M. Mendes

Now I can’t for the life of me remember how the catholic school kids like myself were meeting up the public-school kids. Funny how you pay taxes in one area of the city but end up sending your kid to school someplace else. It wasn’t that far away but still we were all finding each other and having a ball doing it (Penny candy store? Mini mall? Pizza joint? Ice skating rink?)    
        
Actually, (don't laugh now) I think we picked each other up on the street corner in route to the local convenient (like a stray cat); attempting to take each other home-"Mama, look at what I found and can I keep it?" Expecting a reward.      
         
You lived on top of a huge store front a few blocks away, where I use to come over to visit you and those bologna sandwiches (with chips and a pop we shared) your Mom (you made that; interesting I didn’t want to stare though. I knew everybody’s mother wasn’t going to look like whatever but) use to make for us. I’d get there and holler at up at the window (one good hard time) for you to come down to get me. Occasionally, you would head me off at the window. What I remember about you most besides dimples, being long, an only child and a tomboy (just like me; I had short hair though) was your intro “My last name is Mendes; you spell it with an s not a z.” She made sure I knew she was Greek and not Spanish. Go head, girl (and that framework was acting a fool, in the summer heat; let me tell ya). “Got it.” She was just letting me know but she sounded so elitist when she said it. I had to stop myself from laughing and I just figured out why.              
       
Couldn’t finish this entry (people probably don’t read really long shit anyways), still laughing              
       
*Couldn’t have been any closer, at that time, than if we had went to the same school              
5th, 6th 7th grade