At the time, high school seemed like an endless blur of classes, practices, weekend get-togethers, ball games, taking notes, finding ways to get out of study hall and generally having a great time.
For me, my friends were my neighbors, my classmates and my teammates, and I just didn't know any other way of living.
I am someone who has good memories of high school. I had a lot of really great friends, and by general consensus, a very successful class. When Kenny Chesney sings, "I Go Back," I identify with every word.
I go back...whenever I hear a song by the Eagles or Boston or the Bee Gees on the radio.
I go back...whenever I see a teenage boy with braces, with hair down over his ears, with a voice that is struggling to go deeper, and with an eye on a cute girl he cannot imagine ever talking to, let alone going out with. (Okay, so not all high school memories are entirely pleasant).
And I go back...whenever life circumstances pull my friends and me back together. Sometimes, it is because of a reunion. Other times, it is because of a wedding or a big birthday party (by the way, when did 50 suddenly seem so young?). But more often than I wish, it is because of something bad -- like sickness or death.
Unfortunately, that seems to happening a lot any more. My friend Danny Griffith lost his brother Steve just over a year ago. My family mourned my sister Julie’s passing earlier this year. And then just last week, our friend Steve Dalton watched his wife of 32 years, Carmen, take her last breath, a victim of cancer.
These are moments that make all of us pick up the phone. If, years ago, our discussions were about whose house the card games would be played or whether practice would be cancelled, our conversations now seem to take a deeper tone in a much quicker fashion.
“Man, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. Let me know if there is anything I can do. God bless you.”
It is heartfelt, and meaningful. I don’t know about you, but when life nowadays gets upsetting or challenging, it is especially comforting to hear the voice or see the face of someone who was there, in happier times, a generation ago.
We’ve done more than just had lunch together. We’ve done life together. I think looking back often helps in moving forward.
I’M NOT SURE WHY IT IS, but the past always seems to have this aura of beauty about it. Everything was fun. Everyone was happy. It was such a nicer, gentler time than the days right now.
Joe Walsh is a member of the Eagles, a band that pretty much defines the Seventies – which was our time. He offers these insightful words in an Eagles documentary that is out now: “As you live your life, it appears to be anarchy and chaos and random events, smashing into each other. And then one day something happens, and it just looks like, ‘What in the world is going on?’ And later, you look back on it, and it looks like a finely crafted novel.”
Isn’t that awesome? Not bad for a guy who was can’t remember the Eighties because he was stoned.
When I hear Joe Walsh play the opening chords of “Life In The Fast Lane,” I instantly go back to 1977. I’m in Steve’s Camaro running to the park or McDonald’s or to Griff’s house for a night of playing cards.
I’m on my driveway playing basketball with Dave Baker, Jerry Collins, Dave ‘Silk’ Back, Rick Wheeler and Kevin Hollon.
I’m at basketball practice with Coach Dave Creech, Griff, Jerry, Joe Byrne, Kenny Haney, Tree Taylor, Rick Chamberlain and Jamie Wines.
I love all those memories. There was no way at the time that I could fully appreciate how much fun I was having, and how powerful the recollection of them would be when I was one day the unthinkable age of 53.
I go back. I love going back.
IN A MONTH OR SO, the plan is for Steve to fly up from his home in Houston to spend a weekend with us. Condolences will be offered. Sympathies will be shared. We will all slip away from our lives to make time to be around Steve, because there is no doubt this is and has been the hardest time of his life.
But, eventually, we will pick up and go. Life moves on. Maybe we’ll go to a Franklin basketball game, and likely we’ll spend an evening playing cards and telling stories.
Pretty soon, the conversations will turn south, just like they always did years ago. “Dang, you’re a pig. Have those socks been washed in the last three years? Remember when we were in Daytona Beach and the lights up and down the strip went out? I bid five.”
We will laugh. We will celebrate a lifetime of friendship. And there will be nothing better.
Somewhere in all of that, Kenny Chesney will come on the iPod, and we will go back:
“And I go back to the smell of an old gym floor /
The taste of salt on the (Daytona) shore /
After graduation and drinkin’ goodbye to friends /
“And I go back to watchin’ summer fade to fall /
Growing up too fast, I do recall /
Wishing time could stop right in its tracks.
Every time I hear that song,
I go back.”
THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN in 2005 at a charity golf tournament at Shaker Run G.C. From left to right, that’s Coach Creech, Bake, Silk, Steve, Jer, Griff and me.
If the same lineup had been photographed 35 years ago, there would have been a lot less grey hair and no wrinkles. None of us teenagers had jobs, wives, children or mortgages.
We just had fun.
Nowadays, amid the challenges and struggles of day-to-day life, we still have fun, especially when we go back.
It helps us move forward. Only now we’re not in the fast lane.
-- by Jeff Kirby
December 11, 2013
For me, my friends were my neighbors, my classmates and my teammates, and I just didn't know any other way of living.
I am someone who has good memories of high school. I had a lot of really great friends, and by general consensus, a very successful class. When Kenny Chesney sings, "I Go Back," I identify with every word.
I go back...whenever I hear a song by the Eagles or Boston or the Bee Gees on the radio.
I go back...whenever I see a teenage boy with braces, with hair down over his ears, with a voice that is struggling to go deeper, and with an eye on a cute girl he cannot imagine ever talking to, let alone going out with. (Okay, so not all high school memories are entirely pleasant).
And I go back...whenever life circumstances pull my friends and me back together. Sometimes, it is because of a reunion. Other times, it is because of a wedding or a big birthday party (by the way, when did 50 suddenly seem so young?). But more often than I wish, it is because of something bad -- like sickness or death.
Unfortunately, that seems to happening a lot any more. My friend Danny Griffith lost his brother Steve just over a year ago. My family mourned my sister Julie’s passing earlier this year. And then just last week, our friend Steve Dalton watched his wife of 32 years, Carmen, take her last breath, a victim of cancer.
These are moments that make all of us pick up the phone. If, years ago, our discussions were about whose house the card games would be played or whether practice would be cancelled, our conversations now seem to take a deeper tone in a much quicker fashion.
“Man, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. Let me know if there is anything I can do. God bless you.”
It is heartfelt, and meaningful. I don’t know about you, but when life nowadays gets upsetting or challenging, it is especially comforting to hear the voice or see the face of someone who was there, in happier times, a generation ago.
We’ve done more than just had lunch together. We’ve done life together. I think looking back often helps in moving forward.
I’M NOT SURE WHY IT IS, but the past always seems to have this aura of beauty about it. Everything was fun. Everyone was happy. It was such a nicer, gentler time than the days right now.
Joe Walsh is a member of the Eagles, a band that pretty much defines the Seventies – which was our time. He offers these insightful words in an Eagles documentary that is out now: “As you live your life, it appears to be anarchy and chaos and random events, smashing into each other. And then one day something happens, and it just looks like, ‘What in the world is going on?’ And later, you look back on it, and it looks like a finely crafted novel.”
Isn’t that awesome? Not bad for a guy who was can’t remember the Eighties because he was stoned.
When I hear Joe Walsh play the opening chords of “Life In The Fast Lane,” I instantly go back to 1977. I’m in Steve’s Camaro running to the park or McDonald’s or to Griff’s house for a night of playing cards.
I’m on my driveway playing basketball with Dave Baker, Jerry Collins, Dave ‘Silk’ Back, Rick Wheeler and Kevin Hollon.
I’m at basketball practice with Coach Dave Creech, Griff, Jerry, Joe Byrne, Kenny Haney, Tree Taylor, Rick Chamberlain and Jamie Wines.
I love all those memories. There was no way at the time that I could fully appreciate how much fun I was having, and how powerful the recollection of them would be when I was one day the unthinkable age of 53.
I go back. I love going back.
IN A MONTH OR SO, the plan is for Steve to fly up from his home in Houston to spend a weekend with us. Condolences will be offered. Sympathies will be shared. We will all slip away from our lives to make time to be around Steve, because there is no doubt this is and has been the hardest time of his life.
But, eventually, we will pick up and go. Life moves on. Maybe we’ll go to a Franklin basketball game, and likely we’ll spend an evening playing cards and telling stories.
Pretty soon, the conversations will turn south, just like they always did years ago. “Dang, you’re a pig. Have those socks been washed in the last three years? Remember when we were in Daytona Beach and the lights up and down the strip went out? I bid five.”
We will laugh. We will celebrate a lifetime of friendship. And there will be nothing better.
Somewhere in all of that, Kenny Chesney will come on the iPod, and we will go back:
“And I go back to the smell of an old gym floor /
The taste of salt on the (Daytona) shore /
After graduation and drinkin’ goodbye to friends /
“And I go back to watchin’ summer fade to fall /
Growing up too fast, I do recall /
Wishing time could stop right in its tracks.
Every time I hear that song,
I go back.”
THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS TAKEN in 2005 at a charity golf tournament at Shaker Run G.C. From left to right, that’s Coach Creech, Bake, Silk, Steve, Jer, Griff and me.
If the same lineup had been photographed 35 years ago, there would have been a lot less grey hair and no wrinkles. None of us teenagers had jobs, wives, children or mortgages.
We just had fun.
Nowadays, amid the challenges and struggles of day-to-day life, we still have fun, especially when we go back.
It helps us move forward. Only now we’re not in the fast lane.
-- by Jeff Kirby
December 11, 2013