I am in a large classroom. The teacher is taking roll. He calls, "Veterans." No one answers. A second time the name is called. I trumpet out, "Don't you know that's me, you big baboon!" Everyone in the class begins to laugh. Even the teacher, who resembles the plastic surgeon Dr. DeStefanol, breaks into a grin. The laughter, instead of subsiding, grows and grows, until it is followed by loud and sustained applause. Everyone is smiling, everyone is applauding, everyone is cheering. These people are all familiar to me, they are from my past. Here, they are depicted as children. The pitch grows higher. I am born aloft by the many hands and arms of the great crowd and deposited at the head of the class, alongside the teacher. There are four pretty girls with us. I remember thinking, "He is overweight, but does not look like a baboon." Recollection ends here.