Clearly I am not alone in my memories of Miss Lucy Clemmer's infatuation with Egypt. When I mentioned some time ago to Mary Francis Lillard Crocker that I was contemplating a trip there, she broke into the conversation exclaiming about Miss Lucy's Egyptian mania in our sixth grade class before I had an opportunity to make my own reference to it. A few weeks later Lillian Watkins Wilson burst into laughter at the mention of Egypt: it seem that Lillian once was Miss Lucy's substitute teacher for several weeks and -- you have already guessed it -- the focus was on Miss Lucy's thorough and well-developed Egyptology unit! Miss Lucy herself attributed her Egyptian emphasis on her embarrassment at not knowing the answer to one of PCHS Principal John L. Brewer's trivia questions concerning " Cleopatra's Needle," a situation covered in a previous column.

Readers of that earlier column may recall that with some trepidation, but moving forward under the influence of my memories of Miss Lucy Clemmer's great interest in Egypt, approximately 65 years later, I was going there. I did not plan to write more about the trip, but an incident occurred on the last tour day which, I feel, compels me to use it as the finale to the Miss Lucy-Cleopatra's Needle Saga.

Our total tour group, 142 United States citizens ranging in age from the late fifties to 93, arrived in Cairo on a regularly scheduled Egypt Air Flight on 25 May, and the same 142 left Cairo airport on flights the 7th or 8th of June, depending on their destination. In between much had happened; We did the museums and marveled at the mummies; at Gaza we found pyramids and the Sphinx exactly where Miss Lucy had told her classes they would be; we learned about Egypt's Christian associations; then we flew Egypt Air from Cairo to Aswan, where -- after seeing the Aswan Dam, now controlling the Nile Rive, and Lake Nasser, currently the largest man-made lake, we boarded our riverboat, The Anuket, and spent the next seven days cruising the Nile, stopping to visit ancient ruins, some of which could be said to post-date Miss Lucy's class, their discoveries (or uncovering from layers of sand) having happened since Miss Lucy's time. The riverboat was luxurious, etc., but for me its most distinguishing feature was the machine gun mounted on its rear, manned around the clock by two soldiers. (The problem was not 21st century terrorists, they said; it was old-fashioned river pirates that sometimes appeared on deserted stretches of the Nile.)

When finally the last day came, we were at the Temple of Karnack in Luxor. (I can't resist reminding you of Johnny Carson's turbaned version of The Great Karnack!) The excellent Egyptology lecturer, Iness Hassan, who had been with us the whole trip, ended her historical account and asked for questions. A New York lady standing at my elbow, meekly asked: "Will you tell us about Cleopatra's Needle in Central Park?"

Our learned Egyptologist got a bewildered look on her face, (I honestly think she feared we were trying to play a joke on her), was silent for what seemed like a long time, and finally said, "I know nothing of the matter!"--then turned motioning us to follow.

But no one followed, for a quiet timid voice (I was hardly aware it was mine--no doubt, Miss Lucy, having found her moment, speaking through me, said: "I can tell you about the three Cleopatra's Needles in New York, London, and Paris. . . .!" So I did. Having read the full information in Wikipedia about a month earlier (the high points of which I included in my earlier Miss Lucy column), the story of the three "needles" flowed effortlessly from my lips, ultimately bringing gasps of appreciation from my listeners. When I looked up, Iness was standing in the sun, her arms folded like an ancient pharaoh, looking daggers at me. I later learned that she confided to a small gathering that she had known about the "needle" in Paris, but she volunteered no knowledge of the other two.

So what? Nobody can know everything.

Whatever! Don't you know that Miss Lucy would have to be proud of me. In fact, in that ethereal place where she is certain to be, I wouldn't be surprised if she clapped her hands, shouted "well done" -- and utilizing some of those heavenly advantages at her disposal, did two or three expert cart wheels to mark the terminality to the "needle" affair. I'll bet that caused Principal Brewer's questioning jaws to drop.