Written on 7-21-15.
Tomorrow I will host my first ever Certification Night for The First Tee. I look forward to seeing the participants who will choose to come and give it a go.
I’ve just spent the past weekend at Mom and Dad’s for my 30th high school reunion, and I had a blast. It was so fun to see everyone, and I am social (at the far end of the spectrum compared to most), so I felt right at home speaking with anybody and everybody.
I really enjoyed spending time at Joe’s new place on Friday afternoon visiting with Jim, his girlfriend Jill, and of course Joe. We perused my two yearbooks, laughed, shared stories, and then we laughed some more. The four of us also had some serious moments speaking about suicide, bullying (some bullying actually coming from a teacher), and inspirational teachers too, most specifically Duane Lewis and Becky Porter. I had no idea, but it makes perfect sense, that Becky was instrumental in inspiring Jim toward his path in life as well.
On Friday evening, we convinced Joe to...
come to Fuzzy’s Tacos in olde town Arvada for the first event of the reunion. Darrell met us at Mom and Dad’s place where we continued with more silly and serious stories and other fun conversations.
Darrell and I drove together, so he and I could catch up. On the way, I told him about Belinda’s MS, and I felt guilty for not telling him sooner. He gave me an update on Eric (last name) and some others. We also reminisced about some of the girls from Smoky Hill, mostly the girl who ripped off his rear view mirror and messed with his radio in his beloved Chevy pick-up truck. Ah, good times, good times. I was impressed with Darrell for leaving his family for a day and a night in order to come be with us. He rented a milky white Jeep Cherokee with a hood that was askew from a Mom and Pop place in Steamboat Springs. It had over 100,000 miles, but it did what he needed it to do. I really appreciated him coming; that was a big sacrifice, and I hope he wasn’t disappointed.
We arrived at Fuzzy’s an hour before the reunion, and that was fine with me. It gave us a chance to order some tacos and visit even more. Just before everyone else started arriving, Joe’s girl, Tammy, came up the steps to where we were sitting on the mezzanine. When it was close to 7:30, I went downstairs to go to the bathroom and refill my drink, and that’s when it all started.
Smiles, hints of recognition, tentative hand waves of initial greeting, full recognition, hugs or firm handshakes, bigger smiles, and then the ensuing catching-up conversations. This process repeated itself, taking different forms each time, but with a similar pattern for the next six hours. I enjoyed catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in years, and I also enjoyed meeting and getting to know new friends who were either complete strangers in high school or merely acquaintances way back then.
It ended in the men’s room. Let me explain. When only a dozen or more of us were left, and the young ladies who worked there were sweeping the stuff out under the tables, I left to go to the bathroom one last time (too many iced teas, but I needed them for hydration with all those conversations).
I caught up with another fellow alum, and I pressed like I had with the others. “How’s your life? Tell me about it.”
He hesitated at first, but I pushed some more. “That’s why we’re here. How are you doing?”
Well, he was going through a divorce, it turns out. He was rebooting his life because of it, and he was looking at getting a new place near the school where his teenage daughter would be attending this fall. We then had conversations about putting it all into perspective. I told him about Belinda’s MS, and he mentioned a father he had heard about in the news who had lost his entire family in a horrible accident. We both agreed we were doing better than others, and things could always be worse. I couldn't leave the bathroom, though, not with him baring his soul to me like that and my sharing my sob story with him, too. I didn’t want to leave anyway. I certainly cared about him and his awful situation; it didn’t matter where we were. He stood by the door, and I by the newfangled wave hand drier for what was probably twenty minutes to a half hour.
When we came out, we were the only ones left…except for the sweeping girls. We figured our rides thought we had gotten another ride to a nearby tavern where the party was supposed to continue, but we hadn’t. I had to dig in my backpack (I brought my two yearbooks to Fuzzy’s, too) to find my iPhone because someone had generously scooped it all up for me and put it in there, but my backpack was black and it was dark outside. Finally, I found it and I called Darrell, but he didn’t pick up. Then he pulled up. We all climbed in, and after one full loop, some dropped phone calls, some texts, some directions, one mistaken tavern, some cursing, and some persistence, we found the correct tavern, dropped off my bathroom soul-baring buddy and headed home.
Tomorrow I will host my first ever Certification Night for The First Tee. I look forward to seeing the participants who will choose to come and give it a go.
I’ve just spent the past weekend at Mom and Dad’s for my 30th high school reunion, and I had a blast. It was so fun to see everyone, and I am social (at the far end of the spectrum compared to most), so I felt right at home speaking with anybody and everybody.
I really enjoyed spending time at Joe’s new place on Friday afternoon visiting with Jim, his girlfriend Jill, and of course Joe. We perused my two yearbooks, laughed, shared stories, and then we laughed some more. The four of us also had some serious moments speaking about suicide, bullying (some bullying actually coming from a teacher), and inspirational teachers too, most specifically Duane Lewis and Becky Porter. I had no idea, but it makes perfect sense, that Becky was instrumental in inspiring Jim toward his path in life as well.
On Friday evening, we convinced Joe to...
come to Fuzzy’s Tacos in olde town Arvada for the first event of the reunion. Darrell met us at Mom and Dad’s place where we continued with more silly and serious stories and other fun conversations.
Darrell and I drove together, so he and I could catch up. On the way, I told him about Belinda’s MS, and I felt guilty for not telling him sooner. He gave me an update on Eric (last name) and some others. We also reminisced about some of the girls from Smoky Hill, mostly the girl who ripped off his rear view mirror and messed with his radio in his beloved Chevy pick-up truck. Ah, good times, good times. I was impressed with Darrell for leaving his family for a day and a night in order to come be with us. He rented a milky white Jeep Cherokee with a hood that was askew from a Mom and Pop place in Steamboat Springs. It had over 100,000 miles, but it did what he needed it to do. I really appreciated him coming; that was a big sacrifice, and I hope he wasn’t disappointed.
We arrived at Fuzzy’s an hour before the reunion, and that was fine with me. It gave us a chance to order some tacos and visit even more. Just before everyone else started arriving, Joe’s girl, Tammy, came up the steps to where we were sitting on the mezzanine. When it was close to 7:30, I went downstairs to go to the bathroom and refill my drink, and that’s when it all started.
Smiles, hints of recognition, tentative hand waves of initial greeting, full recognition, hugs or firm handshakes, bigger smiles, and then the ensuing catching-up conversations. This process repeated itself, taking different forms each time, but with a similar pattern for the next six hours. I enjoyed catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in years, and I also enjoyed meeting and getting to know new friends who were either complete strangers in high school or merely acquaintances way back then.
It ended in the men’s room. Let me explain. When only a dozen or more of us were left, and the young ladies who worked there were sweeping the stuff out under the tables, I left to go to the bathroom one last time (too many iced teas, but I needed them for hydration with all those conversations).
I caught up with another fellow alum, and I pressed like I had with the others. “How’s your life? Tell me about it.”
He hesitated at first, but I pushed some more. “That’s why we’re here. How are you doing?”
Well, he was going through a divorce, it turns out. He was rebooting his life because of it, and he was looking at getting a new place near the school where his teenage daughter would be attending this fall. We then had conversations about putting it all into perspective. I told him about Belinda’s MS, and he mentioned a father he had heard about in the news who had lost his entire family in a horrible accident. We both agreed we were doing better than others, and things could always be worse. I couldn't leave the bathroom, though, not with him baring his soul to me like that and my sharing my sob story with him, too. I didn’t want to leave anyway. I certainly cared about him and his awful situation; it didn’t matter where we were. He stood by the door, and I by the newfangled wave hand drier for what was probably twenty minutes to a half hour.
When we came out, we were the only ones left…except for the sweeping girls. We figured our rides thought we had gotten another ride to a nearby tavern where the party was supposed to continue, but we hadn’t. I had to dig in my backpack (I brought my two yearbooks to Fuzzy’s, too) to find my iPhone because someone had generously scooped it all up for me and put it in there, but my backpack was black and it was dark outside. Finally, I found it and I called Darrell, but he didn’t pick up. Then he pulled up. We all climbed in, and after one full loop, some dropped phone calls, some texts, some directions, one mistaken tavern, some cursing, and some persistence, we found the correct tavern, dropped off my bathroom soul-baring buddy and headed home.
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