The Chaperone

Chaperone.
​
Just typing the word makes me uncomfortable. Now, imagine how I felt when my wife told me that I would need to be a chaperone on my son’s third grade school trip to the State House and State Museum. I tried to remind her that I still have not recovered from the time 20 years ago when a buddy called me to see if I wanted to tag along and help him chaperone a group of first-week high school seniors at Cherry Grove. Nevermind we were only three years older than the group of whom we were supposed to be in charge of their well-being. “It will be a free week at the beach,” said my buddy. Mentally, I am still paying the price today from what that week did to my soul.

Read More