It was in the hallowed halls of Boonton High School, back in 1968, that I was to feel the pangs of young love.
Remembering Lisa, Chapter 2
By Richard Mabey Jr.
My fateful walk from Room 210, down the hall, down the staircase and then down the hallway to the school cafeteria, with Lisa was a most fateful and painful walk. Even now, after over 47 years have passed, it is still painful to think about. Still painful to write about. It’s an odd thing. A very odd thing.
I’ve done five rewrites of this portion of this true-life story. I need to do yet another rewrite. But, in reflection, there were so very many factors, so many elements of this story. It seems that the odds of all of these elements; the people, the timing, the places, coming together like they did, were probably a million to one.
Ron G. was the home run king. He was undoubtedly one of the best baseball players in dear old Boonton High School.
One of the key people in this true-life story, is my classmate Ron G. Ron and I were very different people. Ron was the home run king. I was one of the kids who got cut from the baseball team. Ron was outgoing and confident. I was shy and introspective. But Ron and I had one thing in common, struggling through Mrs. K’s geometry class.
The Pythagorean Theorem was the essential breaking point for me, in Mrs. K’s geometry class.
I think the breaking point for me, in geometry class, was the Pythagorean Theorem. I remember this as clear as the crack in the Liberty Bell. Dear, wonderful, Mrs. K. began explaining the Pythagorean Theorem. I remember this so very well. Half way through the class, I thought to myself, “what the heck is Mrs. K. talking about?”
In high school, I was quite shy and introspective.
In high school, I was quite shy and introspective. Ron was outgoing and confident. We were very different types of people. But, somehow and someway during our struggles in geometry class, a sense of brotherhood unfolded.
Ron and I sat next to each other in geometry class. Somewhere and some time during Mrs. K’s explanation of the Pythagorean Theorem, I remember turning to Ron and whispering to him, “I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m totally lost.” Ron chuckled a little bit, turned to me and whispered to me, “me too, brother.” At that point in time, I felt a bond of brotherhood with Ron.
It was in Room 210, that two very different people, were a source of encouragement to each other to climb the wall of truly understanding the Pythagorean Theorem.
In grade school, I had a lot of friends from my neighborhood, from church, from scouts, from Lincoln Park whom I had known since the First Grade. But the good Lord provided me with a new friend to encourage me to make it through my struggles in geometry class. Ron was from Boonton. I was from Lincoln Park. Prior to being in Mrs. K’s geometry class, I really did not know Ron beforehand. But Ron turned out to be in the right place, at the right time, to give me encouragement to come to an understanding of the truth of the Pythagorean Theorem. Something for which I am still grateful.
I’m having a tough time writing the second part of my true-life story, “Remembering Lisa.” By now you probably figured out that Lisa and I did not trip the light fantastic at the old high school dance. “Remembering Lisa” is a painful memory to me. But part of being a writer is to struggle and win over the painful points. And for some reason, even though it’s over 47 years later, “Remembering Lisa” is still a painful story for me to write.
Mrs. K. was a great teacher. She truly was a wonderful geometry teacher.
I’d be remiss without saying this. Mrs. K. was a great teacher. She was a wonderful teacher. I was just too distracted with my infatuation with the freshman girl, in the next classroom, to fully appreciation Mrs. K. at the time. It’s kind of sad in a way.
And, to Ron G. there are no words to say thank you, to him, for his kind words of encouragement through the course of our geometry class. And, to all my good readers, I promise that I will get through the process of writing the conclusion of “Remembering Lisa.”