This coming weekend, I'll be attending a 50th anniversary high school reunion. Not MY 50th anniversary reunion; I won't be that old until, y'know, next year. Let's not rush this aging thing, people. But I had friends in the Class of 1976 (including two people who remain among my all-time best buds), and I've been given the opportunity to crash the 1976-2026 celebratory soiree. It should be a good time, and I'm looking forward to it.
As this event approaches, I've started to think (again) about who I was in 1976. I was sixteen. By then, I'd already determined that I wanted to be a writer, and I was the assistant editor of our high school...newspaper? Literary magazine? The NorthCaster was closer to the latter description, and our work in '76 earned some kind of official recognition from the Empire State School Press Association (top twenty in the state, or something like that). My main interest was getting my own writing published, usually humor pieces that were--trust me!--hilarious. No, really. The one time I got forced into approximating journalism (a puff piece about the school bookstore), I went out of my way to inject dollops of humor and personality. I was a failure at most mundane tasks. Writing was the only thing I could do well.
(I remember collaborating with my friends Beth [Class of '76] and Dan [Class of '77, and the editor I theoretically assisted] on a snarky faux teen multiple-choice questionnaire they'd concocted. The only specific bit I recall from that piece was their set-up of I have poked myself in the eye with a coke spoon? A) Yes B) No, to which I added C) I'm sorry, I can't see the question. I'm pretty sure this wasn't published.)
I did not have a girlfriend. i did have friends (boys and girls), and in the popular parlance of the '70s, I had begun to party. I took Driver's Ed in the summer. I read comic books, pulp paperbacks, and as much Harlan Ellison as I could. I listened to music, mostly oldies from the 1960s, and my radio allegiance began to shift from AM Top 40 to freer-form FM. The end of that year would commence my 1976-77 rock 'n' roll crucible, as I saw my first rock concert (KISS) and discovered acts like the Kinks, the Ramones, Graham Parker, Nick Lowe, the Rubinoos, the Sex Pistols, Greg Kihn, Blondie, the Runaways, Patti Smith, Television, the Dictators, and more.
And I started to get girlfriends. A gentleman should offer no further details.
High school was not a good time, though I guess it really wasn't worse than any other time. I've always dealt with feelings of self-doubt and occasional depression, and none of that is unique to me, nor unique to high school. Several years ago, I said to my counselor, "You know, I tell people that our sessions consist of you shaking me by the shoulders and yelling, HEY! Cheer the fuck up! She laughed and replied, "Yeah, and then I slap you one, right?" She was cool, and she was helpful. I needed help, and I got it.
So why am I going back for a high school reunion? Because there were indeed some good times during my sentence at North Syracuse Central High School. I know it now, and I even knew it then, my sense of malaise notwithstanding. I survived high school and college, failed a lot, and succeeded a bit, too. I got married, stayed married, and became a father--my happiest achievement! There were forks in the road, something lost, something gained, as well as the permanent losses a mortal world inflicts upon us all.
I kept writing, finally started to sell some of my writing, and wrote more. I got into this indie radio thing, elevating my stature by many, many inches. I've now written three published books, including my first fiction collection Guitars Vs. Rayguns!! Short Stories And Other White Lies, which is currently plummeting down the Least Sellers list.
Yet I'm proud of it. And I don't get to any of this without the experience of high school.
Perhaps attending a reunion for a class other than my own takes some pressure off. I don't think I'll feel any specific need to try (and fail) to impress anyone. I am, after all, just a pesky underclassman. We'll all share a toast. Maybe I'll wear my WIN button. Maybe...not.
Here's to ya, my fellow Northmen and Northchicks. GO, NORTHMEN! And even though my sixteen-year-old self only knew five of the acts on the playlist below, this is what rock 'n' roll radio sounded like on another Sunday night in Syracuse this week.
This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, streaming at SPARK stream, and on the Radio Garden app as WESTCOTT RADIO.
You can read all about this show's long and weird history here: Boppin' The Whole Friggin' Planet (The History Of THIS IS ROCK 'N' ROLL RADIO). You can follow Carl's daily blog at Boppin' (Like The Hip Folks Do).
TAX DEDUCTIBLE DONATIONS are always welcome.
Carl's new book Guitars Vs. Rayguns!! Short Stories And Other White Lies is available! Read about it here. Autographed copies of Carl's previous book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) are available here, and you can still get Carl's previous previous book Gabba Gabba Hey! A Conversation With The Ramones from publisher Rare Bird Books. If you like the books, please consider leaving a rating and/or review at the usual online resources.
No comments:
Post a Comment