Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#242 In which our hero looks at high school photos, part 2

Right back to the fun:


Well sweety, this is it. We are going to be forced in to the real world. God help us... and the real world. Thank you for all you've given me. You've been one of the main influences on my life and I know I will always remember your quick wit and honest humor.

Thank for being there and don't forget those wonderful moments of high-school. Thanx for being you.

Love ya,
Michele are I spent a lot of time together in HS. That said, I don’t know if I was one of the main influences in her life… maybe I was and just didn’t realize it at the time. I wonder if she looks back and still thinks that? Everything in high school is so d r a m a t i c, but years later it all seems so minor. To me, at least. But Michele was a good friend. If I could travel back in time I would tell her never to date my friend Eric, because I knew at the time it was a bad, bad idea. But I kept my mouth shut and it ended badly, as I knew it would. Sorry about that.


This isn't easy trying to think of what to write. Your friendship has meant more to me than I think you realize. I can always count on you for an honest opinion, even if it's not what I want to hear. I respect you for being so honest. We've had some great times in the plays, EPIC is questionable, but what do you expect... I really don't need to wish you luck with your presonality and "CHARM" you'll be successful in whatever you do. I only thank you for the memories and hope there will be more to come before this year is over.

Love Ya,

Boy, I thought posting these photos would be a lark, a little ha-ha weren’t we all so shallow in high school? sort of thing. But when I re-read these, and some of the clearly heart-felt messages written on them, I’m starting to feel like a bit of an asshole.

Susan and I were pretty good friends in our senior year. We were co-editors of the school newspaper (“The Epic”). For a time, Susan really wanted to date me, but I knew it wouldn’t work. And for perhaps the only time in my life I put aside any potential for, ahem, “physical gratification” and stuck with just being friends. Because being boyfriend/girlfriend would never have worked, and probably would have ended in tears. I don’t know what she’s getting at with my “CHARM,” but I choose to take it as a compliment. And I don’t remember what the “TOOTS” thing was either. Did I actually call her “Toots”? Good Lord, I was queer.

Susan was the main contact for the first 15 years of high school reunions, so I got to catch up with her every five years. She’s married, has kids, never left town. She seems happy, and I’m happy for her.


To a real sweet guy that has a great personality. You have been a real special friend to me ~ Don't forget all the great times we've shared ~ Good-luck in all you do!


Thank God, back to the meaningless platitudes! Nothing to question or feel guilty about here. I don’t remember sharing any good times with Missie, really; unless she’s talking about field trips or whatever. And I would remember, because I wanted to share “good times” with Missie (if you know what I mean) in the worst way. Me and every other boy in the class. But, if I remember correctly, ended up dating an older guy from our arch-rival high school. Maybe even marrying him? Can’t remember.


To the sweetest boy in our class. Remember all the good times our class has had. You're a very talented person and I know you will always succeed. Good luck in the future and in everything you do.

Love, Carol
Carol was a really nice person. We sat next to each other in several classes. That’s really all I can think to say about Carol.


To a really special guy that I've had alot of great times with. Remember our affair in 6th grade + Camp Fitch. And of course the one acts. Good luck in all you do. You deserve the best + I know you'll go far. Please stay in touch.



Dionne was my first girlfriend. And I use “girlfriend” in the loosest sense… this was only 6th grade after all. We talked on the phone, went to a couple of dances together (driven by my father) and finally kissed. My first kiss, I believe. It’s hard to remember such an innocent time, when kissing was a big deal, and tongue kissing (!!) was going “all the way.” The Camp Fitch she mentions was a camp on Lake Erie that my class went to for something like four days. It was in the dead of winter, we stayed in cabins (boys in one, girls in the other, naturally) and high school seniors were our chaperones. Here’s the two things that stand out most in my memory about Camp Fitch:

One night someone crapped his pants. And instead of chucking the evidence out into the woods or just stuffing it in the trash can, he left his nasty underwear in the shower. This was reported to our senior counselors, and they made us all strip down to our underwear and stand in a line while they checked the brand we were wearing to the “tainted” underwear. One kid was horribly upset and burst out into tears because he was wearing the same brand, even though the evidence was nowhere close to his size. I think they finally found the culprit, or at least a convenient scapegoat, and made him hike into the woods and bury his stinky shorts.

My other memory (and oddly, also poop-related) was the bus ride home. It was something like three hours. I had to go to the bathroom before we left, but for whatever reason I didn’t get the opportunity before we had to load up on the bus. I had to poop SO. BAD. I was sweating bullets the whole way home. I remember that Dionne was really made at me that I didn’t sit next to her on the bus. But I was afraid to, just in case the worst case scenario played out. But the story has a happy ending: I made it back without incident, bolted into the middle school and took care of business before my folks came to pick me up.

I suspect Dionne’s memories of the trip differ from mine. She probably was thinking of us holding hands around the fire while people told ghost stories or sledding down some serious hills. Sadly, our innocent romance didn’t last much longer after Camp Fitch.

One more batch of photos to go!



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