Once upon a conference night... (An Email Reprint)

(from March 8, 2012)

...a mother and her daughter walked into my classroom, and the mother gasped, "Oh my God! You can't be Mr. Monson. You look just like him, but you just can't be him... that was so long ago..."

I've had some strange conference conversations before, but this opening was a first, "Excuse me?" 

"Oh, as we were walking up the steps, I looked at Paige's schedule, and I noticed we we're going to see a Mr. Monson. I was telling her that I had a Mr. Monson as my principal in elementary school, and I was joking that it was going to be the same guy... I can't believe it, but you look exactly like my old principal!"

I gave her a polite laugh, and a smirk,  "Well, where did you go to school?"

"Oh," she waved a hand in front of her face, "it's a small school, way up north. It's called West Lyon."

This time I smile for real. "That was my dad. He was an elementary principal there in the early 70's." 

"Are you serious?" 

I assured her I was, and the rest of the conference went fairly smoothly, except I kept catching the mom staring at my face instead of the transcript I had giver her. At the end of our meeting I shook both of their hands, and as mom was walking out she informed me, "Except for the modern haircut, you look just like him. Your dad had this Mike Brady style haircut."

"Yep, Dad was rockin' that doo back then." 

"He sure was."

Here is Dad back in 1973. My sister Michelle and I are helping him decorate the Chistmas tree. I was four; Shelley was six.

Music Link: Blame it on My Youth

2016 Update: My grandmother passed away last week, and her funeral was on Monday. I was a pallbearer. After the service, at least three different strangers stopped to tell me they knew I was Barry's son just by looking at me. 

Blog Link: "His Voice in Mine"