There are other bombs in my background, but I had several friends whose involvement in bombmaking did draw the attention of the FBI. The good news is that after the FBI showed up at his house while his mom was making him breakfast, the ensuing interrogation, fines, indentured labor to repay the damages, my friend went on to become the Stake President in the stake where he grew up. Repentance is so sweet.

My friend’s brother wasn’t pleased, since the high school administration made the obvious connection to a similar stunt at the high school shortly before the middle school toilet went to the great restroom in the sky – and he got nailed. My friend wasn’t pleased by the beating his brother gave him, either.

Sorry for the threadjack, Ardis, but it was a natural connection – so please forgive me.

Thanks for your comments, all, both the enjoyment of these pictures and the memories of your own Primary days that they recall. I remember that we had parties and carnivals, and every year while I was in Primary we still threaded streamers of crepe paper through the spokes of our bikes or trikes or wagons to parade around the block or even just around the church parking lot. Dropping pennies into the cardboard bank shaped like the Primary Children’s Hospital made me feel like I was really helping what were then called “crippled children.” Most of that faded away during the years I was teaching weekday Primary (I was given my very first class, 3 year olds, when I was just 11 and not yet graduated from Primary. Somebody needed to take that class, and I was thrilled to be asked.) I don’t ever remember costumes or plays or cantatas, though. Or maypole dances. I would have liked a maypole dance.

However, at school, it was a different story, from throwing up on the elementary school principal’s desk when she doubted I was really sick, to the giant smoke bomb the last day of my senior year in high school that resulted in a 24 hour suspension. I emptied a whole wing of the school, some 500 students. My senior yearbook is full of references to “The Bomber”. In these more “enlightened” days, I’d have been charged with a felony. I got off easy.