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.
When I talk about “we”, I am usually referring to my husband, Sig. We live in Kansas City, Kansas –near KU Med Center– if you’re ever in the neighborhood. Our house is a 1917 stucco bungalow that appealed to us nearly 30 years ago and still hasn’t lost its charm, tho truth be known, it could stand with a little updating, if you know what I mean.