Get Up and Go To School

Man, I can't count how many times I've heard that one. It never failed that just as I was drifting off in a rowboat towards a deserted island full of hoola hoola girls that my dream was shattered by the harsh reality that it was time to get up and go to school.

So I rubbed my weary eyes to adjust the focus on the reality channel and the very moment my warm feet hit that cold hardwood floor my fantasy shattered into a million tiny fragments. Like it or lump it, this was my life.

I have this funny notion that the guy who invented the alarm clock must have hated getting up in the morning so he designed a contraption to ruin everyone else's day from the very start. He really hit the nail on the head when he came up with the idea of shattering your dreams with an obnoxious clang. Follow that with the sound of your mother shouting "Get up and go to school" in your left ear and you've got yourself a bona fide Everett school day morning.

It seems like only yesterday that we were all sitting out on my front steps knocking down one of Richie's slushes when Mikey asked, "Who ya got for homeroom this year?"

"Oh no, don't tell me you've got Blake. Man, are you in trouble. I once saw her rip a kids arm off and beat him with the wet end."

What is it with you kids from Everett? How come you always have to frighten the daylights out of us smaller kids by making us think the teacher you had last year was the Godzilla of the century? Give us a break for crying out loud. Life is hard enough without you adding to the mix.

So with that hanging over my head already I'm hopping from one foot to the other banging on the bathroom door cuz I gotta pee my brains out and my sister won't come out of the bathroom. You think Grand Central station is busy? You ain't seen nothing till you've seen my house on a school morning.

The only bright and cheery morning person in our house was my dad and he left for work an hour or so before we got up to get ready for school. Now you know why he was always bright and cheery in the morning. My mother, on the other hand, was like a raving lunatic. Oh don't get me wrong, it wasn't her fault, it was ours. Let me show you why.

As soon as my sister opened her eyes she booked it into the bathroom and locked the door. God only knows what was going on in there, but whatever it was it took an hour or so. Then she'd come out and stick her face an inch away from yours and ask, "Do my eyes look alright?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, how do my eyes look?"

"They look evenly spaced on either side of your nose like they're supposed to. Now get out of my way before I pee my pants."

As soon as I closed the door behind me somebody else started banging on the door shouting, "Hurry up in there."

"Hurry up? I didn't even pull my fly down yet."

"Ma, Paul won't let anybody else use the bathroom!"

"Paul, get out of there and give somebody else a chance."

"Don't tell me I used up my five and half seconds of bathroom privileges already? Man, where does the time go when you're having fun?"

"You better not be late for school this morning, buddy, or you're gonna catch it good when your father gets home."

Ever try to pee while a crowd of people bang on the bathroom door shouting threats at you? What a way to start your day, I'm telling ya. And as soon as they can hear the water running in the sink they shout, "Ma, Paul's all done going to the bathroom and now he's just playing in the sink."

"Paul, get out of there. You've had plenty of time. You're gonna be late for school."

By this stage of the game I'm way beyond trying to reason with this unruly crowd so I skip all formalities and go straight into my good old Everett "piss em off" act. I turn the water on really slow to wash up so they can't hear a sound. That way they'll think I'm not doing anything.

Keep in mind that I've already over extended my usual five and a half second allotment by a whopping minute and a half. It only takes another three or four seconds of that act before they absolutely lose it altogether.

"What are you doing in there?"

"That's none of your business. That's why there's a door on the bathroom so you won't know what I'm doing."

"Ma, Paul's still in the bathroom."

"Paul, what in God's name is going on in there?"

I'm telling ya, as God is my judge, that that is exactly what happened to me on any given school morning if I spent more than five and a half seconds in the bathroom. For some funny reason nobody thought I deserved any bathroom privileges. What is it with me?

There was so much noise and confusion going on in my house on any given school morning that I couldn't think straight. My mother had the volume on the TV turned up so loud that all you could hear was Bob Copeland trying to shout the weather report over three kids running back and forth yelling, "Where's my socks?" "Does my tie look straight?" And "Ma, Paul's still in the bathroom."

Girls have a harder time getting ready for school than us guys do. Besides making sure that every single hair is in place and plucking their eyebrows, they've got to color coordinate their outfit to their shoes and their pocketbook. I'm not kidding ya. Ask any kid who had a sister. They'll tell ya. Oh yeah, and they've gotta keep checking their legs to make sure that they don't have a run in their nylons. Whatever that is.

All us guys gotta do is make sure our shirttails aren't sticking out through our zipper and we're nectar. Our clothes always match. You can see that just by looking at us. Our shirts go from our neck to our waist. Our pants go from our waist to our ankles. And our shoes and socks cover the rest. That to us is a perfect match.

That is all so true for most of us, but it's not for everybody. My brother, Carl, was so neat and clean that he scared me sometimes. On our way out the door he'd stop and check his reflection in the window to make sure his string tie lined up perfectly with the buttons on his shirt. My string tie was still balled up into a knot in my pocket. I couldn't bare the thought of wrapping that noose around my neck until the last bell rang.

Carl was a teacher's dream come true. You'd never believe how many times I've had teachers look at me in utter disgust and say, "You're nothing like your brother." It really ticked them off when I'd come back with, "Thank God for that."

When Carl was still up at the Horace Mann with me he'd dutifully stand in line at attention, with his lunch box, mind you, until the bell rang. I, on the other hand, would throw my brown-bagged lunch on the ground to hold my spot in line so I could run off to play punch ball in the playground with the other kids. Carl would yell out to me, "I'm telling ma you're not standing in line like you're supposed ta."

Ask any Everett kid who grew up with me. When did Paul Huffman ever do what he was "supposed ta?" I'm an artist for gawd's sake. Trying to make an artist follow superficial rules is like trying to cage a wild animal. It doesn't work. It's not "supposed ta."

I always got a big kick out of those "only" kids who wished they had a brother or a sister. Man, I had a couple I was willing to trade off after just one typical morning of trying to get ready for school. Raise your hand if you grew up in a house full of kids and never once wished you were an only child. Anybody? I didn't think so.

By the time you're in the sixth grade your mother dispenses with that peck on the cheek she used to bend down to give you before you ventured off into that cold cruel world outside. Now she just looks back over the arm of that big comfy chair and says, "Have a nice day."

She's not fooling me one bit. I know what she really means. What she really means is, "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

Now I know what you're expecting. You're expecting me to come down hard and heavy on the Everett public school system - right? Well, you couldn't be further from the truth if you tried because today I'm gonna focus on what I did like about going to school in Everett. Fooled ya, didn't I?

Right off the bat I can tell ya that what I liked best about going to school in Everett was recess. That and lunch. Now if they had graded us on lunch and recess I'd have been an honor student from the very start.

Another thing I liked about school were the fire drills. Those were exciting. They were always when you least expected them, and they got you outside in the fresh air away from the dreariness of your average school day.

I also liked how the teachers got all flustered when the fire alarm went off. They'd moan about how this awful inconvenience is disrupting our lesson. As if they're gonna get any sympathy from us - right?

The next thing you know they're running back and forth waiving their arms shouting, "Single file, everybody, single file. If this was a real fire you'd all be burned to death." Now that's a pleasant thought to implant in a young impressionable mind, wouldn't ya say?

Seconds later they had us all lined up out on Foster Street. Here we are standing outside in the fresh air, and they're telling us not to talk or turn our heads. After all, this is not recess and you're not "supposed ta" have any fun. This is like a giant game of "two feet off the mudguard." There's no laughing, or talking, or showing your teeth.

Needless to say, we did talk, we did turn our heads, and we did suffer the consequences. God only knows how many times I got pulled out of line for not following the rules to the letter of law. And the lectures that followed were an absolute riot.

According to Miss Martinelli, because I talked in line, every other kid in my class would have burned to death had this been an actual fire. I fail to see the logic, but there it is. The whole time she stood there shouting and waiving her finger in my face I wanted to ask, "If I should catch on fire may I talk and turn my head? Because if not, I may as well forget all about that whole "stop, drop, and roll" routine. I can't imagine trying to pull that off without turning my head.

My sister had a "bomb scare" once up in Everett High. Of course, back in our day that's all it was, was a "scare." I'm not complaining, believe me. At least you can run from a fire. A bomb is another whole ball game altogether.

Oh, and remember when the airplanes started to break the sound barrier? You'd be sitting at your desk nonchalantly reading out loud to the rest of the class when all of a sudden you'd hear this great big "BOOM!" The whole room would shake and the windows would rattle. I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time it happened, but like every thing else, we got used to it after awhile and never paid it any more mind.

Another thing I liked about elementary school were those Coronet Films they used to show us. They were always ripe for a good belly laugh. Those were the instructional films that taught you how to be a good citizen, an ideal student, and how to survive a nuclear holocaust.

Crawling under your desk when you see that mushroom cloud off in the distance sounds like a real good idea to me. That way all of your DNA will stay in the same general vicinity when you vaporize. That'll increase your odds of being all in one piece when you arrive at the pearly gates.

For those of you who would like to relive the experience of watching those Coronet Films again, the Prelinger Archives host hundreds of them on their web site and you can freely download them. They're in the public domain so you can legally do whatever you'd like with them. You'll find the Prelinger Archives HERE.

Some of these films are quite large in file size. Don't even bother if you're on a dialup modem. It'll take you a month of Sundays just to download one movie. Mpeg video files will play fine on any computer running Windows2000 or above.

If you're running WindowsME or Windows98 (second Edition) you'll need a codec. Rather than to confuse you with all kinds of techno jargon, all you need to do is download and install the "free" VLC Media Player. You can get that right HERE.

There were many other little incidentals that I also liked about school. I absolutely loved those Lindy ballpoint pens. You must remember those. They were those round blue pens with the little groves running along the length to give you a better grip. And they sported the little logo of a seal balancing a beach ball on the end of his nose.

Needless to say, that's another quality writing instrument that has gone the way of all flesh. You'd be hard pressed to find it's equal no matter how much you're willing to spend.

Speaking of quality, how well do you remember that white composition paper that the teachers used to guard with their lives? Being an artist and a writer at heart, I absolutely cherished each and every sheet of that paper I got my hands on.

If you ever looked closely at one of those sheets of paper you'd have seen the fine linen texture smoothly woven right into it. You could feel that texture as you wrote. It gave just enough resistance so as to allow you complete control over your penmanship. I know it sounds as if I'm going a little over the edge about a simple sheet of paper, but just take a run down to Charrette's and see what they'll charge you for one sheet of that kind of paper today.

You know what else I loved? I loved those West Lynn Creamery milk bottles we got for lunch. You remember those, don't ya? They were those bowling pin shaped glass bottles with that white paper cover over the stopper. I'm talking about the cardboard stopper that fit down inside the mouth of the bottle. On that stopper was the image of West Lynn Creamery's logo bearing the words "West Lynn Creamery, Lynn, Massachusetts, circulating the logo.

Okay, now here's the challenge. If you "google" West Lynn Creamery, you're not going to find their logo. Yes, of course I've tried. What you will find is lot of litigation against them in the early 1990's, plus the fact that they've been swallowed up by Garelick Farms and therefore no longer exist. So to my knowledge the West Lynn Creamery logo has vanished from the face of the planet. If you've got a copy please share it with us.

Which reminds me, people have sent me things over the past couple of months and I've lost some of them due to a fatal disk error. So I'll be getting in touch with a few people to ask them to resubmit. I've been working diligently on some new updates for our web sites so bear with me from time to time cuz I'm only one person, okay?

So anyway, just because we don't actually have a copy of the original West Lynn Creamery logo does not mean that it's lost forever. I'll explain that.

People are always commenting on how phenomenal my memory is. Well, the truth is, my memory is no more phenomenal than yours. I kid you not. We all have a photographic memory. Most people just don't take the time to develop the film. That's all. We'll try a little experiment so I can show you what I mean.

Close your eyes and picture yourself sitting at your desk back in elementary school. I can see it already. Tommy from High Street is sitting right in front of me, and Elizabeth from Broadway is right beside me. Nicky from Elm Street is sitting behind her, and right behind him is Tommy from Hall Ave. In the next row over is Linda from Chestnut Street, Eddie from Franklin Street, Glen from Pleasant View Ave, and Nelson Gray, who sadly enough, no longer walks among us.

I can name just about every other kid in that class and I don't even have a class photo to go by. This is all from memory. And no, I did not forget Paul from Hillside Ave, Dean from Foster Street, or Ann Marie from Russell Street. So there.

Now go ahead, open your eyes and tell me who's sitting beside you. And please don't give me that "Oh, but that was so very long ago" routine. I don't care how long ago it was. These are the very kids you saw just about every day of your life growing up in Everett. These are the kids you shared the best years of your life with. These are your best friends.

Take a look around the room. What do you see? Remember those giant slate blackboards? It's amazing how none of us ever choked to death on all that chalk dust, especially when the teacher used to send us outside to clap them together to get all of that dust out of them.

Hey, how about those great big pencil sharpeners mounted on the windowsills? Remember those? They had a wheel on them so you could dial to the width of your pencil. They were so old you nearly wore your arm to a frazzle trying to sharpen your pencil, but at least you got to get up and look out the window without getting in trouble for it.

The harder you concentrate on conjuring up these images in your mind's eye - the more the memories will come sharply into focus. Like all those papers and drawings the teacher strung up along the top of the blackboard. And those inkwell holes in the top of our desks that served absolutely no purpose whatsoever. And all that chewing gum stuck under your chair. And that giant globe every teacher had that she only pointed at once with her pen during the entire school year to show you Magellan's route around the Cape of Good Hope.

Now that you're here, bend down and take a look at the elaborate detail in the cast iron supports that bolted your desk to the floor. Amazing what you remember, isn't it? Okay, you're in the zone now. Lets go get what we came here for.

Picture this. It's lunchtime and you're sitting at your desk. Now you're reaching down to get your lunch bag next to your foot. The very moment you unwrap that wax paper to take a big giant bite of your baloney and cheese sandwich you catch a glimpse of that milk bottle out of the corner of your eye. Where in the heck did that come from?

You can see it, can't you? Okay, all together now, let's peel that paper cover off and look right down at that stopper. What do you see?

Oh man, do I have to do everything for you people? You better pay close attention cuz there's gonna be a quiz on Friday. Okay, let me tell you what I see.

The logo is printed in red and it's encompassed in a circle. Around the outer edge of that circle it clearly says "West Lynn Creamery of Lynn, Massachusetts." Inside of that is the logo.

The logo is a woodcut type line illustration of a building with about four smokestacks reaching up into the clouds. It just so happens to be a rendering of the West Lynn Creamery building as it stands on the Lynnway. You can see it now, I'm sure.

To the best of my abilities, that is the image I'm seeing in my mind's eye. I do make mistakes sometimes, believe it or not. I'm going to be embarrassed to no end if I find out I'm way off base on this West Lynn Creamery logo thing. It has happened. Nobody's perfect. You already know I'm not.

The truth is, your mind's eye is the most powerful tool in your arsenal. No matter what it is, or how long ago it was, if you looked at it enough times it's waiting for you somewhere in the back of your mind just in case you ever need it.

Carol taught me a good trick. If you can't seem to get a hold of something that's right on the tip of your tongue - take the time to go through the alphabet and nine times out of ten, you'll come up with it. Try it, it works.

Another reason I have such a vivid memory about growing up in Everett is because those were the best years of my life. And you made them happen. For you see, what this journey is really all about is not as complicated as it seems. This is just one step in a journey of a thousand miles.

The most important elements of this journey are those good times that we share with each other. So don't be afraid to reach out to each other. We need each other. That's what it's all about. It's as simple as that.

We have so much to be thankful for. We are so lucky to be making this journey surrounded with our lifelong friends. And we were lucky enough to have begun this journey in Everett. It wasn't the landscape that made Everett so special. It was the people. People like you.

That's what makes each and every one of us so special. That, plus the fact that "We're from Everett!"