Memories Found in the Roomba

I’ll bet I’m the only man who can make the house phone ring by pulling into my driveway. Every time I come home, my wife is on the phone and I’m getting these hand signals that make me feel like a pilot trying to land on an aircraft carrier. Actually, all I’m trying to do is land somewhere near the couch but I keep getting “waved off” by this “noncom” in the kitchen. Of course the dogs are glad to see me but we all end up out in the yard till she’s off the phone. This all started with the purchase of something called a Roomba. It’s this thing that crawls around the house like a swimming pool vacuum terrorizing the dogs and sucking up everything but dirt. If something is missing, chances are you’ll find it in the Roomba. It found a driver’s license of mine that was so old I had hair. The other day I found a note in the Roomba from my 6^th grade teacher Mrs. Harvey from Cherry Street School. The note read, “Leonard (that’s what she called me when my deportment was askew) needs to stop talking in class”. She sat us according to our 9-week average and I spent the entire year on the last row. Talking was the only way I could regain some of that self-esteem everyone worries about. One particular day, Mrs. Harvey, who was determined to improve my vocabulary even though she never let me speak, taught us the word, “procrastinate” and I figured if I found a way to use it at home it might defuse the grade/deportment situations, sixth grade boys were very creative. A normal day would find us practicing newly discovered “words” and smoking Cool cigarettes in the bathroom. On this day, an “enlightened” sixth grade boy named Ben Foots brought the word “prostitute” to the bathroom. Oh, were we excited to hear that one! It was a large word that was also a “dirty” word and Ben was just the kind of guy who would have the word correct. He was a “stickler” for proper spelling and pronunciation of these types of words, even though he was on his second sixth grade “trip”. We all appreciated Ben’s maturity in these matters and in fact, considered him “gifted.”

In 60’ they would let us take our report cards home from school, an interesting concept by today’s standards. It meant we were entrusted with the information. Mom was cooking and dad was standing around waiting to eat, as usual. I came in with my note from Mrs. Harvey along with an assortment of D’s in my academic subjects. It looked like another 9-weeks in “la la land” on the last row as I dejectedly held my report card out for inspection. Suddenly I remembered, THE “P’ WORD, my “ace in the hole”, surely it would impress both of them! Thank you Mrs. Harvey”! All I had to do was figure out a way to slip the word in and they would be so impressed, a pass on the grades was a possibility. Mom presented the perfect opportunity when she said, “all right you all, I’m not ready for supper, go find something to do.” Bingo! Nine weeks of abject failure, loafing and a load of D’s were about to become history. I jumped at the chance and said, “Mom, don’t prostitute, we’re hungry.”

Now, even though it was a large word, there was no way I was going to get a pass on this one. So there they were, two slack jawed people staring at a twelve-year-old boy who was trying to become invisible. My mother’s ears wouldn’t even process the word and in her state of denial, she just looked at dad and said, “Harmon, we’ve got to get that boy some glasses, he obviously can’t see the blackboard!”  I soon got my first pair of glasses and to this day I carry a pocket dictionary. Oh, Ben Foots? His mastery of the English language served him well. He became a politician.