Yearbook

There were lots of events back in high school that students looked forward to every year.  The first day of school. Homecoming.  Christmas break.  Science Fair (geeks only).  Spring break.  Senior Week (seniors only).  Prom (non-geeks only).  Snow days (well, if there were such a thing as ‘snow days’ in Florida I’m sure we all would have loved them).  The last day of school (sadly, non-geeks only). 

But there was always one annual event we approached with enthusiasm, excitement and just the right amount of trepidation because we knew in our hearts it was the day the worth of our existence was determined: the signing of the high school yearbook.  Or in many cases the hope that our fellow classmates would sign our high school yearbooks.  After all, this was the day your self-worth was put to the test and you would catch a glimpse of what the future had in store for you.  This was the day you found out if you mattered.

For some students the day the yearbooks were distributed was simply a glorification of their existence for the past nine months.  For others it had the potential to be the most traumatizing event of the entire year; even more so than the time their 1:124 scale model volcano failed to erupt in front of 150 of their fellow peeks (peer + geek = peek) in the city Science Fair.

As for me, I always thought I was somewhere in-between on the glorification/traumatization scale.  On the glorification end of the spectrum I played on a high school athletic team (arguably, since the sport was golf), I played basketball twice a week and could hold my own against the guys on the school team, I dated regularly (arguably) and I was a member of the National Honor Society.  On the traumatization side I didn’t play on the school’s football team (an automatic glorification in our school), I wasn’t a partyer (beer drinker) until the middle of my senior year, I spent a lot more time with my pals than I did with my girlfriends and I was a member of the National Honor Society (yeah, this one could go either way).  Where I wound up on the scale each year was akin to playing a game of Russian roulette.

Sorry to leave you hanging, but the remainder of this tale will be included in

My Life: Everything but

BUY THE BOOK

Part 2

BUT, you ask: 

Part 2?  What happened to Part 1?  Did I miss something?

Fear not!  Part 1 is going to press at this very moment.  

Hopefully it will be available around Labor Day.

As for Part 2, I'm looking at Valentine's Day 2014: a much better

gift for your significant other than flowers or chocolate.

Well, less expensive, anyway.