'Uncle George' and the St. Patrick's Day caper

Claudia Johnson Brown (George Anderson's niece) with her chum, Sandi Pennar Bonesteel

He played no favorites
By Sandi Pennar Bonesteel
It may be of interest to our class that our dear departed Junior High principal, George Anderson, was the uncle of a fellow classmate, and one of my best friends, Claudia Johnson Brown.
However, Uncle George proved to be unbiased by this association, as I was busted at least three times by him. He may have gotten Claudia on at least one of those occasions, as the three of us (with Paula Widstrom Hanson) were usually in some sort of trouble together during our 8th grade year at Central.

Squirt guns
I am pretty sure it was all three of us who, on two separate occasions, had squirt guns and cowbells confiscated from our possession in the hallway. Wonder how he knew we had them? Possibly because he knew Claudia quite well?

Food coloring
The most memorable confrontation was on St. Patrick’s Day --- I was on my own on this one. To celebrate the occasion, I had decided to dye my hair with green food coloring. I looked like I could have been part of the cast of Darby O’Gill and the Little People, and I stood out in a crowd. (kinda like the sunlamp burn I had later at the Senior prom) Uncle George saw me in the hall on my way to my next class, and called me over. He informed me that I must go rinse it out immediately (I was in violation of a dress code or something).

Rinse, repeat
I proceeded obediently to the bathroom, and tried to rinse it out in the sink, and dry it with paper towels. The situation worsened, as I was wearing a white blouse, which could have passed for tie-dyed by the time I came out of the bathroom. My hair was dripping all over, and still quite green. (It later proved to take several washings with shampoo to totally remove the food coloring).

Irish temper
Mr. Anderson decided that I needed to go home, missing the rest of my classes, which would require a note to return to school. I was afraid my dad would kill me, so I called my aunt to come pick me up. Fearing my dad would find out eventually, I confessed to him that evening. To my surprise, Dad (the parent with the Irish heritage) had liked my green hair, and in fact, was quite upset, and began ranting about Scandinavian holidays (my maternal grandmother was full Norwegian, so he knew what he was talking about--I think Uncle George was Swedish, though). This is one of the best memories I have of my dad’s "Irish temper", and it was hilarious.

Strawberry blonde daughter
I’m afraid I didn’t learn my lesson---one year at Halloween, I dyed my tow-headed daughter’s hair with red food coloring so she could be Raggedy Ann, and she was a strawberry blonde for weeks.