Words provide much of the magic in my life, so you should be flattered because I’ve saved so many of yours — “The Best of Boyleing Points.” I’ve saved your latest, “Curses,” because, as usual you are able to call “a spade a spade” without digging a literary grave for yourself, and because this editorial jarred a long-repressed memory.
I was fresh out of high school, the proverbial old-fashioned girl and everyone's teacher’s pet, because I had always been able to anticipate a teacher’s wish. I never displeased them. But things were about to change in my first week of college. It was freshman English and the professor began with an introduction to Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. Each of us was given an analytical assignment based on the novel. Mine came with a shock that still makes my bones rattle — “Joan Tuzzoli,” she shouted, “You will explain why Holden draws a line at writing F**K You…” The rest of her words were lost in the thunder that filled my brain as my professor tumbled off her pedestal. You see, for me teachers were gods. Unlike human beings, they were perfect in every way and they certainly didn’t say the “F” word. When I regained my speech, I asked the professor for a different assignment. With her refusal, I faced a cataclysmic battle of wills between my conscience and a devil who made an appearance on the professor’s side. “Joanie,” he tempted, “Teachers’ pets never displease their teachers!” At seventeen, this was a traumatic dilemma and it was all about a curse word I didn’t want to analyze.
Among my first “lost saints” was the loss of a cherished idea: Teachers were no longer gods. Not until I met an extraordinary professor the next year. But that’s another story…
Joan Tuzzoli Diehl
I write this letter to give some information about the problems with mail delivery in Rockaway. A member of my family is a postal worker and was told by the boss to give priority at all times to Amazon deliveries instead of First Class Mail and most business mail. They were told not to share this with anyone on their route. Also, many temps were hired during the holidays and had little training in what procedures they should follow, but only to get rid of what was in the truck before ending the shift. I cannot sign my name, to protect my family member’s job. This should be shared with Meeks and Ulrich to look into right away.
Ha Ha !
Regarding Boyleing Points last week; You should have your pen washed out with soap. Friggin funny!
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