Sawdust Memories

The infamy of Doug and his stories of gaseous debauchery brought to mind some other grammar school memories. These memories, though much more benign are just as memorable, to me at least.

There was a child that transferred midyear into our fourth-grade class. We were a friendly class and accepted him right away. No one even mentioned that he had the face of a parrot; that is a post for another day, but let’s just say we embraced him as a new member of our small school. We never asked him why he was a mid-year transfer. He never offered info as to if they just moved here or if there was trouble in another school. As far as we were concerned he was just another kid in the same 4th grade boat we were in; watching the nun trying to teach us stuff.

The odd thing about Bobby was that every day at 10:30 he’d lean over and vomit all over the floor. All the kids with neighboring seats would slide their desks away from the pool and gather by the coat closet until Albert, the school janitor arrived with a bag of saw dust and a bucket and mop.

After Bobby hurled he was OK and class resumed. There was no phone call to his mother to pick up a sick child; everything simply resumed as though nothing had happened. It was only notable when I went home and my mother asked what happened in school. I’d report something like, “The nun spanked Jimmy today. It was Debby’s birthday and her mom brought in cup cakes, and Bobby Applegate puked.”

The next day at exactly 10:30 Bobby puked again. The same thing went down, the kids scurried and moved their desks, Albert came in with the vomit kit and life resumed. I went home and had to give the report, “I got an A in Geography, Michael got a new dog and Bobby Applegate puked again.”

Bobby Applegate was becoming famous. My mom didn’t even ask about what went on in school when I got home. She’d just head right to the important stuff asking, “Did Bobby Applegate puke today?” My answer every day for the next two weeks was, “Yep, 10:30 on the dot!”

On the Monday of the third week Bobby didn’t come to school and neither did he on the next day or the day after that. No one mentioned him. It was as though he was contracted to come and test Albert’s vomit cleaning ability; Albert passed the test and Bobby moved on to test the janitorial staff elsewhere.

I know he didn’t die because I saw him around town from time to time, but I never had a chance to talk with him. To this day I think of him every time I post a “Sick Day”® post with a vomit photo.