Illinois Industrial School for Boys

Between the negativity of a 60 Minute piece last night and a downing of its page on the internet, and an additional loss on the stock market, it is said they lost $7 billion today.  I’ll bet you they won’t lose any sleep over it tonight.  I didn’t either.  I just came off a 5-day cleansing in absence of them and to tell you the truth I kinda liked they got their comeuppance.  What I did consider was how would I establish contact with my Friends list.  Do I have an email for every friend on my list?  No, I don’t. 

I remember when I enrolled in Thornton Township (1961)  OF Harvey (Ill.). I had only, as recently as Dec. of 1960, been released from St. Charles Boys School, which if you see the sign on the side of the road encased among wild bushes surrounding said sign, reads, Illinois Industrial School for Boys.  Now, that was the name of Sheridan, a mini prison for incorrigible youth.  A place at that time I had yet to lodge in.  It would not be long in waiting.  High School was overwhelming, not only for it’s size but socially I was a fish out of water.  I reeked of incarceration.  My first class, after homeroom was English.  The teacher spoke with a Russian accent.  Never having met a Russian before it could have been any number of other languages.  As anyone would know growing up in their teenage years you were home when the streetlights came on.  I, on the other hand was just “going out” as I explained it to my mother.  It would be considerably later when I returned.  By the time English class came around I was dead tired, so I slept in class.  So much so, the teacher, Mr. Russian, allowed me to continue to sleep, having instructed the rest of the class to leave quietly so as not to disturb me.  He, in my consideration, instructed the next teacher to let me sleep and when I awoke to tell me “Mr. Russian said you could go on to your next class”.  At one point my eyes opened and not recognizing any of the other students assumed I was dreaming and went back to sleep, but, the next time, the teacher, said, as Mr. Russian had instructed him to, “Mr. Thomson, you may go to your next class.”  To the roar of laughter from the other students.  You have now entered the Twilight Zone.

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