Craig Rupp
Craig Rupp I first meet little wild-haired Craig Rupp when he's ten-years-old and attempting to steal money from a charity. It's during half-time of the boys' basketball game. Some good folks have grabbed a blanket by its four corners and parade it around our GICC cracker box of a gym. Faithful fans are encouraged to toss coins and wadded up bills into the middle of it for Muscular Dystrophy - surely a noble cause if there ever was one. A brand new first year teacher, I'm squeezed next to the good Central Catholic Sisters in the hot and crowded bleachers when a sturdy little boy with hair like a lion's mane rushes out to the gym floor. In a mad frenzy, he scoops up all the loose change that misses the blanket and stuffs it frantically into his pockets. When he discovers a silver dollar coin, he actually crows in delight and holds it above his head like a trophy. The nuns are apoplectic. "Someone must stop that boy!" It's Sister Mary Leo. Sitting bes