Arlo (who was a Sophomore at the same high school) asked to sign my yearbook, so I gave it to him to sign. He had to take it with him, because we were en-route to classes. Later that day, Arlo told me that he couldn't find my yearbook. It was the last week of school, so we looked frantically, but never found it. Arlo worked in the "Annual" class, so he said that he could get me another one. On the last day of school, Arlo gave me a yearbook that was damaged, and said: "BAD COPY" on the front, because there were no good copies left. I wanted my book with signatures! Most of the people who signed it had left school already.
But there was nothing I could do (strangling Arlo wouldn't bring my book back), so I swallowed, thanked him, and took the book. To this day, there is only one signature in that book - Arlo's. I wouldn't trade that signature for any others in the world.
Arlo never purchased his own high school yearbook, so it was a surprise when a friend on Facebook posted a photo of Arlo's Senior yearbook photo in the 1972 OHS Tiburon yearbook.
I also still have the little stuffed shark that Arlo won for me in a high school carnival; he pitched ping-pong balls into fish-bowls for it. I asked him why he was giving it to me. "Hell, I don't want it!" he replied.
Arlo's inscription in my slam book, 1967:
He was filled with sentiment. Below is one Mothers Day card that he sent me. I cherish this, too.