BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 96
Then I reminded each asshole he was free to eat his heart out.
The typing teacher was, of all people, Mr. Clark, the football coach. How he
managed to type with those huge fingers, ten mini baseball bats on his hands, was beyond
me. He noticed before the first day of class was over how hard it was for me to keep up
with the girls. I was the only boy in the class. I think he also knew, if the class waited
for me to catch up on each step, it would take twelve weeks, not the six they allocated.
So, as a kindness to me and everyone else, including himself, Mr. Clark made me
a deal. If I could get to 25 wpm with only five errors by the end of the six weeks, he‟d
give me a C for my efforts and I‟d pass. With that, he pretty much left me alone the rest
of the class. I used my right index finger on the keys, my left one on the shift bar. When
class was over, he timed me. I got 32 wpm with no errors.
He gave me an A and was proud as hell of me.
These days, I use three fingers, and my left thumb, on occasion. My typing speed,
or keyboarding, since I use a computer, is 110 wpm with no errors. I was able to improve
just a bit using my system, but I‟ll be damned if I‟d ever try teaching it to anyone. Too
freakin‟ complicated.
A thought in memory. Gilbert Puente, a really nice kid, was murdered in the early
70s, shot in the heart with a .22 handgun. We all miss you, Gilbert, but I know you‟re up
there in Rock & Roll Heaven where, as the Righteous Brothers told us, they‟ve got one
helluva band. Rock on, Amigo, rock on.
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The vice principal at Otto was Mr. Chapman. He made a special visit to see the
vice principal at my new high school, J.W. Sexton. I wish I could recall that one‟s name,
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