MAY 22: Practiced for commencement. Exams.
MAY 23: Mowed at Nanny's.
MAY 24: Went to Baccalaurete.
MAY 25: Took last exams. Gave Fleming story.
MAY 26: Stayed home and lazed. A timeless day.
MAY 27: John's first day off [of school]. Worked on garage.
MAY 28: Just worked. A hard, rotten day.
MAY 29: Got report card. Got "Spell of Conan," "Gulliver's
Travels," "Complete Works of Shakespeare," "The Illustrated
Sherlock Holmes Treasury." Graduated.
MAY 31: Sunday. Went to work 6 PM-10 PM. A pretty good day.
When I say I graduated, I mean I went to commencement. There was no prom for me, a rather solitary and gloomy teen. I celebrated by feeding my pretensions, with the fancy display editions of Shakespeare and Sherlock Holmes subjects I later grew into to a much deeper degree.
Mowing the enormous lawn at Nanny's (I don't know the exact acreage) was a constant task in those days, usually preceded by a back-breaking clean-up of fallen branches, and the pittance we were paid hardly justified the labor. "But she's family! At least she pays you something!" But she also took it out in psychological nastiness that, if 'family loyalty' were to be figured into the deal, shouldn't have been there.
Our visit to the coast was the only celebration of graduation I had. Phil, although of my year, was Mike's best friend. I remember we listened to the Beatles (a huge obsession with Mike, John, and Phil) mainly because some passing tools mocked us by chanting "I wanna hold your hand!" We answered, in chorus, "We wanna kick your ass!" Mrs. Pete's was a beach tradition. Good times, good times.
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