Maybe it's because I'm slightly nutty with all these boxes around, me forgetting what day it is and what I'm supposed to be doing that made me want to get in touch with people from high school. I must be losing it to even consider this because my No. 1 goal when finally walking across that stage, getting my diploma, surviving an ill-advised trip to Myrtle Beach, S.C. and packing up all my junk and moving to my college (crying as my folks pulled away in their blue station wagon) was to forget all about high school and that little shit who gave me a bloody nose in third grade. (Later, my mom ran over his dog by accident. Karma is a bitch.)
In my list of things to accomplish in life, "forget high school" is checked off, for better or worse. I haven't managed to check off "become fluent in another language" or "win a Pulitzer." But at least one thing is checked off! And I couldn't be prouder!
That said, I can admit that I do get a twinge of nostalgia when my current friends talk and/or do fun things with their high school friends like GO SEE THE POLICE IN CHICAGO FROM BOX SEATS AT WRIGLEY STADIUM. (Dammit, SG!)
So did you think this was going to be all about my high school? That I had some great realization that my past is worth dredging up, worth reconnecting to, worth reconciling with? Ah, you have such high hopes for me. Thanks! (Though I did, in all honesty, send an e-mail out to try to find Peter who used to direct the aforementioned Teens Camping Tour of the West. No luck yet. Will update if that changes...)
Nope, here's a little something from my road trip with The Only Boy Who Didn't Scare The Shit Out of Me To Whom I Am Now Married. AKA: Pat. This summer we visited his high school boarding school in Ohio, Olney Friends School in Barnesville, where he spent three semesters instead of going to military school. It is surrounded by rolling green fields and bucolic views of cows munching on grass and intense blue skies and super sweet afternoons where you just want to nap in the grass. It's that beautiful, people, and makes any story I have to tell about going to Davie County High School terribly sad. Here's photographic proof!
(NOTE: If this moves too quickly, hit pause and manually click forward using the arrows.)
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2 comments:
Wow! Those pictures are great! It makes me ache a little to visit the state that is "first in aviation"... That drive Russ nuts when I say that. Last night I dreamt about the homemade candy store in the town where I was born in OH.
That school looks nice, I wish I went to High School with cows instead of snotty rich Cary buttholes. (except for my friend who got me box seats at Wrigley!! She is nice.)
SG
this made me tear (teer, not tare) up, man. i'm afflicted with the pms. (wait, that's not what made me tear up -- i mean, maybe it is -- but mostly it's because that's the sweetest slideshow i ever seen, lonesome but good, here). and this week, i hate living in my hometown. i wish i could be anywhere else but this town. xoxoxoxo
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