Both boys are in the same school. I take them on the 19 minute drive every morning. Skipper usually chatters away and Hank is quiet. Today, about halfway there, Hank piped up "I've decided when I grow up I want to be a spy, a soccer player, or a reader." "What's a reader?" I asked. "Someone who writes a book." he replied. "Oh, you mean writer." I responded. "Yea, writer" he said. "What's a publisher?" he asked. I gave him some sort of answer and then he asked "What's an illustrator?" That was an easier answer, but where did this new interest and all these questions come from?

Tonight we went to Angelo's on Federal Hill for dinner. As often happens with the boys, just as the dinner arrived, they had to use the bathroom. So, while chewing on my first piece of ravioli, I walked them to the men's room. As we passed through the waiting area, an unrecognizable fellow said to me "PCD, right?" PCD (Providence Country Day School) was my high school. I said "yes". He said "William Smith. Do you remember me?" I said "Yes, but how did you recognize me?" "You look just the same now as you did then(38 years ago)", he replied.

Interestingly, he recognized me but couldn't remember my name. Even so, 1 out of 2 is pretty good. Skipper shook hands with him in a very grown up way. Hank was still in the can. I mentioned that 3 of our 40 member class were gone (deceased) and gave their names. He seemed discouraged by this. I gave him my card and said "Let's have lunch some time. Give me a call." I'm sure I'll never hear from him again.