The occasion was the sudden death by stroke of the love of my life, Carol Felvey, a death that came completely out of the blue on Labor Day weekend this year.

How much — or how little — a student achieves is directly proportional to a teacher’s trust in their ability to master difficult lessons. Students will usually live up to — or down to — your expectations of them.

Buoyed by your trust in them, students will usually reach a level of achievement far higher than even they imagined they could reach. But if they sense that you have low expectations of them, they will almost always fall to those low levels, and often even lower.

Oh, I know that there’s plenty of warm weather left before the air chills and the leaves tremble orange and red, but when you’ve spent your life hopping from square to square on a school calendar, the start of August means the beginning of the end of summer.

The grand prize, of course, was the cherry bomb. Its waterproof wick meant that it could be used to sink the ships of yuletides past.

Every Christmas we asked Santa for plastic model kits of the great ships of America’s proud naval history. We assembled them through the dark, dreary months of late winter, and by summer the kits had been built, played with, and abandoned to the back of the closet.

I know that’s a crazy thing to say, unless you’re an ambulance-chasing lawyer or a psychiatrist who sees dollar signs in other people’s misery. But I’m neither of those things, so go ahead — call me crazy.

The statement raises important questions on all sides, regarding what, exactly, our Founding Fathers meant by it. By “Arms” did they necessarily mean “guns,” or would swords, knives, and spears suffice as arms? If they were talking specifically about guns, did they give any thought to what type of gun might be a bridge too far, given the horrors future technology might bring?

When I was little, my philosophy was “Let someone else break it.” It worked like this: If I was tossing a ball around in the house and broke a lamp, I would painstakingly reassemble the pieces and then tiptoe out of the room. The next time somebody walked through the house, the lamp would rattle apart, right before their eyes. Son of a gun. And I was nowhere in sight.

Because it turns out there are more than 50 varieties of Ken dolls out there — Cali Cool Ken, Tropical Vibes Ken, Hip Hoodie Ken, and more. And now they come in a variety of skin tones and body shapes that include slim, broad and original.

A few weeks ago, Carol Pavlik wrote in this paper about her attempt to adopt a cat, only to be thwarted by a woman sitting behind a desk who peppered her with stern questions. What was her policy on declawing? Did she have a vet? What would the cat be fed? She answered carefully and thoughtfully, because she had “nothing but good intentions for our hypothetical kitty!”

“Wow,” he said, “you still do that old-school.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, which is pretty much par for the course for me when it comes to conversations with members of generations that are less vintage than mine.

“What are you talking about?” I said.

The Florida man who told police he couldn’t be arrested for drinking and driving because he only gulped his bourbon at stop signs.

The Florida man who stole a Walmart mobility scooter so he could drive his date to a sports bar.

The Florida man who fast-tracked an effective vaccine against Covid, but then told America to inject bleach into their veins instead.

When my friend Carol and I met him in early March, he told us he had just celebrated the 36th anniversary “of the day that put me in this chair.”

No, it’s that when she talks to her 16-year-old granddaughter, she’s astounded at how Ella’s modern-day Catholic upbringing is so different from her own old-school Catholic upbringing.

Mary DeVoto, a Mother McAuley High School teacher of 41 years, was fired for violating a zero-tolerance rule of ever speaking a word that I assume I can’t print here for the same reason. (I won’t test that theory and put my editor in the uncomfortable position of deleting the word — or its writer — from this publication.)

Because if you’re OK with all of that, this show is a don’t-miss gem.

Then, as an afterthought, He yanked out a rib from the man and created woman. I have no idea how that in any way explains the way that women are, but then who understands women anyway? Many have tried, but every time men think deeply about women, they get dirty thoughts. I blame God.

As a further afterthought — or maybe as a way to escape blame — God gave man and woman free will. “What could possibly go wrong?” I imagine He might have said.

My son and daughter, of course, and old friends like Bill and Mike with whom I worked for more than 30 years. And Alejandra and Margaret, loving stroke caregivers I haven’t seen since my wife died almost four years ago.

Sure, it has something to do with ripping off that smothering facemask, but it has to do with way more than that. It has to do with watching more and more of our friends, family and neighbors get life-saving vaccines, and then boosters. It has to do with watching covid infections, hospitalizations and death rate rates plummet as a result.

There was my son Dave and three grandkids by him — Jack, Natalie and Olivia, all between 12 and 16 years old. And my daughter Jenny and grandkids Quentin, Evan and Johannah, all between 23 and 26 years old, with Quentin’s birthday only days away. And Johanna’s kids — my great-grandkids — Anastasia (Asia), who is three already, and Dakota, just barely a half-year old.

That’s why it’s important for principled columnists — like me — to go that extra mile to keep your world expanded beyond the narrow bounds of your lockdown life, to keep you up-to-date firsthand on things that don’t sit just outside your window in Huntley.