Junior High, or Middle School as it’s now known, is a difficult time for most people. When I think back on my three years there, it feels like Midnight Express to me. Perhaps I’m over-dramatizing it, but not by much. It was a daily descent into hell.
People beating the turds out of each other… Burned-out teachers smoking with the (13 year old) students outside… Scary-ass holler trash making-out (and more) behind Dunbar Printing during lunch… Rampant shit-talking, zits, funkiness, awkwardness… It sucked.
But up on the third floor of the old gothic, Addams Family-looking school was a teacher named Mr. Yerrid. He was different from the other teachers, and his class was like a safe-house in the middle of a bunch of wild jackals and mental patients running rampant through the halls.
Mr. Yerrid was a WWII veteran, big and loud and boisterous. He looked like Hemingway, and you got the feeling he knew his way around a barroom. He didn’t tolerate any nonsense, but allowed us the opportunity to express ourselves, if we wanted. He was gruff but lovable, as they say.
He used a battered pool cue as a pointer, and was sometimes stretched-out on a couch in the rear of the classroom when we entered. He was a great story-teller, and really funny. He made history interesting, to a bunch of sarcastic and cynical little shits. Not an easy task.
And he seemed to care about us… That was the big difference. Most of the other teachers were just trying to get through the day, and it often felt like we were on our own inside that madhouse. But Mr. Yerrid was an ally, and a friend. He signed everybody’s yearbook as “Uncle Nate,” and that was perfect.
Mr. Yerrid died earlier this week, and here’s a tribute someone posted beneath his obituary at a newspaper website:
Uncle Nate will live forever and fondly in the hearts of the many lives he touched. He was a strong, brilliant man. A teacher who genuinely cared, who always knew how to level the playing field and make the young and insecure feel important and valued – whether it was in the classroom, or floating around Rock Lake Pool. He was an icon at DJHS, and we were the luckiest students in the valley. This is a great, sad loss.
And here are three quick Mr. Yerrid stories, that jump immediately to my mind:
One day he was talking about a woman who’d crashed her car in Charleston, and somehow ended up in the river. When rescue crews arrived, they had a hard time getting to the woman, because rubber-neckers were blocking the way.
Mr. Yerrid was ranting, and talking about “all those idiots out there, saying, ‘Did anybody get hurt? Did anybody get their arms cut off??'”
I thought that was hilarious, especially the final sentence, and busted out laughing. And he looked at me, narrowed his eyes, and hollered, “Do you think that’s funny, Kay? That’s not funny, that’s sick! …YOU’RE SICK!!”
I’m laughing right now, just thinking about it. He was always screaming at us, but we loved it. It wasn’t a mean-scream, it was just part of his personality.
On another day some kid jumped up from his seat, said he didn’t feel well, and promptly vomited into the trash can beside the teacher’s desk. In front of the whole class.
Needless to say, we began howling in protest, and Mr. Yerrid went off again. “What’s wrong with you people?? Can’t you see this boy is sick?! What’s the matter with you?” He was fully enraged by our conduct. Then he told the kid to go to the clinic, and said he’d be there to check on him in a few minutes.
The puker left, and after a few beats Mr. Yerrid asked, “Is he gone?” Then he said, in a conspiratorial voice, “Oooh, God. Did you see that? I think it was a baloney sandwich and bean with bacon soup…”
The last time I saw him was in 2001, when my mom was having surgery at a hospital in Charleston. Bill from WV and I were in the lobby, and Mr. Yerrid walked through.
We greeted him, and he stood and talked with us for a few minutes. It had been almost 25 years since we’d been in his classroom, but he was exactly the same. He acted like he remembered us, but I don’t know how that would be possible.
He told us he was there visiting someone (I can’t remember the details), who was suffering from “that cancer that starts in the ass.” And I busted out laughing again, just like with the woman who’d crashed into the river. But he refrained from screaming “YOU’RE SICK!!” again. Too bad. I wish I could’ve heard it one more time.
He was great, a true classic. I don’t know anyone who didn’t like him. Some of the other teachers might have been jealous of his popularity, I don’t know, but the students loved him.
In the comments section, please tell us about the good teachers you’ve encountered. Most of mine were mediocre, and a few were flat-out horrible. But Mr. Yerrid was a rare exception. Did you come across any of the good ones? Tell us about it, won’t you?
And I’ll see you guys again next time.
Have a great day.
Now playing in the bunker
Read Crossroads Road on your Kindle!
First?
I’m durnk.
holy cat fish 3rd and I read the post
Nope, no Mr. Yerrid’s here. Unfortunately.
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…..
One of the best teachers(professors) I ever had was in a philosophy class in the college days. Dr. Takei. Really opened up ways to look at things from a different perspective.
The other was from a high school mass media class, Mr. Townsend, although he allowed us to call him by his first name, Chuck. That right there is pretty cool. Basically all we did was listen to albums or watch movies then discuss.
He showed us the film Eraserhead. Talk about an eye opener! I don’t think any school anywhere could get away with showing students that movie today.
Mine was our High School English teacher. He had one leg (the missing unit was rumored to be wooden, that plastic crap would not do for him), had a “Shoot your TV sticker on this desk, drove a motorcycle to work on warm days, a VW van on cold days. The van was loaded down with liquor store boxes containing who knows what.
So as I said he taught English, but when I asked him about college he actually had a degree in Physics. The second part of the year we were done with books and instead watched movies – and took the hardest test over them. It was my first experience seeing Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Marathon Man, and Bridge over the River Kwai. He didn’t bother with the bullshiet, he just wanted us to learn, even if two girls where duking it out, the rest of us were expected to be paying attention.
Four or Five years after I graduated he took his own life, Hemingway style. A couple of years before that I worked a the local pharmacy and he had a prescription for painkillers, and a few days later I was visiting a friend at another pharmacy and he got another RX filled for another pain killer…guess he had a problem.
We had an Uncle Dave.
I’m an Uncle Dave. In fact I’m a great (or is it not so great) Uncle Dave. One day down the the line they’ll say…”What the fuck was it with him”?
High school was in the 70’s. I don’t remember any of it.
Wow, I made the top ten and I read the post.
I can remember a couple of Junior High teachers who were complete dicks but none that sound like your Mr. Yerrid.
High School however, we had a really good english teacher and a good chemistry teacher. Both are gone but not forgotten.
Midnight Express? What, did you suck tits through glass?
I wonder if he was related to the Nathan Yerrid who owned “The Barn” (beer joint)on MacCorkle Ave, down from UC in the 50’s and 60’s? I can’t imagine him as a teacher, but maybe this was his son.
If so that sure would explain a lot of things…..
LOL….he was a good guy.
The Barn was owned by Nathan Yerrid’s brother, Charley. But he was probably a common fixture there.
Tim
I went Stratton Junior High in Beckley during the early – mid 70’s. We had a teacher like that. Her name was Mrs. Peters. She taught biology. She took no crap from anyone, but was one of the best and funniest teachers ever. There was another teacher Mrs. Keesie, who taught Algebra. She was really mean on the outside, but a real softie if she let you get to know her. At Woodrow Wilson High School, Mike Tyree was my history teacher and wrestling coach. He was in his early 20’s, just out of college and only a couple of years older than his students. Totally cool.
Mr. Howard, rest his soul, was my 5th grade teacher and he told me I could be anything I want and I didn’t have to live in Sebring, FL when I grew up.
First day at Addams Family Jr. High, I didn’t know the protocol and was heading to my next class after lunch, not knowing that you couldn’t enter the building during lunchtime. Mr. Yerrid stopped me and yelled “Get the hell out of here, this is our time!” and went down the hall with Mr. Pacifico to the lounge.
Next day, he apologized and hoped I wasn’t offended by him yelling. Became my favorite teacher in Jr. High from that point on. Called me “Tom Dooley” a lot because I walked around staring at the ground a lot.
Didn’t remind me of Hemingway, but reminded me of Sid Haig (“The Devil’s Reject’s”), the actor.
Mr. Pacifico ran a close second to Uncle Nate. First day of 8th grade Science class Mr. P was teaching from his 2nd story classroom. He was going over all of the class rules and began discussing fire drill rules. He said, and I quote “If the alarm goes off and the door is closed, check the knob to see if it is hot. If it’s hot we can’t go out that way. We’ll just take King and Swisher and throw them out the window, then jump on top of them”. BTW, King and Swisher weren’t very “fit” and would make great airbags. Laughed my ass off! He immediately apologized to King and Swisher for using them as examples.
When we moved back to Dunbar there was only about 2 months left of the 9th grade. I was devastated about starting over again and Uncle Nate gave me some good advise that I’ve used most of my life. Then when I go to DHS I fell in love with Mrs Crum who we lost a few years ago to cancer. She was always there to listen or to give advise. We were lucky and didn’t know it!!!
At Dunbar Jr. I preferred Coach Ritchie Johnson , he taught WV Studies most days he would have us read our text books and he would put his feet up and fall asleep behind his newspaper. Needless to say we didn’t get much “readin:” done.
He was also the coach of the basketball team and during a afternoon ballgame at school he was running down the side of the court yelling directions to his players and his false teeth fell out , he swiftly scooped them up , popped them in and did not miss a beat ! RIP Coach.
Until I went to college there were only 3 professors who were memorable.
Lou manerino was a music teacher at curtis highschool. He fucked a few of his students and was asked to retire. He was a 2nd rate music teacher at best anyway…
Mr. Ferrari, same school. He was an english teacher, but would just sit in the room reading a newspaper until the bell rang. What a fucktard.
Then joe scro. The BEST teacher i’ve ever had. He actually teated us as humans. He let us watch spike lee and gangster movies in class. As long as we discussed it!
Teachers like that are super rare, but I think most students who don’t turn into doucherinos can pick them out,,,,
Most of my teachers seemed to be the kind that taught straight from the book. I think a really good teacher needs to be willing to color outside the lines to make a subject interesting. I had the paint by numbers types.
however…
I had a psychology teacher in high school who was drop-dead gorgeous. Early twenties…drove a Corvette…wore very short skirts. The guy sitting in front of me was on the football team and had the IQ of a vidalia onion. She would stop to help him with something in his book and be bent over right in front of me. That’s when I realized I was a butt and leg man. God bless her. I hope she has had a happy life.
Speaking of Hemingway, I worked with a guy we actually called “Papa” because of his uncanny resemblence.
I did 7th grade in a Catholic school and there is just nothing “cool” about nuns Even the lay teachers sucked.. 8th and 9th I was the new kid and don’t remember any teachers. Oh except for the drunk, Mrs. Knokes. I didn’t even have her. But I heard the stories of how she would try to rest her foot on the garbage can and end up going ass over teakettle down the length of the blackboard.
Man, I wish I’d had a a teacher like Mr. Yerrid. But I did have a couple of good ones: Eric Harrison (history, Brooklyn – he’d throw his little stone Buddha at whichever kid mouthed off) and John Beacco (social studies, western Massachusetts).
I think the terminology is a matter of place as well as time. In southern Berkshire, the school for grades 7 and 8 was called “Searles Middle School” even in 1973.
.
St. Albans Jr. High in the mid to late 70s had a pretty damn good crew teacher wise.
Skully, do you ever go to the Eldorado?
One lone math teacher stands out from middle school…Mr. McClain. He used to pace the classroom in between the desks during tests saying “you know the answer, you just don’t know you know the answer.” I think it inspired me to keep working on a few problems I might have otherwise given up on…hell, I might have even got some of those right when all was said and done. Is that how you teach perseverance? Maybe so.
Mrs Hawk was an ex-nun who taught physics and sometimes math.
She came in to my 9th grade algebra class one day to help a sub who didn’t understand algebra either and for that one brief shinning hour I fully grasped the lesson. Then our regular teacher came back and I resumed getting c’s and possibly d’s.
As a senior I had her for physics and she got me through the math without a problem. I sucked at algebra and geometry and yet never had a problem with the trig that we needed for physics.
That’s where I learned the difference between a good teacher and a bad one.
She did me a lot of favors over the years and let me work off detention hours setting up physics experiments in her class room after school for the next days lab.
What a great lady.
I had Coach Shatford (football DBs) for Algebra 2 in high school. He would scream and yell at us and question God why he got stuck with the “Resource” (slow-kid) Algebra class. It made us work that much harder because we thought we were always behind. As it turns out he also taught the “Honors” class and was running us on the same schedule they were- our class was six chapters ahead and did twice as much homework as the real “regular” algebra classes.
I’ve had a few really excellent teachers over the years, but mainly in High School.
Mr McClelland was a biology/anatomy instructor and made dissections hilarious and interesting. He was a chicken farmer and also worked as a NASA contractor during the summer. He was involved with a bunch of the missile programs during the 70’s and 80’s, and when doing dissections, wore a labcoat with his rank insignia from his military service on it. Always encouraged all us rural kids to hunt deer and even allowed us to come shoot groundhogs and raccoons on his farm.
Mr Henige was the freshman history teacher, and made everything relatable to us in current terms. Also happened to be the JV basketball coach and would relate the civil war to basketball rather readily. Mixed pop culture and history together, and was young enough to understand our points of view.
Mr Balogh, though, by far, was my favorite. Varsity basketball coach, president of the teacher’s union and overall badass…he taught my senior year “work-study” program, which was basically a life skills class. He would stick up for any of his students or players at any time, and would go to bat for you if you thought you weren’t being treated fairly. Maintained a snack shop in his classroom closet, and would randomly take our entire work-study class to breakfast for “showing up and staying sober”. Also wrote a letter of recommendation for me to go to college on a full scholarship that managed to woo enough attention to cover my whole first year. A real treat.
I’ve had a few good teachers over the years.
Mrs Divine, Fifth grade. Had an ability to get you involved in lessons, and didn’t get to the boredom stage.
Highschool English: Old crabby lady who’s name escapes me, but I can still picture her, but English was HER thing and somehow, having to read shakespeare wasn’t as boring. Of course, that may have been due to the stoner kid who sat beside me, class was after lunch and he had the distinct doobie aroma around him every day during that class.
Highschool Chemistry: Tom Kellet, and his famous “Whadda ya going to do? Learn it by osmosis through the head!?” whilst holding a text book against his head, or the head of the person who pissed him off by not being able to answer a simple question. Goofy in general. We blew up things regularily, by design, not accident (though there where a few of those as well).
College physics, unfortuneatly another name that escapes me at the moment, but he was genuine mad scientist in the Julius Sumner Miller sense. Actual physicist with a knack for being able to translate it into something that sunk in. There where a couple others that stand out, but names also escape me for them at the moment, but they simply fall into the ‘color outside the lines’ styles that made it fun or interesting to be in class.
Hey was this in London ontario?
Just curious. The story sounds familiar.
I loved that guy!
I remember Mr. Fulton, who taught chemistry at the high school I transferred to. I had been averaging a solid “D” in the class before we moved, but in his class I went to “A’s” straightaway. He had an excellent manner of teaching and looked for the world like Dom DeLuise…and had a sense of humor about like his, too! He was terrific.
I’ll never forget Mrs. Bennington, though. I had her for 8th grade English and she was old school even back in the 70’s! Everyone HATED her, but she taught English mechanics and usage like nobody’s business. I still use some of the techniques she taught and even though I hated it at the time, I am thankful to have had her.
I didn’t have any good teachers. I keep reading about these hot teacher women who fuck little boys. There weren’t any of those where I went to school. There are some woman that you proabably could have fucked, but you wouldn’t have wanted to. No Debra Lafaves hanging around, that’s for sure.
We did have a coach who taught Social Studies and PE classes. Several of us arranged to have two of his classes back to back at the end of the day when we were Seniors. We spent lots of time fishing in his little boat, and drinking beer. So that was fun.
I had Mr. Potts for history & social studies. He could recite Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘The Raven’ by heart. He’d turn the lights out and there would be raking of fingernails across the board. It was awesome, except for the nails on the chalkboard. It kina fit though…
My high school Government & Politics teacher introduced us to the music of the 60s and 70s, read us beatnik poetry and played Jeopardy with us to study for tests. He also made us watch the evening news for homework.
My high school English teacher would make us memorize entire paragraphs from whatever we were reading, then perform it in front of the class to make sense out of the topic. “The Odyssey” was a lot of fun… [sarcastic]
There were others, but those 2 stick out. To be honest, they helped balance out teachers like Mr. Worster, who used to yell “Yer lazy! Ye DO NUTHIN! Yer gunna live on WELFARE!” any time we asked a question or couldn’t solve a math equation. I loathed him.
Mr Worster now sounds like Fat Bastard in my head. Thanks!
In truth, he was (is?) about 5’6″, rail thin, ex-military and a total WANKER.
The above rant was also said in a Deep, Deep, Maine Yankee Drawl.
Even my dad (the Native American Mr. Rogers) can’t stand the guy. Almost 25 years later, the mere mention of Mr. Worster makes Dad turn beet red while he sputters, “He is SUCH a….JERK!”
“Jerk” is a swear to my dad, which makes it even funnier.
Mr. A (Augenstein) parts of 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grade.
Mr. Matheny – Algebra 2 and Trig
Mr Luthy – Chemistry and advanced chemistry
Stories may come later.
OK, the heat and humidity must be getting to me. Someone explain the significance of the soup can.
The type of soup is referenced in the update.
Bean with Bacon Soup…
D’oh!!! and I really did read the whole thing. It’s too damn hot for May.
I worked 4 hours in my yard today. Backyard hadn’t been cut, and was about 3 feet tall. Got it all done, but lots of sweating. Yea, it’s too damn hot for May.
I had Mr. Dennehy for Religion class in 9th grade. He did a whole lesson on the deeper meaning of “Come Sail Away” by Styx.
Joe
WOW – you had Brian Dennehy as a techer? Cool.
In all my years of school only one good teacher. The rest were burnouts, average, or trying too hard to be ‘with it’…the kind that played Simon and Garfunkle or It’s a Beautiful Day during class and tried to get the students to sit in a circle and discuss the lyrics. GAAH.
The one excellent teacher I had was Mr. Redpath. He taught Honors English. Imagine an American John Cleese. Not the early, Monty Python Cleese, but Cleese as he is now…bitter, sarcastic, brilliantly well spoken, with absolutely no respect whatsoever for his audience. That was Mr. Redpath. Despite his utter contempt for his classes he lived and breathed his subject and was a captivating speaker. He actually made Beowulf interesting; and to this day I still remember Grimms’ Law.
The worst was Mr. McPartland. He’d spend his 20 minute midmorning break out hotboxing in his VW Beetle and then show up to class reeking of dope. Typically he’d spend the class staring out the widow, or giving us Remedial Math kids an Algebra lecture, or just completely forget what he was talking about midway through a chalk talk and then fall asleep on his desk. He was could be counted on to fall out of his chair at least once a week. Once he even fell over the AV projector stand and managed to end up underneath it with filmstrip unspooling all over the place. If you could make it through that long, long 45 minutes of pathetic for the whole quarter he’d ace you, though.
I had a computer teacher like that in highschool. She became like a mother figure to me after my freshman year, and we are still friends to this day. She would always listen to my stupid highschool girl problems, and listen to all the latest gossip and just smile. She was always the best. I always went out of my way to get into her classes and always aced them all because I had so much fun. She’s always is trying to get me to go out for margaritas, I feel bad because we’ve never gotten the chance to go. Ben and I were walking into a Red Lobster and she saw me through the window and started banging on it, making all kinds of ruckus.
I also had a REAL bitch of an English teacher who was ALWAYS up my ass about everything. She would randomly call on me to answer her questions and if she didn’t hear the answer she wanted she would do the ‘Pft!’ , roll her eyes and go ‘Yeah, anyway…anyone else?’ GOD she pissed me off. After a long year of bullshit from this Debil woman, I walked into her room one day to go through another hour of hell, and she decided that my shirt was innappropriate. In highschool, I had barely an A cup, and the shirt I was wearing was a v-neck. There was nothing wrong with it, she was just a whore. So in front of everyone, she said, ‘That shirt is innappropriate!’ And would look at me over her spectacles with her arms crossed over her butch man rack. So I got up and walked out. I was already in the hall way and she followed me and said, “Where do you think you’re going?” I yelled, “I am going to go home and change my innappropriate shirt” And I did. I took the rest of the day off. I hate that woman.
“Butch man rack”. I’m gonna really try to work that into a conversation very soon.
MY favorite teacher in highschool was Mr. Teasdale. He was the best history teacher ever and we all respected him very much.
One day in September there was some shit going on out the window and he went to check it out.
Goddamn if it wasn’t army paratroopers landing in the field!
He asked the lead guy what the problem was and was promptly gunned down.
God damned Russians killed my history teacher.
Nice Red Dawn reference!
WOLVERINES!!
Ooh. Did you take to the hills with Jennifer Grey and Leah Thompson? OH MY
I asked those bitches to do the dishes and got shit for it.
My high school Art teacher was one of the Good Ones. Mr. Lou (shortened version of his last name) regularly took us on field trips to the Carnegie Museum of Art in PGH, and didn’t care that half of us took off for Jerry’s Used Records in Oakland as soon as the bus parked. He knew what we were up to; I think he just wanted us to see the “big city.” I haven’t seen him in a long time, hope he’s still kicking.
Mr. Harvey was one of a kind – taught a class called “Decisions” (life choices, etc) for 9th graders, that takes guts. He had been in Vietnam and would talk to us about it. He actually talked to us as humans and made everyone feel like he really listened to you. I also had a history teacher Mr. Mayab who could tell a story like no other and always told us about his wife “Fang”. They were awesome.
Mrs. Whipple (freshman english) kept vodka minitures in her desk and the band director fucked my girlfriend. Hey..I’d a fucked his given the chance. R.K. Salisbury (latin teacher for three years) was my “Mr. Chips”.
I was fortunate to have a lot of great teachers, but one that really stood out was my HS band teacher, Mr. Oliveri. I mad a lot of bad choices in & out of school, but he never let that effect how he treated me in class. I learned more from him about music, and life in general, than anything else in school.
Not one teacher stands out as being exceptional. Not one. Which is fine with me. The less I remember about highschool the better off I am. I get a loose balloon knot every time think about it….just as if I’m walking through those doors all over again. I’ll be under my desk sucking my thumb now if anyone needs me….
You and me both, Bikerchick!
You’re gonna need a bigger desk
dto: No doubt. Are you joining us?
He better be implying that he’s joining us. Otherwise he’s calling us fat!! :O
Highschool was the worst experience of my life. Hated those years. I recently looked through my yearbook – witht he exception of maybe 3 people, I have no frickin’ clue who signed it.
So…will you be joining us under the desk?
Change of venue….meet me under the kitchen table….we’re gonna need the room.
Sounds good. I’ll bring the Wesson.
I’m there!
I’m gonna need more Wesson. I hit the trifecta
The teacher that immediately comes to mind is Mrs Lundrigan, who taught a section of advanced placement english while I was a senior in high school. She let me argue with her when my viewpoint on a literary matter didn’t match hers. Taught me that there is not always a right answer, and validated my intellectual curiosity in a way that most teachers could not. I realize now how difficult teaching is as a chosen vocation, and that most teachers are just struggling to get through their lesson plan. I can only imagine how difficult it is for a teacher to ‘reach’ a student in this day and age of teaching to the standardized tests mandated by bureaucrats that have no idea what it is like in an actual classroom. I wonder if there are fewer truly great teachers these days as a result. Sad.
“I’m gonna eat the chard right out your yard”
I had several excellent teachers, Ms. Collison-Middle School history was very cool and made a big difference in a lot of kid’s lives.
My Orchestra director in High School went to prison for screwing one of his students long after I graduated. I do not believe she was the first, either.
If I ever meet Mrs. Jackson who taught my fifth grade class in Lake Jackson, TX, in the ’80’s I will tell her to her face what a despicable human being she is. Bitch is probably dead now anyway.
This reminds me of a teacher I would like to hurt now, but he is probably 1000 years old by now or dead.
During basketball tryout, fucker yelled at me “Get yer thumb out of your ass and play basketball!:
I believe Bill from WV threatened to kick this guy’s ass in gym class also.
Coach Young, may you rot in hell, along with Bin Laden, whose 72 virgins more than likely are all dudes.
He asked me if I’d like to step outside during an assembly after I told him he’d be wise to not put his hands on me again. I probably would have taken him up on it, but decided I’d rather graduate from Dunbar High than Cabell Alternative School.
Hate to burst your bubble but I saw this old prick in Dunbar Krogers about six months ago. Christ he looks the same!
When I was in his class he was up at his podium ranting on about something and he started grimacing in pain , turns out he was passing kidney stones. He missed a week or so and we were fucking thrilled . We hoped he was in agony.
Also we was obsessed with Mussolini ….why I have no clue.
Sorry for you loss, Jeff. These daily reminders that “at the end of it all” is just “the end of it all” are getting to be too much.
Wow, what a picture. I just told my missus that I had been jonesing for some campbell’s bean with bacon soup. It’s all part of the lattice of coincidence
Here’s a Facebook page dedicated to Mr. Yerrid:
http://on.fb.me/k69GKZ
So, Jeff…did you date Becky A.Y.S.? I’ll not post her full name from the page here, in deference to whatever privacy she might still have on the interwebs, but she posted on the page on 5/23/11 at 5:51 pm. A hottie in Dunbar?
OK, so I’m a pig.
CADude,
You forgot to add “…what of it?”.
Just trying to keep an eye on things. At this time.
.
Mr Booz (real name) – German 1 teacher. Made us LIVE the language. Totally nutso energetic tisch-hopping teach. The excitement of first year was enough t carry me through 4 more years of it.
And now I can’t remember any of it. Stupid bourbon.
That’s why I drink vodka. It’s good for the memory, makes me smarter…and if you drink it, it makes me better looking.
Out on the left coast, we had some great teachers in Redmond, WA (back in the days when there were more cows that people.
Mr. Heber, my elementary school priniple was probablly close to being like your Uncle Nate. He was a WWII veteran who got his foot blown off bt a land mine. He was gruff, but always fair, and we all had a sense that he really, really cared about us.
Mrs. Solgren, Junior High algebra teacher. An old woman who taught well, and was my soulmate in humor. One of those true gems who could take a joke, then hand it right back to the smart ass 7th graders.
And finally, Mr. Johns at Redmond High Scool. Taught us a lot, plus regaled us with stories of High School metal shop accidents, and had some of the greatest catch phrases in the world when he’d yell at our class of hooligans!
.
Great Sports Headline
OK…links don’t work right for some reason. Try this:
http://cwahart.com/img/tiger.jpg
That is fucking classic. The Post has had a lot of great headlines like that in the past.
The NY Post is one step above The National Enquirer. And I’m probably insulting the National Enqurier
Sure…I understand that. But it’s a great double entendre don’t you think?
I think!!!
Plus, I hate Tiger and the headline is awesome.
I only hate him because he owes me money.
Oh absolutely! They pride themselves on their covers.
Seeing as we’re probably not getting an update today, here’s one of those lists offering up eateries in every state that are supposedly worth traveling great distances for a good face stuffing:
http://newyork.grubstreet.com/2011/05/51_foodie_destinations.html#photo=1×00072
Discuss.
I’d love to discuss, but that ‘Read the List’ link doesn’t… um, you know… do anything.
Having said that, I have a couple of nominees for here in northern Virginia: For the best burger ever, Ray’s Hell Burger in Rosslyn (hint – go to “Ray’s 2”; they have beer). For those who like the Very Expensive Fancypants Traditionalist Experience, the Inn at Little Washington is excellent. (hint – in for a penny, in for a pound: get a room).
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http://newyork.grubstreet.com/2011/05/51_foodie_destinations.html
Try it from here. Works for me. Dunno what’s going on.
Nope, no love. I sent them a “pithy” email about broken links. I expect no reply, and certainly not over the long weekend. But thanks anyway.
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Fudge knockers! Well, the list was pretty much full of loopy anyway. Except it does mention the Roadkill Cook-Off that Chuck is talking about below.