The Freshmen

It's funny because at the time, we were so strange and so complicated.

All of us.

The Farmer Teds.  The Stifflers.  The McLovins.  The Spicolis.  The Claires.  The Ferris Buellers.  The Heathers.

I graduated in a class of thirty two at a small Christian school in 1989.  A school with roughly 120 students.

It seems like yesterday. 

As an awkward freshman to an overconfident senor, I can tell you, I was no different than anyone else.  At least, when it came to hopes and dreams.

At the age of 18, everything is intact.  Our circle of friends.  Our self-assurance.  Our anxiety. 

Our immortality.

I drank and smoked pot like there was no tomorrow.  Ironically, I overindulged on everything because I believed I had countless tomorrows.


Something happened between then and now. 

The circle of friends is broken. 
The self-assurance is shaky.
The anxiety is high.

And, well, that immortality, two of my classmates have proven, there is no such thing.


We begin as outsiders and then evolve to insiders.
From innocent to experienced.
Thin skinned to layers and layers of skin grown over.
That shining city on a hill to Rome.

Everyone has the same high school story; regardless who we were.

Twenty something years later, those friendships have been reduced to an occasional comment on our Facebook pages.  Old crushes and past love interests are merely profiles to visit when we want to see if we dodged a bullet or if we missed the proverbial boat to happily ever after.

Thank God for yearbooks.  More so, thank God, Facebook didn't exist back then.

Some things are better left intimate.  And high school was just that; an intimate experience.


The two classmates we lost weren't kids I liked.  To a degree, I was one of their tormentors.

But when we lost them, when they left us, I tell you this; it hit me hard.  I suppose when you spend the four most crucial years of your life with a group of people, regardless if you got along at the time, it will hurt.

It hurts because they are a piece of who we are today. 
It hurts because it reminds us of the fragility of our existence.

That window of invincibility is shattered when we lose anyone we knew from that intimate setting during those four challenging years.


It's funny remembering each person I shared that time period with... Those nicely worn labels we slapped on each other.  The battles of wills and wits.  The constant struggles for acceptance.  The dire need to be perceived as someone.  The pettiness and temporary bouts of cruelty.

All of it is funny now.


The first day on campus as a freshman, I was an awkward, skinny kid just hoping I would make a friend or two.

On graduation night four years later, I threw my cap in the air knowing I was now a man; surrounded by life long friends with memories that are so intimate that I will never dare tarnish them by trivializing any single person's impact on my life during that significant yet short time period.

We were so strange and so complicated.  All of us.

So much so, it actually made each of us....

beautiful.