Middle School, Redo

    I’m not much of a masochist, myself. You see, this needed to be done.  It had to be done.  There was indeedno other way around it.  When you’re writing a book that deals with childhood, some of the memories… vivid or otherwise, must be revisited.  You probably already know that not everyone's childhood and middle school time served was exciting and filled with possibility and wonder and snow flakes and cotton candy.  If you were to question my experience from that period of time...none of those aforementioned elements would be present.  Even the few claiming friendship to me left bruises on my face and stab wounds in several places on my back.  You can't see them reflected in the mirror, but trust me...they're there, deep and kept hidden behind humor and sarcasm and neuropathy caused by years of relentless criticism and compounded by self-loathing as a coping mechanism.  Ripping open the scab and seeing the flesh tear away actually hurt worse than witnessing the bloodshed amidst a myriad of feelings.  Quite honestly, I’m not a masochist and I do my best to avoid pain in every sense of the term. Striking flaming hot Cheetos from our grocery list and abstaining from Krispy Kreme glazed donuts has been the most pain I’ve caused myself in recent weeks, perhaps even months. Well, that and a daily stroll on the elliptical quoting the late, great John Pinette with every arm stroke, "Raviolis and a nap!  Raviolis and a nap!"

    Going back in my mind I revisited the lunchroom, that horrible place of emotional trauma and supportive destitute.  Are these the things one should expect for the supposed remaining few short years on this oversized rock?  Everywhere I would turn was another face haunting my past and stealing potential joy in the future.  Little did I know the deep sense of hurt and void of friendship that would be caused by carrying around such grief having formally believed that I had since moved on, move forward, and let it all go.  When you boil it down, you can only scrape or scar a nerve so many times before it goes numb, right?  So...in that sense, surely the pain would stop soon.  Walking back into the school I might as well have been back in the eighth grade. Aside from the mixed aroma of the lunchroom, that rising air of steam from the reheated mac and cheese along with the baked cardboard-like pizza and green beans (because what else would you put with mass produced microwaveable dinners but beans to ensure kids are eating their greens, or at the very least to explain that they were provided knowing you would soon see 80% of those beans returned to the sink washed away with several disappointed servers shaking their heads fully understanding that they are rinsing the healthiest part of the meal down the drain because you can lead a student to school, but you can't make them think, or eat their vegetables.)  The faces of the kids I saw might as well have been the faces from 30 years ago.  In some respects they were.

    I would presume that if you have been able to fully let go of the hurt in your past, then you no longer deal with those demons lurking just behind the shadows of those wretched memories awaiting your walk down that particular lane.  And good for you!  Bravo!  That is a feat that many never achieve, not because of lack of want, perhaps for a lack of understanding how to do so.  I know I have my demons.  Some things, I believe you find are just difficult to let go regardless of how hard you try.  Some might say, "you’re trying too hard, and you simply need to release it into its own black hole of emotional dissent, that luggage one continues to carry around without a destination for he can't seem to put it down, let it go, and move on with his life."  I can not with any degree of accuracy necessarily say that is the best way to deal with the harsh past over written by distress, but nevertheless it still remains and must deal with the fallout the best he or she can.

    I must admit, I didn’t enjoy it. I don’t like it one bit. Those fresh wounds re-opened upon visiting the past like throwing raw steak to a pack of wolves and enjoying the rivalry within the feast. It’s no different than drowning, and every once in a while you’re able to raise your head above water for sharp gasp of fresh air before your muscles give, plunging you into the depths of sadness like "Neverending Story" characters. How does one deal with the past? The best they can, but then again that’s just my humble opinion.

Meet Joe Community

     It’s strange for a person like me who prioritizes community; using dates on the calendar as pin points of interest for potential gatherings - friends and family sharing food, fun, and memories with stye and then some, however one is often told by invitees that there are other items on the calendar to which they must attend: laundry, housework, cleaning.  And then one fine day you wake up to be told that there’s been a death in the family.  The clock stops dead in its tracks.  They drop their familiar duties and events in lieu of this calendar-shattering news and this thing now shifts into priority.  Everyone comes running leaving behind the trivial in their wake.

     I had a volunteer youth pastor friend die several years back due to a horrible carbon-dioxide accident on a weekend camping trip with a group of young teenagers. While sitting at his wake, I was told that funerals are for the living. It did not sink in immediately,  but thinking about those words, and allowing reflection and time for them to absorb I then realized...he was absolutely right. Funerals are obviously a ceremony for those left behind to remember, commemorate, and say goodbye.  There is no being in the beautiful casket.  There is no soul in the ashes.  There is no spirit in the frame.  One might think it strange to invite a photographer to such a somber event, but those who have gone through it once or twice, and prioritize family...know just how difficult it is to reconvene once they've have been scattered throughout the countryside, and rightly so.  Sometimes, relentlessly chasing down our big dreams leads to far away places often making it incredibly difficult to reconnect.  In lieu of such distinction, we attempt to take advantage of an otherwise morbid affair and steal a few snapshots with which we might lovingly update our albums.  Later we can show them to the younger pups who might not recognize Grandpa or who never got to know their Aunt Ida.  Perhaps we don't realize or wish to acknowledge such a fate, but the next time we gather might very well be unintentionally without a few people with whom we put off meeting for far too long.

     One undeniable fact is that funerals bring people together.  Some happy and others not so much.  Some filled with people who loved and was loved by the departed while others still empty, desolate, and void of affection.  If nothing else they are without a doubt a Show-stopper and cause pause for reflection.  How have you lived your life?  Did it matter that you were here?  How did you serve others around you?  How did you love?  Whom did you love?  With whom did you share your gifts?  How did you spend your time?  We no doubt have all heard that hearses lack the ability to pull a Uhaul and that Pharaohs had their wives (living or deceased) and all their riches buried with them fully believing that they would wake on the other side of death to a continued possession.  They seem to place a great deal of emphasis on relationships...at funerals.  they might as well place mirrors all along the hallways of funeral homes to help people emulate what might truly be important as we hear during this time of reflection how essential relationships are in the human journey, and yet when we return home we also generally return to the current program already in progress.

The ceremony, things needing to be said, and the opportunity to say goodbye tends to bring them in for one last hoorah; one final toast; one last look.

     I wonder how often in our own lives have we traded an opportunity to create a memory with a parent, or visiting cousin for the trivial nonsense which could have just as easily waited until tomorrow only to blow up in our face as we lost the ability to catch up with that long lost friend whom we haven't seen in forever.  The irony is that the entire time they will sit around talking about how we all need to get together more and we should have spent more time together in the past.  So…it would most assuredly seem like relationships and time together do at some point in time take priority, but this happens most often and best in hindsight after it’s too late, and we can no longer go back, but then again…that’s just my humble opinion.