Engaging Culture

I had not revisited my high school in years. So on a trip to my hometown I decided to enter that old war zone of my adolecense. You’d think after 26 years I would feel dominant enough to own the place; but the old memories of insecurity that were buried alive reared their ugly heads. I remembered the gut wrenching anxiety I had on the first day of school when everybody was looking to see who had changed, who had filled in, who had grown, and who had acne. I remembered walking down the hall after I made what I thought was a terrifying decision to part my hair in the middle instead of on the side that morning. I saw the “burnout bench” where the druggies would intimidate anyone who stared too long. I recalled John Bubala dressing up in a toga and sitting outside with the “Breakfast Club”.

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