would if I did, or if I ever could. All these years – decades now – I hid it from my family, and once you get good at something like that, it’s a hard habit to break. Like smoking or booze. …. So I read the obit – of course I did, had to, drawn to it like a car crash (or an- other bad relationship). I had thought the [MF] was dead, had died a long time ago, but I saw that he had lived a long and prosperous life. Platitudes, glowing words. Hmmm….never arrested, never charged, never sentenced: The [@#$%] got away with it!!! And the phone paid the price for that realization. So did the wall. No kids ever came forward – of course. Nor did any of the other teachers – an open secret. Hell, the one was married to a judge and later used those political connections to run for office herself. Christ! if she wouldn’t help us, who the [f#] would?! And the principal – who used his middle finger to point at us during assem- blies -- was too busy yelling at us for every little thing. He didn’t exactly exude warmth and understanding. So we did what all kids do: We joked about it in private circles (gallows humor on the playground), buried it as best we could, and we grew up (some better than others). But black seeds like that grow deep roots and sprout ugly flowers. ….. There’s a part of me that wishes he’s in hell right now, having his privates publicly and viciously violated for all eternity -- or even nastier punishments than I can dream of -- And my friend and I texted as much.
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