Bob's Senior quote from the 1998 Lawrenceville yearbook:

Senior year—fall term—second period.  My quotes were due this morning, and although this is my term sans homework, sans classes, sans everything but the Lawrence, I seem to have delayed the quotes in favor of my typical wild weekend of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.  Well, not quite.  OK, so maybe I listened to the Rolling Stones for a few minutes.  And I did take insulin this morning.  And, well, what I do in my own room is my own business.

This year is nowhere near a close, and this message is clearly premature.  So, let me project into the future:  I see a millionaire with a tennis court in his backyard, a couple of brilliant kids, a beautiful wife, and a few moments to rest between his 27-hour days.  Oh, but I was only projecting six months from now.  Well, I expect the same (maybe without the extra sleep, though).  Four years of Lawrenceville—Lower, Griswold, Upper, and that other place (The Larynx Office?)—and this is the best I can write?

Whatever.

If you’re this far into my quote and I haven’t mentioned your name, it’s probably because I don’t like you and you aren’t important to me.  Family, friends, best friends—housemates, teachers, Lawrence faculty advisors—you know where you stand.  Seriously, however:  I suffer from chronic sarcasm, and I fundamentally disagree with writing personal messages in  my senior quote (the desire to throw your names into this message is overwhelming, but I’m working on self-discipline).  But if you want me to write something to you personally in your book, ask.  I have volumes to write about you.  (Good, you hope.)  You see, I’m afraid that I can’t print “I love you” here only because it appears in everyone else’s messages.  And I’ve got to stay original.

I do hope, however, that my being me had some impact on you being you (because, despite my blank lunchroom stares and early-morning grunts, I do like you).  And when you reach those obscene age landmarks (25, 30, 40, 60, 100?) give me a ring, because I’ll probably remember your names longer than I’ll remember mine.  Just don’t disappear from my life, cause I get awfully lonely when I’m alone.

I’m never quite satisfied, and I’m not everything I’ve ever hoped to be.  I’ve got quite a long way yet—we all do—but you guys have given me four years nobody else could have given.  It’s been good.  You’ve been good.  Stay that way, because, damnit, I do love you.

And so I won’t end with a quote, but only because I don’t know any.

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