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In the 1960s, I taught first grade. What happened will always bother me.
I'm old enough that your grandchildren will come to visit and talk to you about your family background for a project. The first child I have, Liam, came this week with a camera. I knew he wasn't going to talk about how his great-great-grandpa came to the United States from England when I saw the bottle of Johnnie Walker tucked under his arm.
He was interested in "The Incident."
When I was younger, I only told this story to my brave wife Laura. She died more than ten years ago. My kids tried to get it from me, but they quickly learned not to bother me because I would lose my cool and lash out. They would tell their own kids not to ask Great Pops about his scars.
But I don't want to keep lies any longer, and Liam is my best nephew. He told me to write my story here after I told him my story and drank half of the Johnnie. He said that you all understood and might be able to give him some new ideas. To be honest, I think I could use some peace of mind.
Okay, here it is. I'm sorry ahead of time if I go on too long.
President Lyndon B. Johnson came to my high school in 1965 and gave an inspiring speech about how important education and fairness were. It made me want to become a teacher right then and there. After graduating…
