One summer when I worked as a time card clerk for Younkers department store, I ran across my personnel file. I found out that my high school principal, Father Scott, said I was "phlegmatic." Forty-five years later, I still wonder whether he meant self-possessed, calm, and unruffled or torpid, sluggish and indifferent. Frankly I don't remember having much to do with Father Scott. He's dead now so I've missed the chance to see where he actually stood. But thinking about it has kept me on my toes.