About a month into high school I can remember sitting on the practice field with Chris Hruby, Jim Mitzel and Kevin Sanders. We were just minding our own business when Charlie Hernandez and Don Ardanaz came up and started to make fun of us. They said, "Why don't you guys go blow your horns!" No one laughed as these guys and the other freshman football players thought they were being funny talking about how "gay" we were for being in the band. Finally Chris Hruby said something very amusing about their lack of intelligence that made Charlie Hernandez feel very small. Charlie told Chris "Go To Hell!" Chris's response was, "I did, but they kicked me out for selling you Ice Cream!" Charlie had no idea what to say to Chris. He was so angry, yet he couldn't give an intelligent response. He challenged Chris to a fight immediately. Chris said, "No Thanks, I'm busy." Luckily, Mr. Ickes came by just at that point.
Chris and I have been picked on, like so many other band members from so many years ago. We have learned to deal with the hatred that came with just being a little bit different. I wonder if this hatred made us select the mates that we ended up with. Perhaps that few minutes of hate--over and over again--made us think we were not worthy of a lifetime of love and kindness. Or just kindness? Chris and I have both had a very difficult time with our first mates. Each one has taken more than they have ever given to us. In each case, we thought that the nicer we were to them, the nicer they would be to us. Each time we were wrong. During our High School days, we would smile and try our best to please the other kids in our class--by blowing our horns and marching in an entertaining way. We didn't realize that we were only giving the other members of our class more reasons to make fun of us. We really thought we were trying to make friends.
That is what set us up for life.
I tease our friend Kelly Wilmot Cook about her throwing ice and eggs at me and my band mates during our games. She never did! But, other members of our school did this to us--often! Can you imagine your own classmates throwing ice and eggs at you because you performed for them???? If this happened in this day and age, you can imagine what kind of lawsuit would be attached to this school. How is it that I have this kind of memory and yet still want to come to our class reunion? How is it that Chris came to our 30th reunion? What ever happened to Charlie and Don? What do they remember? How many female classmates thought that Charlie and Don were dreamy and exciting back during the late 70's and early 80's? How would they feel about them right now?
None of us are perfect and none of us peak forever. At some point our balloon loses air. When it does will we be ready? Chris and I have already been at the lowest amount of air, we are ready when that happens again. Are you?
p.s. The fall of our senior year Mr. Seil (our school counselor) came into our classroom and was handing out forms telling each student what type of college they could apply to based on their grades and activities. He called out some folk and would say, "UC schools, Cal state schools, private schools or Norte Dame (that was Nirvanah.) As he called my name he said, "Lester you can go to any school you want!" When he called Don Ardanaz he said, "US Army!" Don walked up took the paper and went back to his seat with his head hanging low. He never looked up again during that class. I would like to say that I took the high road and didn't enjoy his pain. I would like to say that, but I can't. I did enjoy this moment. Some would say, "Karma"...? I don't know about that, maybe he made fun of me because he wasn't as smart and he knew it. Or maybe because I was just an easy target because I was smaller and in the band. No one likes to feel inferior, even if they feel this way in their own mind.
p.s.s. I hate to be so wordy, but here's another quick story. Padraic Brown was another athlete who liked to show how strong he was against a stuttering 120 pound trombone playing "A" student. I was walking down a hallway when Padraic wearing his Letterman Jacket leaned his shoulder down and "Checked" me hard into a locker. Him and his friend laughed as I picked myself up. Thirty years later my good friend Steve Pniewski was in charge of the reunion. Padraic was on the committee and we were going to meet at The Newport Rib company to discuss the menu for the party. This was the first time we would see each other in thirty years. I had prepared myself. I was going to boast about being a doctor (yes, Steve I am a real doctor!) I was going to boast about owning race horses, having a beautiful head of hair, being in great shape and three beautiful kids. Mostly, try and make him feel inferior to me.
When I got there he sat down right next to me and began to talk before I did. He started to confide in me about his life and how he got divorced many years ago and didn't see his son for years. I don't know why he felt comfortable telling me all this, but maybe he felt that I was a nice kid in high school and was a nice adult.
Well, I didn't make him feel inferior. In fact, I felt so bad about what he was telling me that I put my arm around his shoulders and said, "Hang in there, life will get better." I went from an old hate to a sincere concern about his well being in a minute. Unlike Don Ardanaz, I didn't get any satisfaction out of his misery.
Maybe between 18 and 48 I grew a little.
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