Thirty-five years ago, I was sent away from Georgia to a New England boarding school in the days when they accepted students as early as eighth grade.
Among the day students were Michael Eden cousin of mine who lived nearby with his widowed mother, my Aunt Sheila.
Since Michael and I were both small for eighth-graders – we looked about two years younger – and were unathletic in a school that placed an emphasis on sports, we found ourselves somewhat excluded from the rough and tumble clubbiness of high school.
This situation along with many common interests and family ties drew us together and we were quickly inseparable.
About two weeks into the semester, Michael got a D on the first math quiz and fretted for the rest of the day as if he had flunked the final exam.
At some point, I finally asked:
“What’s big deal, Michael?
It’s just the weekly quiz.
You can easily make it up next week by studying hard.”

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