Published: March 1, 1992

Fooling Miss Dillon

Yes, it was scary. But when a young man has spent his entire life under the protection of his mother and father and then finds himself about to strike out into the world on his own, this is to be expected. For me, it was the fall of 1937, when at the age of 5, I was approaching the moment I had spent virtually my whole life anticipating. I was about to start school.

There was no kindergarten in those days for children attending Rural School No. 12 in the farming country outside of Rochester, N.Y. No cookies and milk, no naps cuddled in a blanket on the floor, and no half-day school. And mothers did not take their little boys to school on the first day, for these were the days when men were men and there was no room for sissies.

I sat by the living room window with my new Tiger lunch pail waiting for Harry and Jerry. Jerry was already in the 3rd grade, and Harry was so high up I could not contemplate this level. He was in the...