I lost several to my elementary school principal, Mr. Tyre. He would meet me in the hall, look down at my pockets and crook his index finger in that "Come with me" motion. He'd lead me to his office, sit down behind his desk, have me stand in front of it and say "Stan, what's that in your pocket?". I'd put off the inevitable as long as possible, but he'd make me empty my pockets, and take my knife and drop in in his center desk drawer with all the others......... with a big ol' grin.
He died a few years ago, but he would see me occasionally in a restaurant, after I was 40+ years old, and look at me with that same expression and crook that finger over and over, motioning me over. I'd walk over, he'd say "Give me that knife, boy." And, I'd reply, "Nope, not now ............. Mr.Tyre." We'd both have a good laugh.
Strange that he would let me bring a shotgun and shells to school on the bus, and wouldn't let me carry a little pocket knife.
SRH
Last edited by Stan; 02/03/19 03:06 PM. Reason: punc.
