The high school football team from the town where I grew up is visiting the community where I live today for a game tomorrow. The following day I have the opportunity to visit some high school friends for a little reunion of sorts over good food and a few drinks.
The two of these events have forced me to do a little thinking (like I need any help with that) and I have come to a determination:
I have a flair for over-dramatization. (I can see the shock on the faces of my friends as they read this)
When people asked me about my high school years, I immediately broke into a diatribe about all the pain and suffering I endured. That by far, those years were the worst of my life and that you couldn’t pay me enough to go back and live them again.
Now, to be fair (or to rationalize this stance of mine…you can decide yourself), not every teenager comes THIS CLOSE to death, TWICE. A brain aneurysm at the tender age of 16 that hospitalizes you for 2 and half months and results in an 8 hour surgery that could have killed you changes your perspective a little bit.
I’d go on, ad nauseam how, even though I was a starter on virtually every sports team in the school, I was a nerd and considered among the “great unwashed” by the class population. I was uninvited to parties, with few friends (certainly no girlfriends) and by and large just not popular in the least.
“Misery… thy name is High School!” I cried.
As I mentioned earlier, these pair of events that are taking place in the next 72 hours, have given me time to think…think about what a JACKASS I was for spreading that bullflop.
What is it about those high school years that make people dramatize them so? Movies, TV programs, songs and novels have been written about them. More importantly to me… why am I so hell bent on making such a big deal about it? Is my bar of achievement set so ridiculously low, that simply making it through 4 years of school is now a badge of honor?
What I “survived” is a pittance compared to what so many can TRULY describe as teenage hardship. I think of gay students learning about their sexuality and being forced to hide it for fear of abuse; poor children whose parents are working two jobs to make ends meet and cant afford the “newest” and the “best” of anything; abused children trying to hide their bruises and scars; visible minorities who deal with racial fear and hatred. THESE PEOPLE can certainly claim high school hardship.
What in the world do I have to complain about? Not the best player on any of the teams I was a part of, I still played a great deal. Traveled to all the tournaments, enjoyed the camaraderie during the bus trips, and honed skills that I have the pleasure of sharing with young men today as a coach.
While it’s true I wasn’t invited to parties, I certainly wasn’t ostracized by anyone. People would talk with me. Ya, they made fun of me at times… but they did that when I was a being a knothead and fully deserved to be made fun of. Nope I didn’t have any girlfriends, but I could talk with virtually any of them and they would talk with me too. I walked to school on a regular basis with some of them and they treated me well.
Just like every kid in high school I desperately wanted to be popular…and then I nearly died.
Coming so close to death on two occasions can change your perspective on things. And I I’m being brutally honest with myself… I was my own worst enemy.
I grew a healthy contempt for the people I tried so hard to be like and with that separated myself from almost everyone. Outside of a very few people, I didn’t allow myself to be close with anyone. “Who needs those idiots anyway? They go out every weekend getting hammered so they blackout and can’t remember anything? Doing drugs…what a bunch of losers…all of them…they can all kiss my ass!” I would pout.
Pathetic.
Looking at the words I just wrote, I can only tell you how ashamed I feel at even thinking them, never mind perpetuating them all these years to any poor sap who was silly enough to mention high school within earshot of me.
It had never dawned on me that ALL of these people are simply trying to make it through these years the best way they can. While some have more advantages than others…even those advantages bring their own set of problems. (Why am I suddenly getting a flashback of The Breakfast Club in my head?)
So I am going to enjoy the game tomorrow, although I am torn on who I am going to cheer for. And I am really going to love getting together with some amazing people that I care for a great deal. And when the conversation invariably turns to the years we spent together... I will reminisce instead of commiserate.
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