I WAS SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH A NEW DENTIST. I NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME .

SUDDENLY, I REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY WITH THE SAME NAME HAD BEEN IN MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME 40-ODD YEARS AGO.

COULD HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON, WAY BACK
THEN?

UPON SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCH THOUGHT.

THIS BALDING, GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS WAY

TOO OLD TO HAVE BEEN MY CLASSMATE. AFTER HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I

ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDED MORGAN PARK HIGH SCHOOL

"YES. YES, I DID. I'M A MUSTANG," HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.

"WHEN DID YOU GRADUATE?" I ASKED.

HE ANSWERED, "IN 1963. WHY DO YOU ASK?"

"YOU WERE IN MY CLASS!" I EXCLAIMED.

HE LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY. THEN, THAT UGLY, OLD, WRINKLED, BALD,

FAT, GRAY, DECREPIT S.O.B ASKED,



"WHAT DID YOU TEACH?"