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!