High School, Seriously

Sitting in the large gymnasium this evening at Scona High School, I was almost reduced to tears. No it wasn’t the school jazz group serenading us, although they were good, and it wasn’t the drama team’s opening act of Big Fish either. I found myself fighting back tears at the prospect of my son starting high school there in the Fall. How the hell can he already be old enough to go to high school? Scona did a fine job with their open house, and moved him from I doubt it, to a very strong maybe.

When the hell did I start grade ten, oh right, it was 1985. That was the year “We are the World” topped the charts, the first .com was registered, Coca Cola blundered with New Coke, you could go to a movie for under $3 and if I had the cash or the inkling, I could have bought my first house for $75,000. I was entering grade ten almost thirty-five years ago, and now I have a fifteen year old who is about to do the same. No wonder turning fifty is such a mind-fuck.

We were talking later this evening in the hot tub about what attending high school will be like for him and I remarked that no matter what, he will have a better experience than I did. My kid is the well liked, popular kind of kid, good looking, athletic, friendly, outgoing. Most of the things that I wasn’t in high school. For that I am thankful, and I told him as much. While he finds the academic aspects of school much more difficult than I did, he seems to have the social aspect down. I recounted my awkward years, bright red hair (not cool ginger as it is now) big ears, and glasses, not to mention I was geek before there was geek, and I was an average athlete in a school where there were barely enough people to field most teams. He slid over, after, put his arm around me, and said that he was sorry that I had to go through that. Another thing my kid has on me, EMPATHY; he must get it from his mother.

There are only forty days left for me to revel in my forties. I guess I am entering a twisted sort of personal lent (40 days before Easter) where I get to count down the days until fifty. Typically people give things up for lent, to prepare themselves for the coming of Easter. I don’t think that is the right thing to do in my case. I think my twisted personal lentish period should be filled with doing, noticing, embracing, remembering, reflecting, and maybe a little eating and drinking, but for sure, it should be a time full of “inging”. Then maybe, if I am lucky, I will be prepared to step over the threshold that my son stands pointing at, whether he wants to or not.

A Collection of Poems (I wrote this during 1987 - Grade 12)

I stumbled upon a collection of poems that I penned during what must have been my grade twelve year of high school. I think that they are significant only in that they give me insight into what was rumbling around in my head thirty-one years ago. Oddly enough, some of the same thoughts are still rumbling around in there…. testimony to the reality that age doesn’t in itself produce wisdom. In fact, reading these words with older eyes makes me wonder where some of the wisdom has gone.

These poems were never published in 1987, so I feel it only appropriate that they get published now.

ANTICIPATION

Silence

deep, unnerving

the birds all gone

the leaves all fallen,

and blown away.

The fields all barren

now stored:

grain or hay.

Silence

deep unnerving

waiting only,

for the first feathered flake.

UNCERTAINTY

Often confiding,

daring almost to share,

Often restless,

almost accepting support,

Often doubting,

almost accepting advice,

Often saddened,

accepting cheer, then no!

Often fearful,

nearly accepting comfort,

seldom a friend,

But gladly taken.

THE FARMER

The sky darkens with heavy dark clouds,

rain transcending to the ground.

The stalks heavy laden, ben lazily down.

Hail ten miles over; shells that which

is already on the ground.

Hope flutters like an autumn leaf drifiting

in a breeze.

He sits watching and waiting for a

sign up above.

Time crawls slowly across the plains.

Patience prevails and a new day brings a new

light and new warmth, he looks up

smiling as if greeting an old friend.

Migration near completed; off on cold north

winds.

The lands now silent.

What once was, is now only half.

Struggling on he thinks only of next year.

FRIEND

Caring,

yearning,

listening,

comforting,

loving always in a special way,

seeking,

thinking,

then dropping from view,

resting,

watching,

until needed again.

YEARNING

The sky cold and windy grey,

and as I sat there that day I pondered,

the events of that day,

perhaps is was only in my sight,

yet within it still grows,

to you probably,

always untold,

yet someday, who knows.

The man who sits here may someday seem more bold,

until that day,

I sit here and ponder,

hoping still a sunny day may come,

gazing at hidden stars up yonder,

wanting only for this day,

to finally be done.

THE BEAST (man)

I chanced one day upon a fawn,

a clear could morning early,

just before dawn.

No wind blew.

The grass swayed to the sound of the silence,

each blade shedding a single drop of dew.

I pondered then on man’s great achievements in science,

though never able to create the simplest form of life.

Yet I marvelled at the beauty of nature

before my eyes.

The pines awaiting the breath of day,

across the meadow up on a hill I spotted the doe,

watching me; seemingly with perfect trust.

Through the trees the sun now rose,'

and as I walked away, a shot shattered the silence.

My heart filled with rage, my mind with shame,

and I pondered once more,

Man’s Great Achievements In Science.

GRADUATION

For most

eighteen years do pass,

slowly at first,

then almost too fast,

hurts, wants, goals, failings, wins,

losses, friends, shadows,

all are now past.

For most,

parties,

some seldom not,

but one remains!

Anticipation arises,

childhood dreams now dying,

friends crying,

come what may,

yet always take the time to ponder the past,

yesterday,

life goes on

but memories always last.