And so we begin with Michael Viterbo. Man, I wish that picture was bigger. This is my second grade class picture from Beneke Elementary. Michael can be found on the top row on the far right, wearing what appears to be a pink sweater. Hmm. (FYI, I am just kitty-corner below him, wearing that smokin' hot black and red checkered overall jumper with white tights and black keds. Man, I loved that outfit.)
The story of our love is very short, as I only have a single, fleeting memory of it. This particular event must have taken place in first grade, because it's hazy. All I remember is that I thought Michael was very cute. (This was the beginning of my long attraction to males of the Filipino descent.) One day, as we were walking back into the portables from recess, his hand brushed mine accidentally. He said sorry. But I didn't mind, and all of the sudden I got chills down my spine. My first physical contact with the opposite gender that I distinctly remember. And that is the end of my story about Michael Viterbo.
While I'm looking at this picture, I should probably just go ahead and write down the other things I remember about the people in my class. Top left was Lena: shy and very sweet. Next to her, with the big blonde hair, is Jessica Clifford-List. At the time I was very confused by the hyphenated last name. She was one of my best friends.
Next to her is Ricky. That poor boy involves one of my only memories of being involved in treating someone cruelly. It happened when we were sitting down for story time on the floor one day. I was with my friend Kristen, the beautiful blonde in the bold blue sweater, front and center. We sat on the floor, and Ricky came to sit in front of us. We saw that he was about to sit on a bug. He sat on the bug and squashed it. We thought it was hilarious. We did this little hand sign of legs walking and sitting and making a squashing noise. Ricky was wearing jeans, so we decided that at recess anyone who was wearing jeans had "bug disease." It was a big ordeal, in my mind. I don't know if Ricky knew what was going on, or if he remembers it. But I have always felt bad for being rude to him.
The tall African-American boy in the middle is William. He spit on my shirt at recess after we got in a war. It started off as harmless teasing, and then we started in on the underwear thing. (Did you do this too?)
I would say something like, "You wear pink underwear."
He would repy with something stinging like, "You wear Batman underwear!"
This went on for quite some time, and then I shouted out the straw that broke the camel's back. Apparently. "You wear purple underwear with flowers!"
And he SPIT ON ME. I was wearing a bright pink shirt with a picture of a bouquet of flowers on the front, and I just looked down at this glob of spit below my neck. Punk. I can't remember if there were any disciplinary actions taken against him. But GOSH, there should have been.
Then there's Daniella. Second row is Abby Shumaker, my other best friend, and then Michael Baumgartener. I had a small crush on him as well. Then the other Ricky, then Amanda, my other best friend. Bottom row...girl in the bright colored box shirt is Sandy. And that's all the names I remember. Oh, second grade. You were good to me. Minus the spit on my shirt, WILLIAM.