Memory Days

I left for my vacation on Thursday, with an entirely uneventful plane flight from San Francisco to Boston. No delays, no terrorists, precious little turbulence. The worst of it was the two-hour check-in line at SFO. Yawn. Early morning flights (mine was at 7:50) suck.

Yep, I'm back east visiting my parents. I haven't been back since two Christmases past, though I saw my folks at my sister's wedding in December. A week of shopping, watching baseball and reading is basically what I have planned. Especially since this is the first time in quite a few years I've been back during warm weather. Quite warm, in fact, and rather humid, too.

As I get older, I seem to get more and more nostalgic when I go back to visit the old homestead. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but my Mom still lives in the house I grew up in. She's been there 30 years this year, I think. I've long since moved out and taken all my possessions with me, but my room is still basically my room, and the house is largely the same.

Friday I went up to my elementary school to visit the two teachers (out of six) I had there who are still there teaching. It turns out that my sixth grade teacher plans to retire after next year, though my second-and-third grade teacher is still kicking. The inside of the school seems largely the same, despite the change of personnel. When I stopped in to see my second grade teacher, one of his students pointed to me and said, "Mr. Hanelin, who's that?" He said, "He's an ex-student of mine." "No way," she said. "He must be at least thirty, and you said you were only twenty-five!" Ah, I think I spoiled the illusion.

It seems clear that few of my classmates go back to their grade schools to drop in on their old teachers. I find this somewhat peculiar, since I had many teachers who were significant influences on me, even if I didn't realize it at the time. (Sadly, one of my best-loved high school teachers died of a heart attack only a few years after I graduated; he was only 50. I miss him.) I think the teachers enjoy my visits because it's nice to see that their students have grown up and made something of themselves. I mean, how else can they really see how their efforts turned out? It would be rather nice, I think, if we invited some teachers to our high school reunions. I wonder if other schools do that?

I spent a good chunk of my first weekend reminiscing about my childhood in various ways. Standing in the schoolyard of my elementary school, I remembered how when I started school there, there was only a lone jungle-gym (long since removed) in the playground, and now there is a medley of play equipment, replacing even the stuff that was built there early in my tenure at the school. The "field" behind the school originally had only tennis courts, swing, and a push merry-go-round. The courts are still there, the swings have been replaced, but the merry-go-round vanished decades back. And the field now has a variety of other play equipment for older kids, though the grass seems in poor shape.

And the pavement in front of the school - a parking lot when I was there - is now covered in painted images (a U.S. map, courts for Twosquare and Foursquare - which I was pretty darned good at as a kid, if I do say so myself - and such) which are now old enough that they've all faded considerably. What will the place be like in twenty years?

Walking down one of the main residential avenues, the old "Indian Trail" paths down the aqueduct that my friends and I used to walk and play pretend on have fallen into such disuse that I could barely identify them. The old tree that my friend Doug and I used to climb on is still there, though, and still climbable. I wonder if anyone still uses it?

The large forested "island" between three roads is still there, and still covered in trails, but someone in the last 18 months has bug a big hole in the middle and covered it with a ramshackle roof, with stairs heading down into it. It didn't look safe to me, and I wonder where it came from. And whether the city knows about it.

And okay, I admit that I did walk past the house of the girl in high school I had a huge crush on (Michelle, her name is). We had been in science class together, but since the concept of dating was this opaque thing to me, and besides I was terribly shy around girls anyway, I never did anything about it. She sure was cute, though. She moved away after tenth grade, and I have absolutely no idea what ever happened to her. No doubt she's married with three kids by now. (Yes, I've done a search for her on the Web. Her full name is not uncommon, however, so I have no idea whether any of the matches I found are her. Yes, I'd be a great stalker if I ever wanted to set my mind to it. I'm quite good at finding things out about people, if I set my mind to it.)

I also walked back in the vicinity of where my high school friend Simone lived. She was one of my few female friends prior to college. In retrospect, it seems likely that she had a crush on me, and I was mostly just dunderheaded to know it. We lost touch after she graduated high school (she was a couple of years younger than me), though I heard from a mutual friend that she had some hard times after graduation. I have no idea what happened to her, either. I'd be delighted to hear from her sometime.

Anyway. If you've been reading my journal for a while and shaking your head about how I relate to women, now you know that I have a lengthy history of such cloddishness.

My memories from my hometown are largely good, not many bad. And those that are bad, I can actually laugh about them now. Getting sent out of class in sixth grade for telling bad puns at inopportune times. Like when the teacher was trying to teach us something. Sometimes I dearly wish I could go back and be, oh, 10 again, and live those years over, with perhaps a little guidance from my adult self. I'd do things differently, certainly, but I think I'd enjoy some of those times more, having an adult context to put them in.

Other times I think that my life has turned out pretty well, and I wouldn't want to give up where I am to go back and be what I once was, since things might not turn out as well the second time around.

I don't know many people around Boston anymore, so my trips there these days are primarily to see Mom and Dad. That's okay. I can spend some time just lounging around, which ain't so bad for a vacation.

Of course, if I think things have changed a lot in 15 years, I should wait a while. My Dad recently attended his 50-year (!!) high school reunion, and sent a travelogue and photos to a bunch of his friends and family. Now that's a span of time in which a town can really change!