20 Years and Counting

Do we ever really grow up?  Can we ever really go home?  Or maybe the question is do we ever really outgrow our insecurities we encountered in our youth? 

You may wonder what brought this up.  Why am I asking these questions now?  Well, at the end of this week I head home to Columbia, South Carolina for my 20^th high school reunion.  As the date gets closer I am feeling more and more anxious.  All of the insecurities, all of the doubts, all of the confusion, all of the promise, all of the dreams I had as a teenager seem to be coming back to me in some weird non-drug induced flashback. 

I will be seeing people I’ve known most of my life, but haven’t seen in 20 years.  Old friends, old rivals, old flames, old teammates, people who long ago were too good for me, and people I could have been nicer to when I had a chance.  Most of us came from modest means. Some had more than others, but when we were in the sand box at Windsor United Methodist Preschool and Windsor Elementary we knew very little of social differences and standing.  We just played super heroes and took naps listening to the “Sound of Music” soundtrack.  We played kickball, hated square dancing in PE and lived for field day.  We had everything in front of us and our parents assured us we were destined for big things.  We progressed through middle school (shout-out to the E.L. Wright Warriors) and started to develop our different talents and personalities.  We all went through that awkward stage (some of us more awkward than others) and we realized that we all weren’t equal.  Some stood out as smart, athletic, artistic, socially adept and others of us seemed to stay in the background.  It was an interesting time to grow up, in a fairly sheltered and mundane part of the world. 

The materialistic 80’s was the backdrop for our formative years.  We were raised on MTV and John Hughes movies made it painfully clear that our lives were not nearly as cool as those rich kids in the Chicago suburbs.  We believed in Reaganomics and Duran Duran.  We went retro with Zeppelin and progressive with the Cure.  We watched the shuttle explode and the Wall come down.  We went from thinking our parents could do no wrong to being certain that our parents knew nothing and couldn’t possibly understand.  Ours was a time when there seemed to be a lull in controversy.  We were winners of the cold war as the Soviet Union embraced capitalism.  We had no war to protest (except the war on drugs).  The economy was growing.  Computers became personal.  It was the “me generation.”

And Columbia, South Carolina was a sleepy town, without much excitement.  Carolina football and the State Fair, soccer leagues, and little league, weekends at the lake, vacations to Myrtle Beach, and homecoming floats were the highlights of each year.  We knew there was a bigger world out there but we weren’t that interested in seeing it.

As we entered Spring Valley High School we knew we were going to close out a decade of decadence (thinly veiled musical reference) as the graduating class of 1990.  And we were going to take over the world, or something along those lines.  We were successful.  We passed tests.  We performed.  We won championships - or came close (I do know the farther in the past it gets the better we were).  An exciting night out was going to “Whiteroads” to park after a football game.   We would listen to music, try to get up the nerve to talk to that girl.  Some would drink beer.  Others would smoke.  I would… well… be the designated driver.   At some point someone (usually of the redneck persuasion) would start a short-lived fight, the police might come and we would scramble.  Ah, those were some memorable nights.

For a few years after we lived on our past accomplishments.  We relived the glory days (musical reference) of our high school success.  Then we realized that everyone else at college had similar stories.  We weren’t overly special.  We were fairly ordinary.  But our parents and teachers had told us we were going to make a difference. 

That realization begs the question: how? How are we going to stand out?  What will we really accomplish?  How will we make an impact on the world?

So what did we become? What were we supposed to become? Did we live up to our potential? Did we live up to expectations? 

Notice how I keep using the pronoun “we” when I should be using “I.”  I don’t presume to be speaking for anyone else.  I am so intimately acquainted with these anxieties, that I find it hard to believe I’m alone.  But these questions are mine alone to answer.

What did I become? What was I supposed to become? Did I live up to my potential? Did I live up to expectations? 

Now it is twenty years later and what are we?  What am I?  I know how I saw myself in high school.  I underachieved or rather, I fell short.  Socially, I felt always on the fringe, through no one’s fault but my own.  Academically, I was in the top group but not near the top of that group.  Athletically, I fought and uphill battle against inferior genetics to gain a modest level of success (sorry Mom and Dad, but come on, look at what I was working with).  And artistically, I had no real interest or talent (except poetry that in retrospect was pretty bad).  But I had high hopes, high expectations, high standards, I was going to be….. something.

So what am I now, as I go back home?  As I go back the place that so greatly influenced who I was and have become, I realize I am what I always was.  A teacher, a coach, a father, a friend, who still has a long way to go.  A boy, now a man that still has promise, that still has dreams, that certainly still has insecurities, but with a perspective that what we have accomplished is seen in the people around us that we affect.

I left South Carolina after graduating and it would be wrong to say that I never looked back, because I do look back.  I look back fondly.  I look back with a bit of melancholy.  I went off to Duke to pursue “bigger things”, then headed to Atlanta to experience the big city (albeit too afraid to leave the comfort of the southeast), and now I am living the suburban life in Plano, Texas (Dallas).  (I shuttle kids to and from soccer practice, but at least I avoided the mini-van.)

I am proud of where I came from.  It made me who I am today.  Though simple and slow, life in South Carolina in the 70’s and 80’s surrounded by the people in my life gave me something.  It gave me a belief in others.  It gave me a perspective that allows me today to give everyone a chance, to not judge too quickly, to show compassion, to help, to understand that hard work is rewarded.  It taught me the lessons, both good and bad that I have built on year after year. 

So who am I?  What did I become?  What great things did I do?  Nothing that will make the history books..

I will not cure cancer.  I will not ensure world peace.  I will not feed all the starving children.  I will not travel in space.  I will not play in the World Cup.  I will not write a best seller (though one day I may get around to trying).  But….one of my students might.  One of my children might.  I am a teacher and a father.  I strive only to be a good and thoughtful person. I strive to be honest, kind, and trustworthy.  At times I fail in even these modest goals. 

I have accomplished some things.  I was a collegiate wrestler but not a very successful one.  I received my degree in neuroscience from Duke, but have not really put that knowledge to use.  I married, have two great kids, got divorced, remarried and now have two great step-daughters.  I have coached state championship soccer teams and taught hundreds of eager minds in AP Biology and AP Psychology classes.  I have made great friends and recently lived a dream of playing cards against the best.  But I’m not done.  I think there is more in front of me. 

With all of the insecurities, with all of the self-doubt, with all of the expectations, I still have promise.  I don’t know what it is, but maybe when my 40^th high school reunion comes around I’ll have tales to tell.

I hope that anyone who reads this entry will leave a comment.  Maybe your thoughts on reunions, going home, living up to expectations, or redefining what is success.  Any and all are welcome.  Next week I hope to reflect on things post reunion event.  Thanks for reading.