Anita asked me, “Harv, have you ever been guilty of looking at others your own age and thinking, surely, I can’t look that old?…And then she told me this story, which worked in two directions:

This morning I went to a new dentist recommended by my friend Zelda. I was in the dental chair when I happened to notice his framed Doctor of Dental Science degree on the wall, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I had a mental flash-back of a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with that same name who had been in my High School class eons ago. Could my new dentist 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, white-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate. Hmmm…or could he?

TeethAfter he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Taft High school. “Yes, yes I did. I’m a Bulldog,” he gleamed with pride.

“When did you graduate?” I asked. He answered, “In 1951, why do you ask?”

“You were in my class!” I shrieked.

He looked at me closely.

Then, that fat, ugly, old, wrinkled, bald son-of-a-bitch asked, “What did you teach”?

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