If you would indulge me just a moment; I would like to tell you a story. I went to a Catholic school. Seventh grade through the ninth. (How my mother managed to pay for this I will never know) Any way, her name was Sister Henreala. “She was cool”, but she was also the strictest most (seemingly cruel) Sister there. She was a huge foot ball fan and would talk the talk with the boys. (Before the morning bell rang) then it was all business! The group of boys who had just been talking ball (with their shirts UN tucked and shoes UN done) now received a very “stern” lesson in the proper way dress! That bell must have really hit her switch? (We went through this morning ritual daily) My favorite thing about her was the way she would chase kids (me included) down the hall and catch us too! Then we were slammed up against the lockers and held there for yet another lesson in hall way etiquette. I can here her voice in my mind as I am writing this. (HIP, HIP, NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!!) But it was already too late, by then she already had the back of you’re shirt. “Stern but fun, mean but caring”. She was the most beloved teacher at the school, hands down! She was in her seventies then. I talk to people (alumni) in their fifties (that still remember her in that loving way); just like me.

(Bill)