X is for “My Memoir Class X-Ray,” By Lewis Hildreth

Ah, Lewis! This fun piece is so typical of your attitude towards life, the class and writing. We miss you.

X marks the spot here at Norwalk Senior Center where, of a Thursday afternoon at approximately 2:00 p.m., students drift into the classroom to form a body of students with a few Madam X’s and Mr. X’s scattered throughout. We are not here to play X’s and O’s, though that may happen too, but to discern what the X unknown is in our respective lives. Yet we will not be accused of X-chasing, for we are here to celebrate our lives in a veritable Xanadu of pleasurable expression, made safe by the King’s X that says that “what takes place in the classroom, stays in the classroom.”

We do not suffer from xenophobia (fear of strangers), nor do we labor under a xenocracy (ruled by foreigners). Indeed, we may be xenophiles (we like foreigners), verging on xenomania (an insane fancy for strangers). After the gasps and denials subside, I do believe I can say that we are usually xenodochial (hospitable).

I know in my case that I could be accused of xenoglossia (the faculty of using intelligibly a language one has not learned) because I am still learning English. I have come to love to read books. I read whenever I get a spare moment. I read the dictionary. I read the phone book. I read junk mail. I read and read. I would read xylographic books (books printed from engraved wood blocks) if I had them, and I would read engraved wooden blocks, not caring if I were accused of xylophory (wood carrying).

It is probably in our X chromosomes, the strange bibliophilic gene that causes us to read and write. I can only repeat that X marks the spot here at the Norwalk Senior Center.