Teach
07-02-2008, 05:57 PM
Just the other day, I received a letter that reminded me that my 50th high school reunion was less than two years away. Yes, I had graduated in June, 1960. Yet, I’ve got another anniversary that’s got my high school reunion beat by two years. No, it’s not my golden wedding anniversary (my wife wasn’t a "child bride"); it’s my harness racing anniversary. Yes, it was just this month -- fifty years ago -- that I witnessed my first harness race. July 24, 1958. About two weeks later, I made my first pari-mutual bet at the then Foxboro (MA) Raceway.
Yet as I think back to both that fateful July day when I first visited the track and my upcoming 50th high school reunion, there’s a connection. You see...by my senior year in high school I was already a full-fledged gambler. But to gamble one needs money. Something I was usually in short supply of.
That’s when I became enterprising and started Walt’s History Homework Notes. It all started innocently enough. One day I was asked by one of my classmates if he could "borrow" (copy) my history homework. I obliged. Soon, others wanted copies of my history homework. Well, a lightbulb went off in my head. I decided to start a service.
In those days, what I’d do was to get sheets of carbon paper (no word processors or computers in those days, at least not PCs). I would then have an array of papers that looked like this: blank sheet, carbon, blank sheet, carbon, blank sheet, carbon... Well, you get the picture. As I recall, I could make about four or five copies on my typewriter. I would then sell my history homework to my classmates. I think I started off charging a nickel a piece, but I believed I upped the ante to a dime. I think, when I finished, I was making about two or three bucks a week.
You’re probably thinking, but the teacher must have known that someone is typing up several duplicate copies of his own homework. In most cases you’d be absolutely right. But not my teacher. Not "Sleepy Sam" Smith. "Sleepy Sam" started his career teaching high school history in the years after World War I. In 1960, he was about to retire. Apparently, he couldn’t have cared less. They didn’t call him "Sleepy Sam" for nuthin.
Oh, there were other sources of income: cutting lawns in the summer, raking leaves in the fall and shoveling snow in the winter. What I got was minuscule compared to what kids or services get in these inflationary times.
In addition, I worked as a clerk at a drug store. I started at .90 cents an hour. I got a raise to a buck about a month later.
Then, there were the weekly Scrabble matches. I played Scrabble against this wealthy (at least his parents were) neighborhood dude. He fancied himself quite a Scrabble player, but I out-nerded him about 80% of the time. That brought in a few bucks just about every week.
If I were really desperate, I could always turn to my younger brother, Larry. He had formed the Little Larry Loan Corporation. He’d loan money to neighborhood kids. My brother used to hang around the local variety store. Hey, the kid wants to buy a couple bottles of tonic (soda pop), but he’s short. My brother would proffer the kid a loan...with a small amount of interest due. It was no big deal. He was just providing a needed service. By the way, he never charged me interest and he never became a loan shark. Today, he’s a statistician.
As I think back to my upcoming reunions and anniversaries, I also think about all my youthful indiscretions. What we did to support our gambling habit.
Yet as I think back to both that fateful July day when I first visited the track and my upcoming 50th high school reunion, there’s a connection. You see...by my senior year in high school I was already a full-fledged gambler. But to gamble one needs money. Something I was usually in short supply of.
That’s when I became enterprising and started Walt’s History Homework Notes. It all started innocently enough. One day I was asked by one of my classmates if he could "borrow" (copy) my history homework. I obliged. Soon, others wanted copies of my history homework. Well, a lightbulb went off in my head. I decided to start a service.
In those days, what I’d do was to get sheets of carbon paper (no word processors or computers in those days, at least not PCs). I would then have an array of papers that looked like this: blank sheet, carbon, blank sheet, carbon, blank sheet, carbon... Well, you get the picture. As I recall, I could make about four or five copies on my typewriter. I would then sell my history homework to my classmates. I think I started off charging a nickel a piece, but I believed I upped the ante to a dime. I think, when I finished, I was making about two or three bucks a week.
You’re probably thinking, but the teacher must have known that someone is typing up several duplicate copies of his own homework. In most cases you’d be absolutely right. But not my teacher. Not "Sleepy Sam" Smith. "Sleepy Sam" started his career teaching high school history in the years after World War I. In 1960, he was about to retire. Apparently, he couldn’t have cared less. They didn’t call him "Sleepy Sam" for nuthin.
Oh, there were other sources of income: cutting lawns in the summer, raking leaves in the fall and shoveling snow in the winter. What I got was minuscule compared to what kids or services get in these inflationary times.
In addition, I worked as a clerk at a drug store. I started at .90 cents an hour. I got a raise to a buck about a month later.
Then, there were the weekly Scrabble matches. I played Scrabble against this wealthy (at least his parents were) neighborhood dude. He fancied himself quite a Scrabble player, but I out-nerded him about 80% of the time. That brought in a few bucks just about every week.
If I were really desperate, I could always turn to my younger brother, Larry. He had formed the Little Larry Loan Corporation. He’d loan money to neighborhood kids. My brother used to hang around the local variety store. Hey, the kid wants to buy a couple bottles of tonic (soda pop), but he’s short. My brother would proffer the kid a loan...with a small amount of interest due. It was no big deal. He was just providing a needed service. By the way, he never charged me interest and he never became a loan shark. Today, he’s a statistician.
As I think back to my upcoming reunions and anniversaries, I also think about all my youthful indiscretions. What we did to support our gambling habit.