Back in my early college days, I had a summer job doing
clerical work. I worked with a group of men, all older than myself, and most of
them characters, in one way or another. I remember that one of them, when asked
if he knew so-and-so, would usually reply “Oh yes, we went to separate schools
together.” It was good for a silly little chuckle.
Fast forward to now. Even though I live in the same town I
grew up in, I rarely see or spend time with people I grew up with. This is for
a variety of reasons, the main one being I’m just not that social.
This week when I went to get my hair done, a classmate of
mine was at the salon. I’m not sure if she recognized me, but we all chatted
about current events. I pulled out my knitting as I always do, and eventually
the conversation turned to knitting. What was I making? Why so many needles?
Who else here knits, or used to knit?
My classmate then said that she remembered learning to knit
in school, but hadn’t done it for a long time. I looked at her in wonder. They
taught knitting in school? In our small school? Was it in Home Ec class, or in
Art class? I didn’t take either one. It’s not like we had all that many choices
for electives back then. I looked at this woman, and pondered the different
paths our high school lives must have taken. In a class of just over 100
students, she had been a cheerleader. I had been in music and drama. We must
have had some classes together, but I couldn’t remember for sure. She learned
to knit years before I did, and I never even knew I had the opportunity to
learn.
Then I realized it – we went to separate schools together!
