Tome reveals nothing to me
By ARYN CORLEY
I was digging around in my shed looking for something to help me get rid of all the junk piled up inside. More specifically, what I needed was inside of a book.I just knew that the people from the television show “Hoarders” were going to be kicking in my door demanding I dispose of it all. Worse yet, I figured the two women from “How Clean Is Your House” would invade my place to add insult to injury. Poring over the totes, boxes, and bags made me feel as though I was rooting around in the burial chamber of a very unpopular pharaoh.
As I sorted through my piles of meaningful refuse, I found a box marked “HS.” I opened it to discover it was a box of my wife’s high school mementos. It was a big box and it was full!
She was the girl in high school who got good grades and was involved in many clubs and activities. She was in National Honor Society, Who’s Who, 4-H, and the Mickey Mouse club. Inside the box were ribbons, plaques, trophies and other pieces of molded plastic that validated her athletic, as well as academic, achievements.
Basically, she was my high school antithesis. It’s a good thing I married her. You know what they say, “Keep your friends close and your enemies bound by matrimony.” Anyway, I marked the box for disposal and moved on.
The next box was much smaller, about one quarter of the size, and had geckos and roaches pouring out of it. Inside was a yearbook and a letter jacket.
Ah, yes. This was my box of high school memorabilia.
I achieved very little in high school. In fact, I was lucky to have made it out when I did. Unfortunately for me, there were no certificates for those who served the most detention. Failing math classes was something for which I received the most recognition.
Inside the box was my letter jacket from high school. While my friends managed to letter in some form athletic event, I found a way to get a letter jacket without really doing anything.
I lettered in drama. I may have not been able to throw a football, but I could make myself cry on command!
Someday, my children will be bored senseless hearing stories about my glory days as a “thespian.” There, I said it.
Regarding the letter jacket, no girl would ever be caught wearing it. Well, no girl would wear it unless I bribed her with wine coolers. I jammed my hand into the pocket to see if there was anything left of any value. The only thing I found was an old library fine slip for an overdue book titled, “Conquering Procrastination.” At least the jacket has some value as it provides shelter for many small reptiles.
I would have tried it on, except that I’m about 30 pounds heavier now than I was then.
Oink. Oink.
I picked up the yearbook in the bottom of the box. It’s pages were crusty and yellowed; just like the day I’d gotten it. I thumbed through the yearbook while glancing at the faces of the clueless within its pages.
I felt like I was perusing a mug shot catalogue of the world’s dumbest acne riddled criminals. I turned to my own yearbook photo and looked at my former self. I saw a kid who was wracked with puberty and had a really large head. My long hair suggested a rebellious spirit and aloof attitude. In reality, I lacked self confidence and was afraid of being rejected by girls. So little has changed. We didn’t know it then, but we were all having a bad hair day. The ‘80’s were pretty much a whole decade of unapologetic bad hair.
I flipped to the back of the yearbook where I had some of my friends sign and leave their nuggets of prophetic wisdom. One friend wrote, “See you next year!” Judging from my algebra scores back then, that was a very real possibility.
Another friend wrote, “You’re a crazy guy.” I think this friend went on to be a mental health counselor. The most prophetic was from Tina, who wrote,” Stay funny and you’ll go far.” She was right. I’m currently miles away from where I grew up. My sense of humor forced me to uproot and leave town.
It’s hard to believe that 20 years has passed since that time. Compared to the kid in that book, I have more wrinkles, more fat, and a bit more funny. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d stay put. I dropped the book in the box and put it on the shelf.
Finally, I’d found what I was looking for: a book of matches.
