I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his DDS diploma, which showed his full name.

Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name who had been in my high school class some 40-odd years ago. Could this be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then?

Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with a deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate.

After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High School.

“Yes. Yes, I did. I’m a Mustang,” he beamed with pride.

“When did you graduate?” I asked.

He answered, “In 1968. Why do you ask?”

“You were in my class!” I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely. Then, that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled, fat, gray, decrepit son-of-a-gun asked, “What did you teach?”