Surgery at 11:00 AM, Thursday. Happy to report my nephew's spirits are rising. Will be glad when this little ordeal is behind us, whew!

Looking at my yearbooks again, mainly because I had left them on bedroom floor for the last two weeks. I will pass on some of the more extraordinary entries, spelling and grammar intact.

In one yearbook I was in 7th grade and a 5th grade friend wrote this delightful poem:

If you see a
monkey in a tree,
Don't throw a
stick it might be me.
From E.R.

I will be sure not to throw any sticks at any monkeys in any trees, in the event it might be E.R.

Another 5th grader, who happened to be my sister, writes:

Kathy,

I like having you for a sister. Love in Christ, Laura.

Well, that's good news, who would have thunk it way back when?

Another 5th grader, I believe:

Kathy,

It was nice being your best friend while it lasted. H.

Or maybe that was an eighth grader. Truly, I have no recollection of this short and sweet best friendship.

Moving on to my grade:

Kathy,

Though your tasks are many,
And your rewards are few,
Remember the mighty oak,
Was once a nut like you.

Love always,
B.H.

I really can't think of truer words by a mere mortal.

One of my best friends, she and Crissy and I formed a tight trio, is honest:

We've had a lot of fights, but you're a real sweet girl and I'll always like you. Gravytrain

I think that's a worthy sentiment, mingling the bad with the good and letting the good come out on top, worthy of remembering to this very day. Gravytrain was a real original, need to blog about her.

Next year book, 8th grade.

Kathy,

Your really nice! a just wait when you get both braces off you'll be almost perfect! T.P.

Well, there's a sunny view. That would be teeth braces and the wicked back brace. Almost perfection still is over the distant horizon, however.

This one cracks me up:

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Mark Spitz could learn
alot from you.
One of these days I will get over to see you. And you can count on that. D.

This because I was on the swim team. D. never came to see me. Lesson: Don't count on what people write in your yearbook in the 8th grade.

This time my sister signs the following in a corner in cursive:

Laura Garrett

I guess her affection had waned, although she did trouble herself to section her signature off with green ink (the signature itself was in blue).

Hmmm, here's an interesting one along the sisterly lines:

Kathy,

I think you're a really nice girl. Sometime, (I know it mean) I wish you were my sister instead of C. I hope you come over this summer alot. N.

In other words, if you're feeling down, just whip out your old yearbooks and you won't believe your former self. No recollection whatsoever. The best therapy around.

Here's a mystery:

the Great
13B
And His flyin'
BULTACO

The 13B was done with artistic embellishment.

And, finally,

Roses are red,
Lillies are white,
Here's my name,
To prove I can write!

W.R. (alias Fred)

Fred was the last half of her first name. Can you imagine a 21st century 8th grader writing such a thing? I didn't think so.

Well, life is something else, ain't it?

A puffed up KEM