A Renewed Armstrong  I'm on 2nd Street in Wilmerton between Large Company and Box Company going west. I'm riding a bicycle. My friends Kevin Simpson and Stephen Ramos are with me. There is a man on the median waiting for something. He seems to be a teacher from Armstrong High School. I ride and turn right at the intersection of School Avenue. I see a sheriff's car down on the bank of the Armstrong pond. It's rear tires are in the water. There is one officer in the car and another standing up near the road next to a tree. They are trying to catch students who are speeding on their way to school. The sheriff near the road has a radar gun. The car is parked on the bank, low in the water so people won't see it. I ride by on the grass, thinking I'm doing nothing that can get me in trouble. As I get closer to the school the officers stop a speeding vehicle. It is my friend Bubba Hacker on his motorcycle, I see. I arrive at Armstrong and look for my locker. School is about to begin. I feel that this place is very familiar: I am used to it and am comfortable here. I see my friends Mya Rousing and Sarah Reed. They come up and ask me questions about something I have said in the past. I don't to focus on that, or deal with it. I reply tersely that I just call 'em like I see 'em. I can't find my locker. The lockers are a different style and have a different kind of lock on them. They are made up of small drawers. I ask my friend Virginia Green where are lockers are, and she points them out to me. I find a bra and panties in the top drawer of my locker, and as I open the other drawers I see more items, as if the locker is still being used. I see the name "Julie Newman" on a notebook in one of the drawers. I know this must have been her old locker. In case she is still using it I set my stuff on the side. [Interesting day residue note in journal.] I walk down towards homeroom. There are many people in the hallway; many teachers. The atmosphere is lively. I know it's the first day of school. I walk through the crowd, recognizing a few teachers. One of my teachers says to me, "Feels good to be a senior, huh?" He is a good teacher: a friend. I see Bubba wearing his football jersey and joke with him about his speeding ticket. I walk to the commons area, which has been remodeled. The structure of the building is different. It is essentially a new building. The ceiling of the commons is high, and there is an a la carte lunch line on my left side. It seems to be much classier than the old lunch line. I see my old teammates Nate Nelling, Tony Kramer, and other basketball players. I go up to them in a friendly manner and say hi. They are terse and say hi back unenthusiastically. They are not excited to see me, and I think would probably prefer to not see me because they think I'm strange and am on the wrong track in life. Tony, in particular, thinks this. There is a large cream-colored phone on the table. I pick it up. It is 14-15 inches long. It has earpiece holes, but no mouthpiece to speak into. I say "Hello, with whom am I speaking?" I see Bubba on another phone, and know it's him I'm joking around talking to. A woman's voice is on the phone. She says, "Kenneth?" I recognize the voice as my acquaintance Eve Nichols. She is working as some sort of a telephone operator. Tony seems to be embarrassed of my joking antics and silliness on the phone.