I wanted to be a cheerleader in high school. I looked great in the sweater and pleated skirt. My moves were unbeatable. My downfall was the spelling.
I was voted Mr. Congeniality by my high school senior class. To this day, I don’t know if my classmates had a profound sense of irony or they just didn’t know what the word meant.
Due to a clerical error that nobody has fixed, I was inducted into my high school hall of fame. Investigators are still trying to determine why.
My middle name is spelled Patric with no “k” because Grandma Gertie, who claimed to have been born on St. Patrick’s Day said it was more Irish that way. (Note the “k” in St. Pat’s handle.) I believe it was the first in a series of mistakes misspellings that would haunt me through a 27-year newspaper career.
My first, middle, and last name each have six characters. 666. Make of that what you want.
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The 666 name thing is a bit creepy.