more than a million words could say.

          For the next two evenings Mr. B. worked on the students’ “compliment papers.”  He had one sheet of paper for each student, their names printed boldly at the top.  Then, for each student, he printed all the compliments that everyone in his class had said about them.  When he finished, he had twenty-two sheets of paper, filled, front and back, with compliments that each person in class had said about that particular student.

          Mr. B. didn’t think anyone would notice that there were twenty-three compliments on each student’s paper, when there were only twenty-two students in the classroom.  He added his own sincere compliment for everyone.

          The next morning, Mr. B. passed out all the compliment papers to each student.  Suddenly the classroom became unusually quiet as each student stared at their compliments.

          There were surprised looks, expressions of surprise, smiles of joy, and whispered words like:  Really?  Wow!  I never knew …, I didn’t know …

          After ten minutes, Mr. B. said, I’d also like to share something extra with you; something extra that was on Eric’s compliments paper.

          Mr. B. turned to the chalkboard and wrote:

                                       School is over.

                                      School is done.

                                      So stop the learning,

                                      And start the fun.

          As you may have guessed, dear reader, the classroom filled with laughter.

          Eric took a deep breath; a sigh of relief, really.  At first he thought he had gotten himself into trouble.  But now he smiled proudly.  He said, “Oh, it wasn’t anything that any genius couldn’t have done in a few seconds.”

          More smiles and plenty more laughter echoed off the classroom walls, then a second round of laughter came as Eric gave the students a very goofy smile.

                                                BERT’S  QUESTIONS

                   Why do Americans drive on parkways, then park on driveways?

          Do teachers always proofread very carefully to see if they a word out?

                                                CHAPTER  22

          The Saturday before America’s Father’s Day, I was able to spend most of the day with Maragold.

          Her parents had gone out for breakfast and then went shopping at the Henrietta Mall.  They probably wouldn’t be back until mid-afternoon.

          I wanted this time to be very special for us because soon it would be time for me to leave.  We stayed in her room most of the morning and talked about our three years together.  We commented on how we had both grown and matured a lot.  We laughed about books and jokes and Mr. B., then about the close friendship that we had, plus the friendships with her closest friends.

          I also told Maragold more about my family and friends, and about Irish history.  I confided in her about my intention to marry Nurse Sandy.  At that point Maragold got so excited that she shouted, “ting!”

          But there was one fact that I did not mention, yet.  I couldn’t.  The words sat like boulders on my tongue and I could not push them out of my mouth.

          Mr. Shane liked it when Maragold made him home-made, holiday cards, instead of giving him commercial cards.  So Maragold and I worked on a card for each of our father’s.  We colored the cards, too.  I cheated and used my magic wand like a multi-colored crayon and had the coloring done in a flash.  Maragold chose not to use it even though I offered.  She wanted the card to be all her own work.

          Since I had my card done first, I wrote a poem in the card; not using magic, but thinking of bits and pieces of memories that I’ve experienced.  I wrote:

                             I wish for you many rainbows,

                             For bright sunshine after showers,

                             For miles and miles of Irish smiles,

                             And many wonderful, happy years,

                             And shamrocks that decorate your lawn,

                             For much luck and laughter all your life,

                             With many true and loyal friends,

                             While health and happiness surround you.

          Writing poetry is not one of my skills.  I didn’t care much about making it rhyme, I just wanted the message to be a good one.  I think my “Da” will be happy when he reads it.  Yes, dear reader, “Da” is what Irish kids often call their fathers and grandfathers.

          I went to Maragold’s shoulder and peeked at her unfinished card.  She started writing a poem, too.  She concentrated and the tip of her tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth as if it wanted to see peek at the poem too.

          So far she had told her dad how much she loved him and how grateful she was for the things he did for her.  She had only begun her poem.  The first stanza said:

                             You’re such a wonderful dad

                             That I have to honestly say,

                             I could not do without you,

                             So happy Father’s Day.

          She stopped to think of what to write next, then noticed me.  She saw that I was finished so she asked to see my card and read my poem.  She got emotional while reading it.  She said it was terrific.

          Then she asked me to stand on her desk top, which I did.

          She was so perceptive.  Had she read my guarded thoughts or was it intuition?

          “You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?  You’re having a hard time telling me, right?” she asked.

          “Yes,” I said with my heart heavy with sadness.  “I want to be home for Father’s Day.  I need to be with my Da, so I’m leaving a little earlier than I had planned.”

          Our eyes met.  The tears in our eyes distorted our view of each other’s faces.

          “I’m so glad of our ancient Shane-Shaheen connection.  It makes me feel like your older brother; one who loves you very much and hates to leave you.  But I must leave.  I have many duties and responsibilities in Ireland waiting for me.  I’ve been away from my family, friends and country too long.  Elder O’Keefe and the Committee of Elders need me, also.  My people need me,” I said to Maragold as tears dripped down both our cheeks.

          Maragold whispered, “I’ll have to finish this card later.  My tears will get it wet.  I can’t finish the poem right now.”

          I flew back to Maragold’s shoulder and as she cried softly, I whispered, “This is no blarney.  It’s very true.  The luck of the Irish was with me, the day I met you.  You are my precious friend.  My very best friend.  My friend forever, and in dreams we will meet again.”

          After I kissed her earlobe, we were silent.  Sadness filled the room like heavy smoke, making our eyes flood with tears.

          Slowly those tears stopped flowing.  Both of us did our best to pretend to accept the sadness.  We strained to put on happy faces, but the smiles were just masks that hid our great sadness.

          Maragold opened her desk drawer and pulled out a circular, golden locket about the size of an American nickel.  It opened like a book.  She opened it for me to see.  The left side said: “Friends always, Maragold.”  The right side contained a small picture of her face.

          It looked small in her hands when she handed it to me.  In my hands, it looked and felt really big, but it was light.  I stared at it and my vision blurred, again, as tears filled my eyes.

          “It’s beautiful,” I told her.

          “Take it with you to remember me,” she said.

          “I would never forget you, with or without this locket, but it is a wonderful gift.  Thank you,” I told her.

          “Will I ever see you again?” she asked me.

          “I don’t think so.  Not as we are now, but in dreams we will,” I said.  Then I continued to tell her my thoughts.  “I will have a trusted friend of mine watching over you.  She will report to me directly about what’s happening in your life.  When I become president, she will be part of my team, but I’m assigning her to you.  However, she will not be visible to you, nor will she communicate with you as I have done.  You will not be able to see her.

          “Now, listen carefully.  I will be able to put my thoughts into your dreams.  So we will still be able to communicate our thoughts to each other even though the distance between us will be great.  We’ll be able to see each other, too.”

          “That’s good,” she said, weakly, as if she had been wearing a lead coat that pulled her emotions down and drained her of all her energy.

          She was quiet and sad that whole evening.  Her mom and dad noticed and worried about her as she stared at her food during dinner.  She pushed the food around the plate as if she were playing the game of checkers.  She ate very little.

          She started to watch TV, but couldn’t concentrate.  Neither could I.

          Dear reader, can you imagine how it would feel to have a best friend, to love that friend, be with that friend constantly for three years, share all their joys and sadness, then find out that they have to leave you?  That’s how Maragold and I felt.  It was an awful, sad feeling.

          About eight p.m. Maragold excused herself by saying that she was really tired and wanted to go to bed early to read.

          She put on her pajamas and got under the covers of her bed.  When she thought, “OK, Bert.  Come in,” I entered her room and sat on her pillow.

          I stared at her face; such a lovely young woman.  “We had three wonderful years together, didn’t we?” I said.

          “Yes,” she said.  She paused, took a deep breath, then continued, “but this year I mostly neglected you.  You didn’t get a chance to participate like you did last year.  I feel bad about that.”

          “Please don’t feel bad, Maragold.  I didn’t want to participate like I did last year.  Actually, I’m not very proud of the way I participated with those pranks that I helped you play on Miss Demener.  They weren’t nice things to do, though she deserved it.  But I should have known better,” I said to her.

          “Yeah, I guess we were all kind of mean to her.  I really do hope she’s happy now,” Maragold added.

          “I know that she is,” I told her.

          “I can’t sleep.  I don’t know if I can get any sleep tonight, knowing that you are leaving.  Can you help me sleep?” Maragold asked.

          “Of course I can.  I’ll say some Irish blessings and when I’m done you will sleep soundly all night,” I told her.

          “OK, Bert.  Good-bye my dear friend,” she said with a trembling voice and a lone tear-drop falling from the corner of one eye onto her pillow.  Then she closed her eyes.  She looked like sleeping beauty and my mind clicked another picture of her to put inside my memory album.  I had a lot of those pictures.

          In a low, singing voice, I said, “May good luck be your friend in whatever you do, and may trouble always be a distant stranger to you.  Like the warmth of the sun and the light of the day, may the luck of the Irish always shine brightly your way.  May you have all the good health and happiness that life can hold, and at the end of your rainbows, may you find pots of gold.”

          I repeated the Irish blessing until she fell asleep.  Her face looked peaceful.  She would not have a troubled sleep.

          I couldn’t leave right away.  Maragold was like a magnet pulling me back.  I stared at her face, again, not wanting to leave.  Her head was turned toward me and I could feel her soft, gentle breath.  I inhaled deeply, thinking that I could take part of her with me.  I looked around her bedroom at the closet with folding doors, her white desk, her book shelf and dresser all sitting on a blue rug.  I noticed the long mirror on the back of her door, plus her stereo music player with the speakers attached to the wall.  I also saw her bear collection and the small bulletin board with pictures of her friends.  I looked at her one more time … and cried silently.

          Leaving her is the hardest decision that I have ever made.  It was painful.

          When I heard the door knob twist and the hinges squeak, I became invisible.  The door opened slowly.  Two heads peeked in; Mr. and Mrs. Shane.  When they saw Maragold sleeping soundly, Mrs. Shane turned off the bedroom light and very quietly closed the door.

          As they walked quietly down the hallway, Mrs. Shane whispered, “It almost always sounds like people talking in her room, like a conversation is going on, but whenever I check, Mara is alone.  Strange.”

          “Yeah, I know what you mean.  I asked her about it once and she said she can think better if she thinks out loud so she can hear herself.  She said that sometimes she has the radio or CD player on, or she’s talking to a friend on her bedroom phone, so I guess that’s what we’re hearing,” Mr. Shane stated.

          “You’ve got a strange daughter,” Mrs. Shane said with a smile.

          “So do you,” Mr. Shane replied with a return smile.

          As they entered the living room, they both laughed, knowing that they were both extremely lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.

          I had to see Matt before I left, so I flew out the window and went to visit him.  Saying good-bye to Matt would be difficult too.  But I had to do it before I departed for good.  A good friend wouldn’t leave without saying a final good-bye.

          It felt totally strange being in school without Bert, for both Maragold and Matt.  They felt sadness, but they felt happy about their future.  They felt that Bert had left them with good feelings, clearer thinking and acting more mature and responsible.  They felt a self-pride and a spirited self-motivation that surprised them and dissolved most of their sadness away.

          It’s a week after I left them and now I am getting daily reports about Maragold and Matt, but I also receive information about the whole Maragold gang.  The reports make me happy as I settle into the job of being Elder O’Keefe’s assistant—in America, they would say that I was the vice-president.

          Elder O’Keefe was a very good man, but very old and in poor health.  I hoped that I could be half the man he was, and do a good job as his eventual replacement.  I certainly was not looking forward to it, though.  I was not anxious to be the Leprechaun President.  I never had been, but I would accept the duty when the time came.

          It was reported to me that a few days before summer vacation, while in the cafeteria, this conversation took place between Maragold and Matt:

          Maragold stated, “I’m sure glad we had Mr. B. this year.”

          Matt replied, “You got that right.”

          Maragold answered, “A religious rite has nothing to do with it.”

          Matt said, “No!  Not a religious rite.  I mean ‘right,’ the correct way to do something.”

          Maragold replied, “The right way or correct way to write something on paper?”

          Matt said, with a grin, “No!  I’m not talking about writing on paper!  I’m trying to say the ‘correct’ meaning for ‘right.’”

          Maragold acted confused, then said, “Oh.  Sure.  I know.  You want to write something correctly, like a letter to someone, right?”

          Matt stared at her and said, “Heck, no!  Are you deaf?  I mean like the right or correct way to do something.”

          Maragold said, in a surprised voice, “Oh!  Of course!  You mean like a playwright who has to write a play the right way, right?  Geez, I know it takes tremendous skill to be a playwright and write plays the right way.  To some playwrights it’s like a sacred rite when they write plays the right way.  When they are young they have to decide to go left or right, when they come to the fork in the road that will decide what their career will be.  If they make the right choice, then they can go right to the playwright school to learn how to write the right way.  You know what I mean, right?”

          Matt saw what she was doing and did the same thing. “You are so weird sometimes, you know that?  But you may be right about playwrights writing plays the right way.  I agree that it must take a lot of skill, but I doubt that it has anything to do with religious rites, right?”

          Maragold giggled, then said, “Oh!  Right!  You may be right about that.”

          Matt said, “See!  that’s what I started saying before.  ‘Right’ means ‘correct.’  That’s what I was trying to say before you went off on a tangent.  If I’m right about something, then I’m correct.  So when I said, ‘Man!  You’re right about that,’ I was saying that you are correct about what you said to me.”

          Maragold “Whoa.  Now you really are confusing me!”  Maragold managed to keep a straight face and sound serious, though her friends were laughing now.  “Perhaps if you write your explanation down, I can read it, study it and understand you a little better.”

          Matt reached, held Maragold’s hand before saying, “Darn you!  You’re playing that homophone game with me.  You can’t fool me.  You’re teasing me now.”

          Maragold looked hurt. “Oh, Matt.  You know I would never tease you.  We never use humor to tease each other.  We all know that, right?”  Maragold looked at her other friends and they all put very stern, serious expressions on their faces, trying not to bust a gut laughing at Matt.  Actually, Maragold and her friends sounded like a laughing chorus of hysterical hyenas.

          Eric laughed the loudest, then said, “See!  How’s it feels to get caught up in that word-meaning, confusing conversation, like I did?  Makes you feel foolish, huh?”  Eric renewed his laughter.

          Matt took the laughter with good humor, but felt a little embarrassed as he looked down at his lap and shook his head back and forth, trying to hide his grin.

          These events were also reported to me, dear reader.

          The last day of school was only a half day, but there was a sixth grade graduation that most of the sixth graders were bored with.  They just wanted school to end, knowing they had passed sixth grade and were going into seventh grade.

          Mr. B. was proud to tell all his students, before the graduation ceremony in the auditorium, that they had all passed to seventh grade.  The room filled with a few loud sighs of relief.

          At the graduation ceremony, Mrs. Plum gave a short, but inspiring speech, for which the sixth graders were all thankful, especially since the stage lights were hot and they had to stand rigid and very close together.

          After the ceremony, the sixth graders all returned to their classrooms so their teachers could pass out their report cards.

          Mr. B.’s students already knew that they had passed, so the first thing they did was look at the bottom of the report card where it said the name of the teacher that they would have for seventh grade homeroom in the fall.

          The Maragold gang looked at each other, then at Mr. B., who was smiling at them.  The gang was all going to be in the same homeroom class, so they would be together every morning, until they had to switch classes for their subject area teachers.

          They all smiled at Mr. B. for doing them one last kindness; keeping them together for a short time in the morning.

          Cheryl was sad that Robby would be in the sixth grade, part of the elementary school, while the rest of the gang was in middle school.  She hoped, somehow, to still keep him included with the gang.

          The Maragold gang saw school as a mostly fun and challenging adventure for learning new facts, ideas and concepts that would help them become better persons, and allow an outlet for their addiction to humor and laughter.

          This last day of school was not even really a half day.  The students got in line at about ten-twenty a.m. to get ready to go to their buses at ten-thirty

          While they were lined up, Mr. B. walked down the line shaking hands and saying “good luck” to all his students.  Matt and Eric shook his hand a little longer and a little tighter, and smiled a little brighter at him.

          Maragold, Cheryl and Grace were the only girls to hug Mr. B.  He had to keep blinking his eyes to clear away the tears.

          When the students were all loaded onto their buses, the teachers and most of the staff lined-up near the curb, in a single file, following the line of buses.  When the buses rolled slowly away, the bus drivers all honked their horns together, while the teachers and students waved good-bye to each other.

          Mr. B. waved until all the buses were out of sight.  Then he walked over to Mrs. Plum.  They smiled at each other and Mrs. Plum said, “Another successful year?”

          Mr. B. replied, “Yes.  Very successful.  I’ll miss that group.”

          As they approached the school doors, Mr. B. asked Mrs. Plum, “May I ask you what your maiden name is?”  A maiden name is a woman’s last name before she gets married.

          “Sure,” she said.  “It’s Oakly.”

          Mr. B. smiled a few seconds, then said, “On April Fool’s Day I found that the things on my desk had been glued to it.  The only clue was a card I found on my desk.  the card just had Mr. E. written on it.  Mr. E. can be changed to mystery.  That clue led my class in the wrong direction, until Mara Shane came up with the idea that ‘mystery’ sounded very much like Miss Tree.  We thought of you, because you’re married name is Plum, a tree.  But that would have to be Mrs. Tree and that doesn’t sound like mystery.  We couldn’t figure it out so we all gave up.

          “A while later I started wondering about your maiden name.  Could it be the name of a tree?  I got more curious each day.  Now it makes sense.  Before you were married you were Miss Oakly, so you were ‘Miss Tree’ which sounds very much like ‘mystery.’  So … you were the one who glued all those things to my desk?”

          Mrs. Plum laughed without shame, saying, “Yes, Mr. Bunnlow.  It was I who did that.  Bud, the head custodian, helped me.  Pretty good actor, isn’t he?  He even helped you get all your stuff unstuck without letting you know the fact that he knew who glued them.  Funny, huh?”

          “Uhmm, yeah.  It was funny.  My students and I thought of you first because of the name, Plum.  But then we went off in wrong direction and came to a dead end.  We couldn’t believe that the principal would do something like that.  The kids would never have believed it was you, and I had serious doubts about that, too.  It just ended up being an unanswered puzzle.”

          “Do the students know, now?” Mrs. Plum asked.

          “No.  Actually it just occurred to me, a few days ago, to ask about your maiden name.  Then I forgot about it until I saw you here, waving to the students.  Then my curiosity got the better of me again, so that’s why I asked.”

          Mrs. Plum said, “Perhaps you can help me.  I’ve been trying to solve a puzzle, too.  Some one put confetti inside my umbrella.  On our rainy April Fool’s Day I opened it over my head to get to my car in the parking lot.  Confetti spilled all over my hair and clothes.”

          Mrs. Plum paused and stared at Mr. B. suspiciously.  “Was that your doing, Mr. Bunnlow?”

          “Ahh, yes it was.  Funny huh,” Mr. B. responded with a grin.

          “How’d you get into my locked office?”

          “Bud unlocked the door for me.  I stayed late that day, until I saw you leave, then he let me in.”

          “You saw the confetti all over me as I walked to the parking lot?”

          “Yep.  Funny huh?” Mr. B. said, waiting for response.

          “Yep.  Sure was.  So Bud helped the both of us and didn’t let either of us know about it.”

          “Looks that way.”  Mr. B. paused to think a second, then said, “Bud must be laughing his arse off at us every time he sees us.”

          “Then he’s been laughing at us for a long time,”  Mrs. Plum admitted.

          There was a pause as they stared at each other and grinned.

          “Are you thinking what I’m thinking,” Mr. B. said to Mrs. Plum.

          “Depends.  Are you thinking about getting even with him next April Fool’s Day?” Mrs. Plum said.

          Mr. B. smiled broadly and said, “I sure am.  We can work on it together and plan something really devilish for him.  Deal?”

          “Deal,” Mrs. Plum said with a laugh.  “I hope you have a relaxing summer.”

          “Thanks.  You too,” Mr. B. replied as they walked into the school and went their separate ways.

          As Mr. B. walked to his classroom to straighten it up and store all his materials for the summer break, he thought, in particular, about Mara, Matt, Cheryl, Eric and Grace.  He wondered what the future held for them.  Good health and much happiness, he hoped

          Nine months later, on Saint Patrick’s Day, Maragold received a beautiful flower arrangement from the local florist.  The arrangement was unusual because it contained marigold flowers with many shamrocks circling them.  They were beautiful and Maragold thought immediately of Bert.

          A card was attached to the arrangement.  A hand-written poem was on the card.  The poem said:

                                      There are millions of shamrocks

                                      On the Emerald Isle,

                                      Thousands of Irish friends

                                      Wearing a bright smile,

                                      Hundreds of Irish lakes

                                      Sparkling so brightly blue,

                                      But none of these

                                      Are as wonderful as you.

                                      You are more precious than

                                      Any pot of gold,

                                      You are my best friend,

                                      My wonderful Maragold.

                                      I had to leave too soon,

                                      But you’ll always be

                                      My fondest memory.

                                      So may your heart be happy,

                                      May your smile be wide,

                                      And may your pockets overflow

                                      With a lot of gold inside,

                                      And may you always have,

                                      An angel by your side,

                                      To turn your words to poetry,

                                      And be a helpful guide.

          So, dear reader, here is where our adventure together ends.  I hope you had as much fun and laughs as I did.

          Also, I hope you know, dear friend, that there has always been one more member of the Maragold gang.  That person is you.  Thank you for sharing my three-year adventure with Maragold.  The Maragold gang will always include you, too.  Best wishes to you.  May your pockets be heavy with gold, and your heart be light, and may good luck be your friend, every day and night.  May the joy of Irish laughter, lighten your every load.  May the luck of Irish magic, always smooth a rough road.

                                                BERT’S FINAL QUESTION

          If you are driving a car in the darkness of outer space, and you are traveling

          at the speed of light, what happens when you turn on the headlights?

          Whose cruel idea was it to put the letter “s” in the word “lisp?”

                                                AFTERWORD

          It has been fifteen years since I left my dearest friend, Maragold.  Each Saint Patrick’s Day I send her another arrangement of marigold flowers and shamrocks.  It’s a special day when our memories and dreams mingle into the happiest of times that we shared.

          Every July tenth, I send her birthday flowers, a message and a gift.  If anyone gets curious, she says she has a friend in Ireland that was her childhood pen-pal and that we are still friends.  That explanation is accepted because it makes sense.

          Mara is now married to the man of her dreams.  His name is Todd.  He is very intelligent and a wonderful husband and father.  Mr. and Mrs. Shane couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law.  Mara and Todd have a daughter named Lily, and a son named Slone.  They live in Florida and have a wonderful life full of mutual love, respect and happiness.

          Mara and Todd have eager and loving babysitters.  They are Mr. and Mrs. Shane, who retired from their teaching jobs and moved close to Mara and Todd.  They enjoy being close to Mara, Todd and their two grandchildren.  Mr. and Mrs. Shane both love their new roles as grandparents and always make themselves available to baby-sit their grandchildren.  It’s a role that they truly cherish.

          Elder O’Keefe died peacefully in bed nearly a year after I returned to Ireland.  Nurse Sandy, I, and the Chairman of the Committee of Elders sat next to him as he passed on to the next world.  He told me not to be afraid of the job because he thought, in time, that I would be better at it than he was.  He smiled weakly at Nurse Sandy and I, then winked at us because he knew of our plans to marry.

          He tried to hold my hand till the end.  He was so weak that I had to take his hand in both of mine so it would not fall out of my grip.  But it was amazing how his eyes sparkled with a peaceful gleam.

          At 11:39 p.m. he looked a the ceiling with startled, wide eyes that soon turned calm.  He smiled as he looked back at all of us.  His last word was “son” or “sun.”  I don’t know which word he meant.  His smile faded in slow-motion.  His face went slack and his eyes glazed over with a stare that saw nothing.

          That’s how he died, as part of me died with him.

          Nurse Sandy closed his eyes, asked us to leave the bedroom so she could attend to him, then made a phone call to prepare for the funeral.

          Elder O’Keefe received a funeral fit for a beloved king.

          I’ve been the Leprechaun President for fourteen years.  It’s a busy, demanding job, but I’ve learned to do it well, I think, and still be very happy with my family life.  I married Nurse Sandy, and have three children.  From oldest to youngest they are, a boy named Patrick (for Elder O’Keefe), a girl named Mara, and another boy named Matt.  They are fascinated by my stories of the three years that I spent in America with Mara Shane.  They never seem to tire of those stories.

          I have traveled to Boston, on business, once a year since I became President.  I always stay an extra day so I can observe Maragold as the wonderful woman, wife and mother that she has become.

          I’ve made these secret visits to see Maragold since the seventh grade.

          When she was at the University of Buffalo, studying to be a physical therapist, I also visited her once a year for all four years.  She was not aware of any of my visits. It would be too hard for both of us to share a day of fun, then depart for another year.

          Even though Maragold is married, I still make my secret yearly visits.  Sometimes, however, she thinks about me when I visit her, as if her intuition feels my presence.

          Matt and Mara drifted apart in high school, but remained good friends who valued many of the same memories, especially about me.  I’m happy about that.

          Matt attended Monroe Community College, in Rochester, NY.  He studied police sciences because his goal was to become a New York State Trooper.

          He also continued to study martial arts for many years and is now a third degree black belt. He is the chief self-defense instructor for law-inforcement officers in the Rochester area.  He trains with his childhood friend and karate partner, Robby.

          Matt is currently a lead homicide detective with the NYS Troopers in the Rochester area.

          He is happily married to a lovely woman who provided him with love and two sons, the eldest is named Bert—I feel honored—and the youngest is named Matt Junior.

          Cheryl left New York State after high school.  She moved to North Carolina so she could attend the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where she excelled in her math studies.  She became a highly respected high school math teacher, then felt a calling to become a guidance counselor so that she could have more personal and effective contact with students to help them make important, personal and academic decisions.

          Cheryl still keeps in touch with Mara and Robby via phone and email.  She is unmarried, and is very happy with her teaching career.

          Cheryl liked the temperate weather in North Carolina, so she currently lives there.

          Eric, was the jokester and prankster all through high school, though not in a deliberately mean way.  In the high school year book, for his senior year, he was quoted as saying that he was not the class clown, he was the class comedian.  The difference, he explained in the yearbook, was that the class clown is the jerk that pulls his pants down and “moons” the opposing basketball team from the bleachers.  But the class comedian is the clever guy who talked him into doing it.

          Toward the end of high school something clicked inside Eric’s head and all of a sudden he abandoned his philosophy that “laziness was its own reward.”

          Suddenly he got serious about school and grades but it was too late to raise his grades to a college acceptance level.  Most teachers considered him a self-made under-achiever and politely refused to give him a recommendation for college acceptance.  One teacher thought very differently.  Mr. Bunnwell wrote an excellent recommendation for Eric and told him to apply to SUNY Geneseo, New York.

          Eric, received rejections from all the colleges that he applied to; all but one.  Surprisingly, he was accepted at the State University at Geneseo—where Mr. B. nearly begged the admissions committee to take a risk and accept Eric.  Mr. B. told them that he knew Eric was much smarter than his school grades indicated.

          Eric nearly fainted when he was accepted to SUNY Geneseo.  He knew that it must have been Mr. B.’s recommendation that got him admitted.

          Eric took pre-law courses, which surprised every person that ever knew him, including Mr. B.  Many of his high school teachers laughed at the idea.

          However, Eric did so well that he was able to transfer to the University of Rochester.  Upon graduation from the University of Rochester, he was accepted into the Ohio State University Law School.

          His talent and intelligence blossomed there, too.  He excelled in his law courses.  After graduation and passing the Bar, he returned to Rochester.  He is currently an assistant district attorney for the city of Rochester.

          A special point of interest is that Eric and Grace grew even closer as time went on.  They were high school sweethearts.  They were married before Eric left New York to attend Ohio State University Law School.  They are the proud parents of two children, Billy (for Mr. Bunnwell) and Helen (for Grace’s mom).

          Also, to the joy of each, Eric and Matt remain very good friends.  However, they mostly see each other in the court room where Eric vigorously prosecutes the suspected criminals that Matt and his team arrest.

          Robby is now the owner and head instructor of a popular karate school in Henrietta, NY, a suburb of Rochester.  He is currently a fifth degree black belt.  He teaches children, teens and adults at his martial arts school.  During off-hours, Robby and Matt practice at this dojo until the sweat wets their hair and makes their faces shine.

          Robby is engaged to be married.  The date has not been set.  He is looking forward to having children and making a happy life for his family.

          Charlie went through a growth spurt in high school.  He was constantly lifting weights.  He became a large framed, six feet three inches, two hundred and sixty pound, muscular football lineman.

          Harvey never bothered him again and Charlie never looked for revenge.  That’s an indication of Charlie’s good character and maturity.

          Charlie was an all-county, and all-state defensive lineman for his Kroy Golden Knights football team.  He was highly recruited and decided to attend Notre Dame University with a full athletic scholarship.

          He was an outstanding football player and would have easily made it into professional football, except a serious knee injury during his senior year at Notre Dame.

          He is currently the head football coach of a mid-western university and hopes to be the head coach of a professional football team in the future.

          Mr. Bunnlow retired after thirty-two years of teaching.  His wife, Sandy retired two years after he did.

          They now live near Billings, Montana.  They own a small ranch where they raise horses.  They also appreciate being away from the mass populations that they experienced near Rochester, New York.

          Mr. and Mrs. Bunnlow are also thrilled to be grandparents, however, their children and grandchildren still live in New York State.  The Bunnlow’s visit their children and grandchildren on major holidays, and the grandchildren spend half of their summer vacations with them at their Montana ranch.

          Mr. Bunnlow likes to write poetry, short stories, and is attempting to write children’s books and westerns.  His other hobbies are bowling, table tennis, hunting and fishing.

          Mr. and Mrs. Bunnlow have also become very active with the Billings, Montana Moose Lodge.  They volunteer their time and effort and have made many friends among their fellow Moose Lodge members.

          Mrs. Plum departed the Kroy School System and was very much missed.  She did not leave to accept another principal’s job or to retire, but rather she left Kroy to become the Superintendent of Schools in another school district.

          Mr. Bunnlow remembers her fondly.  He considered her the best principal that he ever had in his teaching career.  He also remembers her fondly because she eased the frustrations and pressure caused by school politics and some misguided, uniformed and pushy parents.  He thought she was the kind of skilled principal that provided the oil that smoothed the natural friction caused by conflicting personalities, opinions, and responsibilities among teachers, staff and parents.  She skillfully convinced them to cooperate for the betterment of the students.

          Mr. Bunnlow has never hesitated to say that he admired and respected Mrs. Plum, and that she was as cool and comfortable with herself as an icicle on a frigid winter day.

          Mrs. Plum follows the careers of the Maragold gang avidly, proud that she knew them and had a little part in their development.

          She and Mr. Bunnlow occasionally send email and pictures to keep up with each other’s lives.