The Past As A High School Yearbook Picture

 

 

Mom is purging her domicile in Florida of the past. She is forwarding, to the appropriate brother, ancient documents and pictures. Above is my high school senior yearbook picture. Early 80's look...long hair like a rock star. Normal attire was a flannel shirt and Levi blue jeans. Day in, day out. I went to a preppy high school. This was my commentary on all that scene. I was anti-prep, anti-Izod, etc.

 

I look at the picture and remember the day I walked up to my high school on a Saturday to have the photo taken. I had no car, so walking was my primary mode of transportation. It was a nice Fall day from what I recall. The mile walk to school was peaceful. That year, not so much. Despite outward appearances of the smile, I hated my high school and couldn't wait to leave. Like being paroled from a prison of prep.So, I don't get all sentimental when I look at the yesteryear, wishing somehow that I could be a teenager again. No thanks, once was enough.

 

But, I do marvel about how fast time has gone. Maybe life is like a downhill. The longer you are on it, the faster it goes. Speaking of downhill, I went mountain biking with my best buddy again yesterday. I am pushing 50 years of age and he has crossed that half-century line. As we rode and then walked our bikes through what seemed to be about a mile of pricker bushes--the trail was quite over-grown--I thought that we weren't doing too bad for a couple of old codgers.

 

My buddy is quite a bit tougher than me. He spent three years in Alaska and his level of pain tolerance has elevated considerably. He was using his mountain bike like a battle ram and was powering through the underbrush. There were also spider webs laced across the trail every couple of feet. Gnats buzzed about and I think a mosquito even bit my eyeball, because it stung like hell. I also had the obligatory cuts and bruises. I called my doctor's office today to make sure that my TB shot had been within the last ten years and it was 2007. My dad had advised me to check on that b/c of my last gashing of my calf when mountain biking. I am good TB wise until 2017.

 

I love mountain biking because it is a metaphor for life. Interesting, exhausting, fun, a pain in the ass. After we walked and fought our way through our little Vietnam Jungle yesterday, there were several beautiful and colorful flowers bidding us good-bye as we escaped the swamp. I wish I had my cell phone with me to take a pic. It was fitting denouement and a God thing. My buddy first noticed them and I took a moment to reflect. He commented that I was a good soldier and that he appreciated that I was not complaining. I made a proverbial comment, "What makes you think life is easy, boy?" Just a rhetorical statement of the obvious.

 

I heard it said that "God chooses what we go through, we choose how we go through it." For we are mortal, finite, and fallen beings redeemed by grace and forgiven by mercy. We don't know what life holds, we are just to hold on and try to enjoy the rough ride. And appreciate the flowers along our path.