Monday, October 18, 2021
In June, 1957 I sat quietly in my seat on my first day in junior high school. The other students in the room had gone to school together for several years and even knew the teacher. But I had come from another elementary school in a different part of town and knew no one.
The teacher was taking attendance by reading off each student's first name. He said, "Marilyn" and paused for the expected response from a brown-haired girl to his front. Instead, a grinning boy quipped "Monroe!" causing the other students to roar in delight at the reference to the blond Hollywood starlet. I laughed, also, but yet felt uneasy. At my previous school, no student would have dared to wisecrack in front of a teacher performing a serious task.
The joker's performance was my introduction to James Wittes.
It was obvious from the start that kids were attracted to Jimmy and it was due to his intelligence, wit and leadership ability. Fortunately, within two years my parents had moved my family to a house that by chance was on the same street as Jimmy's and fairly close by. That and being school mates allowed me to get to know him and join his circle of friends.
As the years went by, I learned that kindness and compassion also were integral parts of Jimmy. One particular incident among many exemplifies that. We were both on the high school soccer team. One day, a freak accident at practice resulted in me lying flat on my back at home for several weeks in a full body cast. Jimmy made a hockey game for me, lugged the heavy thing over to my house and made my "imprisonment" more bearable as we played time and again until my recovery.
The last time I saw Jimmy was fifty-one years ago and, though not dramatic, it is one of those scenes that is etched in my memory. I was sitting on the front steps of my parents' home and Jimmy drove by. He stopped, got out and we chitchatted for a few minutes. He told me he wanted to be the president of a company. I thought that interesting since he didn't know what kind of company. Then he left and disappeared from my life. Or did he?
I try to keep the attic of my house reasonably free of clutter. In one corner are a few keepsakes of my youth like my high school graduation photo, boy scout merit badges...and the hockey game. The game takes up a lot of room and gathers dust. And it likely will stay there until...until...well, until I, too, gather dust.
Rowland Creitz
Stow, Maine
