Lou Miucci died the other day. Lou was a grade advisor of mine back in one of the high schools I attended. A sweet man although strange. It was rumored back then that he was a fairy. Maybe he was gay-who really knows other than him? That doesn't matter anyhow. Anyway, when I got the news I flashed back to the events of 1976 and how he ended up rescuing me. At the time, I was going with Angie, a nice young lady who like me, had no idea what sex was or where it lead. Sure, we knew about babies and all that; but at that age we didn't think things through. Angie and I went at it like wild animals on a beautiful spring day and in the end she was pregnant. I was scared and she was terrified. Her father was not a man who would take this news very well. What to do? We held each other and I promised to tell her father what I had done. I knew he'd want to kill me. We both figured it would be good for me to have someone along with me, so I decided to bring along my eldest brother. He refused, telling me, I had to be a man since I had disgraced a girl this way. My next option was my grandfather, who said nothing, just got up and walked away. In a feeling of despair, I headed outside and went for a walk. At the time we were out in the hinterlands (Staten Island) and that was bad enough. We were also in a heavily prejudiced and ethnic community. Rosebank was mostly Italian in those days. So off I went, I walked out of 1208 Bay Street and just wandered aimlessly. After a short time I found myself up on Tompkins Avenue looking across at St.Joseph's. I wasn't Catholic-but what if that was my only answer? I went on in. I recall looking at the little water holders by the door-I think they were holy water to cross yourself with. I went on in and sat in the last pew. I cried a bit. feeling scared, mostly just sorry for myself. I prayed and asked God to help me and not let me get killed. I always prayed aloud. I kept praying and asking for help and guidance and kept going back to not being killed. At one point, a gentle voice said 'Whatever it is, most likely won't get you killed.' A hand came to rest on my shoulder. I thought it was one of those handsome priests who was touching me and turned my head up. It was Miucci. He had that kindly look on his face and told me to go with him. We went outside, and there in the afternoon air, in front of St.Joseph's I told him what I had done. By the time I was finished, I was in tears. He told me to calm down and we went a few blocks to a little park where he sat me down for a talk. By the time he had finished, he had agreed to come with me that night and see Angie's father. Angie's father, a huge man, was less than pleased when he heard what I had done to his little girl. Angie was the youngest of 6 and the only girl. Man did I screw up! He asked why he shouldn't beat me into the ground or turn me over to the police or better yet his friends. Being Italian as he was, I figured he meant Mafia. I admit a trickle of urine passed at that moment. Lou Miucci was also Italian, and said something which calmed Mr. D. down. It was agreed that I would have to do right by Angie, which meant getting married. Fuck! I was only 16. I protested a little, Miucci told me to zip it and just do as I was told. Angie and I moved forward, two scared teens with no idea what we would do. She managed to stay in school, as did I. This was no small feat in the mid-70s. Back then pregnant girls still usually left school. We stared at our upcoming marriage. I even took the money I had earned on my part time job and got a little ring for her. We were set to get married down at the county clerks office on Tuesday afternoon. Monday morning I got the call form Lou Miucci himself. I was in school still, and he had me pulled from Earth Science. I came downstairs to his office and he had a look on his face. He told me Angie wasn't going to have the baby, she had lost it. I didn't understand and he explained it to me. He was the only education official who ever took me in their arms and held me (nowadays it would be against the law). As I fell apart a feeling of relief and grief all mixed together washed over me. Miucci told me he'd take me to see Angie and we headed off to the hospital. Her family was there and her father looked at me. I saw the anger and I wanted to run. Miucci held me steady, his hands on my shoulders and softly told me to stay-I owed it to myself and to Angie and that little baby who had died that day. (very Catholic, he believed in life at conception). Angie and I broke up after that and my family came back into the city. Lou Miucci continued along in his job and I talked to him a few times always ending up thanking him for what he had done. He never saw it as anything that big. He just said it was what any decent human was supposed to do-help out their fellow man. So, when I was told about his passing, a host of thoughts and feelings from the past washed over me. No tears as of yet, just a fond remembering of a sweet man who loved mankind and who will be missed. I haven't felt much like doing anything since then-between remembereing him and how decent he was to me and Angie and of course Angie and our ended (although fright filled dream of a baby and a future). This morning I decided to just write down a little something as a tribute to Louis J. Miucci. Yeah, Lou Miucci passed over the other day-Rest peacefully Lou and thanks for everything.