Sunday, September 23, 2012


Long before Creative Memories and the Digital Era, I was a scrapbooker.  I used to stuff binders full of newspaper clippings, cards and photographs, and sometimes type captions (on a typewriter) to cut out and place underneath each picture.  The albums I used were the kind that had full sheet adhesive pages with the plastic overlay.  I didn't realize then just how strong that adhesive was.  Now, twenty years later, trying to take a picture out to scan is like trying to pry your fingers apart after someone dares you to Super Glue them together.

Every now and then, I unearth those albums and reminisce through the pages.  I can honestly say that my four years of highschool were good years.  Eventful years.  Growing years.  College was its own mixed bag and definitely harder for me than highschool ever was.  I mean, independence wasn't something I rushed in to.  From a baby's age, I clung to my parents.  Apparently, I used to cry insufferably if left with anyone else, that one church nursery requested I not come back.  I remember sobbing to the point of throwing up when I went away to summer camp.  And let's not even talk about my nervous bladder.  Once I grew out of my separation anxiety, I flourished. Junior high and highschool were the years I came in to my own as a teenager.  

It seems like things haven't changed much for young people by way of social pressures and relational drama.  There are still cliques and lunchroom hierarchies, popular kids and rejects.  But now, girls have simpler hairstyles than boys do, skirts are much shorter, parents allow body parts (other than ears) to be pierced before the age of eighteen, and technology is far superior than when I was in school.  Still, the energy is the same.  Kids sorting through emotions, and getting excited about things like football games and fancy shoes; it's the same now as it was two decades ago.

I didn't realize I missed it until we found ourselves engaged in a weekend of activities for Medina High School's Homecoming.  We live a block away from campus, which afforded us the best seats for Thursday's parade (right outside our front door), a short walk to the stadium for Friday's football game (with a sideline view, thanks to Mark & Jackie Loomis - our friends and longtime teachers at MHS), and a quick drive for me to see one of my youth girls (Owen) all dolled up before Saturday's dance.

In the spirit of semi-formals, I untaped the box in the basement with my old photo albums and found the picture from my first Homecoming dance.  It was 1990.  I was fifteen.

I posted it on Facebook.  

Next year, my graduating class celebrates twenty years ("The way to be is '93!").  Hard to believe it's been that long!  I look forward to seeing some of my oldest friends again.

For sure the scrapbook is coming with me.

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