Saturday, May 5, 2007 12:18 AM CDT
Column: Now that this time has come, there's no hiding from it
By DAVE FOPAY, Staff Writer
dfopay@jg-tc.com
It was as if it were coming at me from 30 different directions. Well, maybe just a few directions, really, but that was enough to set my mind going in about 30 directions, anyway.
It took me back to a long time ago in a place far, far away.
I got home from work one evening recently to hear the answering machine beeping at me. After listening to the message, I deleted it quickly and gave little thought to writing down the phone number that was included, as I didn’t really feel like I wanted to return the call.
A few days later, while planning for a project here at work, I got another jolt in the same direction: a 30-year direction to be exact. I guess I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had to face it. It’s been 30 years since high school.
The phone message was from a high school classmate about our 30-year reunion. Having done my best for most of the last three decades to try to put those years out of my mind, my inclination was to avoid the thought of reuniting with my classmates. I’ve stayed in touch with exactly one of my high school friends over the years, and that’s by choice, so I don’t feel the desire to be forced to mingle with the others now when they generally didn’t want to have anything to do with me back then.
The work project concerned the 30th anniversary of our local hospital, Sarah Bush Lincoln Health Center, and that got me to thinking about it again when I was told it would include a contest to decorate trees on the hospital grounds with themes based on songs of 1977. I immediately hoped for tributes to “Hotel California” and “Heard It in a Love Song” over something honoring, if you could use such a word for a song like this, Shaun Cassiday’s remake of “Da Doo Ron Ron.”
1977 was the year of “Saturday Night Fever,” and I’ll regrettably admit that I did once own a leisure suit. It was also the year of “Star Wars,” which I only reluctantly saw because the girl I was dating wanted to go, and even after that I only thought it was good enough to see another 15 times or so that summer.
Friends and I spent part of that last year in high school trying to figure out the meaning of lyrics of Manfred Mann’s version of “Blinded by the Light.” The second line is “wrapped up a like deuce,” by the way.
By the time I was at college that fall, the catchy tune of The Brothers Johnson’s “Strawberry Letter 23” could be heard in my dorm’s halls, and we wondered what the title meant when the lyrics spoke only of Strawberry Letter 22.
I guess the ensuing years are a better fit with Chicago’s “What a Big Surprise” than Linda Ronstadt’s “It’s So Easy.” We all seemed so sure about our answers to questions like “Whatcha Gonna Do?” but we ended up with so many “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes” along the way.
In 1977, I sure had no idea that I’d end up as a newspaper reporter living just 45 miles from where I grew up and went to high school. I entered college that year at a school from which I would not graduate, studying an area in which I would not end up working.
Ultimately, when it came to my class’ 30th reunion, though, curiosity did get the best of me a little bit. Another classmate tracked down my e-mail address, and I took him up on an offer to send me a link to a class Web site. I’ve glanced at it several times, and while there wasn’t really any info. from people I was longing to see, it was interesting to see what my fellow now-48-year-olds are doing with their lives.
I still don’t think I’ll go to the reunion, but at least now I know when it will be and where it’s taking place. It’s going to be in a park within walking distance of the house where I grew up and where my mother still lives. There are far more than 30 years of memories in that park, the place where I first played on a playground, where I went fishing with grade school friends and where I took my first puppy to run and play.
I might feel like a “Lonely Boy” if I went to the reunion, but certainly not like the “New Kid in Town.”
Dave Fopay is a staff writer for the Journal Gazette/Times-Courier. Contact Fopay at dfopay@jg-tc.com or 348-5733.
Add your comments
Not already registered?
Then click Here.
Comment policy:
JG-TC.com encourages readers to engage in civil conversation with their neighbors. Comments that are submitted are not posted to the site immediately. They go into a queue to be moderated and may take several hours to be reviewed. Comments posted on Saturday may not be reviewed until Sunday afternoon.
In order to keep the page a set width, long lines (mostly long links) will be chopped. Try putting spaces in your links or consider using tinyurl.com to make a smaller link that you can include.
We will never edit or alter your comments, but we do reserve the right to remove comments that violate our code of conduct.
No comment may contain:
* Potentially libelous statements; such as accusing somebody of a crime, defamation of character, or statements that can harm somebody's reputation.
* Obscene, explicit, or racist language.
* Personal attacks, insults, threats, harassment or inciting violence.
* Commercial product promotions.
If you have any questions, please contact our moderator.
|
|
|
Disgusted wrote on May 5, 2007 2:55 AM: