The Note

T h e   N o t e 

I think we can all agree that the way to go on this month's The Note is to write about the kid in my kindergarten class who sucked two fragments of Crayola crayons up his nose.

The beginning of my academic career was matriculating in Stuart's Kindergarten. This was a home-based operation with maybe a dozen students run by a middle-aged couple. I remember George Stuart seemed grumpy and distant. His wife, however, who really ran the place, seemed nice. But, I'm also aware that my memory has caused me to confuse Mrs. Stuart with Mrs. Land, a very nice neighbor of ours who died of a brain tumor. But, I'm confident Mrs. Stuart was nice to us.

I don't remember much about the whole experience. I remember my mother taking me to see Mrs. Stuart before I enrolled. She gave me a box of green army men to play with on the floor while she talked to my mother. Something went well, I guess. I was in. Maybe she was impressed with how I played with the army men. 

I remember I hated the food and was particularly disgusted by a lunch of an undercooked hamburger patty on white bread. It was all pink in the center. I mean, who feeds this kind of culinary abomination to a 5-year-old? Or to anyone of any age, really. Again, this was hamburger on white bread. But, I'm pretty sure Mrs. Stuart was nice. There are worse things than being a bad cook. In fact, now I suspect George did the cooking, because I'm not at all sure he was nice. Maybe he drank. That would explain a lot. Including the hamburger and the white bread.

A group of us were sitting at a table coloring. There was this mammoth box of crayon fragments. A couple of us guys were making a game out of sticking short crayon fragments in each nostril and blowing them out. There were no girls involved in this game which is just one little piece of evidence to support my long-standing belief that women are superior to men. There are many, many more.

And speaking of that, this kid, whose name I can't remember, got confused by the game and instead of blowing the crayon fragments out his nose with a sharp nasal exhalation, he did a sharp nasal inhalation and the two crayon fragments (sorry, I don't remember the colors) vanished up his nose. One of them might have been burnt umber.

I remember he suddenly looked shocked and started making this sort of braying noise. The little guy totally panicked. I think George and his wife attempted to extract the crayons and failed. Those things were really up there. This precipitated a ride to the local hospital for this kid. I'm sure it turned out fine. I don't think he came back to the kindergarten. (By the way, I don't suppose there was any kind of accrediting agency for private kindergarten's back then. Maybe there still isn't.)

I'm hoping the crayon-inhaling boy is alive somewhere and that he tells the story. That would say a lot about him. There are people who gladly tell stories about really dumb and embarrassing things they've done. There are people who never do. The latter are people you should do all you can to avoid in life. 

Here's issue 59. Thanks to all involved.

Yours,

Dale

next