Sunday Night With John: Glory Days
/It’s impossible to do an event called “Glory Days” and not take a trip down high school memory lane. The first thought I had, while preparing my story for the event, was that, whoever coined the term, “these are the best four years of your life,” was wrong. They probably had peaked way too early in life. As I sat back, wrote down my notes, and, rehearsed my story during my long runs this week, my thoughts drifted to high school memories. While everyone’s high school memories have different details, we all seem to run off the same script. We think about our first kiss, our first love, the big game/concert, the group of friend that got “us”, and how the way we dressed was an expression of who we really were, not the stereotype others created for us.
When I go back to high school, painful memories of loss come rushing back just as much as those of nostalgic late nights with friends. I realize that high school was not my glory days, but very much a time that laid the foundation of whom I would become. Experiencing the death of my father and my friend, Eric, opened up my world to pain, to things not going my way, and to a struggle that caused me to question everything I had ever learned and known about myself. That type of anguish and pain set me on a path to helping others and moved me away from being a selfish human being. While their deaths were painful, they also could be classified as events that led to a better version of me. If I hadn’t experienced those tragedies, I would think that people suffering with mental health issues just need to suck it up, and that homeless people just need to get a job. Life is more complicated than that. The deaths of my dad and Eric taught me that the hard way. It’s tough to admit that two horrific events, that hurt so many, turned me into a better person.
As the years have passed, the memories of hating who I was and what I did during my “Glory Days” have faded, allowing more of the great memories to emerge-- from the game-winning basketball shots to the first time I uttered the words, “I love you,” to my high school sweetheart; from my senior prom to memories of my dad and I playing chess and basketball; and finally, to Eric’s smile as we played video games in his house. Today, I spend my time helping people in numerous ways, and it wasn’t just two tragic events that created this path. It was the many wonderful people who taught me that a well-timed joke can ease the pain, that sweat equity is still the most important asset in the world, and that small town values can have a huge impact. I used to close my eyes and have nightmares thinking about the “Glory Days”. Now, when I close my eyes, my favorite memory from high school appears. I see Eric’s smile. And, it’s that smile that I’m attempting to pass on to as many people as possible.