As the eldest gel continues to navigate her way through her first semester of high school, I can’t help noticing that my paterfamilial dealings with her increasingly trigger memories of my own misspent yoot.  While I mostly have hazy, impressionistic recollections of my pre-teen years,  there are many more concrete entries of things said and done in high school apparently still filed away in the mental archives.

All I can say is lawd, what a cretin I was.

As unpleasant as suddenly confronting some long-lost episode from my past can be, I suppose it’s useful for purposes of keeping a sense of perspective.

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