Bobs I Have Known, Part 4

Robert Fine and George Carroll made an odd pair, but they were friends, almost inseparable. This was sixth grade at Washington School.

Robert was Jewish. George was not. Robert had black woolly hair. George's hair was string staight and brown.

Robert was soft, kind of flabby. George was just skinny. George had one eye that turned in a little. Robert did not. People sometimes made fun of Robert, maybe George, too, but I'm not sure.

Neither was athletic in the least way. In fact, if you get a picture in your mind of an athletic young boy, Robert was the exact opposite of that picture. Feet turned out, arms kind of flailing when he ran. George was small and perhaps not interested in sports. Maybe his eye made him so.

They had a few other things in common. Both were very smart. Both clever. Both easy laughers. Both in Miss Meister's class. Both in love with me. Go figure.

In-class behavior was more or less circumspect, although they sometimes lingered at my desk on the way back from the pencil sharpener. One at a time, of course.

At recess, they may as well have been in my pocket or glued to my side. I mean, they stayed really close.

They liked to chase me. I was not so fond of that. Such a waste of a good recess.

If I played hopscotch or four square or whatever, they were there watching, heads together, talking about me. They actually made up a language so they could talk about me and not risk my knowing what they were saying.

One phrase I heard a lot was "ugga blugga." One of them might say it and then the other might say it louder, then grin or run off. George told me later--I don't know how much later--it meant I love you.

They probably never knew it, but I loved them, too. Just not the same way.

I do not know what became of George. Robert, when last I saw him at our 30-year high school reunion, was Bob Fine, disc jockey for the dance that night and holder of a very good day job: math teacher at Santa Monica College. He wasn't still in love with me, but he was interested.