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In 1961, I was very mature for a 6th-grader
if and only if
maturity can be
equated with
stupidity.
Sixth-graders were
the upperclass students
of PS 193.
We were allowed
to eat our lunch
in the auditorium.
The three children
you see are the girl
on the left, me,
and the girl on the right.
But to protect the innocent, no other 6th-graders are included in the illustration.
We were soon to graduate from a public elementary school but unlike virtually
all my classmates, I would be transferring to a Catholic school.
I wanted to leave a strong impression on these two girls,
henceforth, known as
Miss Blue and
Red.
In 1961, like all good children, I hated spinach but–on this particular day–
my mother had made me a spinach & eggs sandwich.
Seated in the front row, I had much room to maneuver.
So I stood up and tossed the sandwich on the floor
of the auditorium.
I proceeded to stomp on the sandwich and not stop until
it was as flat as a tortilla.
Then I tore into two pieces what remained of the spinach & eggs.
I tried to give half to
Miss Blue and the other half to
Red.
But both girls ran out of the auditorium screaming.
For the remaining month of school, I had an inspirational effect
on the two young ladies.
Whenever they saw me walking down the hall,
they were inspired to walk
in the opposite direction.
But I am a fast learner: I never again foot-stomped on a sandwich.
However, about a dozen years after this incident, with my left hand
I squashed a spinach-grilled cheese sandwich
as if it were a housefly.
A man standing nearby shouted "Holy Panini!"
I was told that, years later, he became an extremely wealthy restauranteur.
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Footnote
The illustrator is Mrs. CarPeo.
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