Friday Story Time... A peek at my past

(for Laura, thanks for the inspiration)

Yesterday I came across an old video that I’ve yet to return to one of my high school pals. I found myself popping it into the VCR, and instead of fast-forwarding to the short films we made, I sat and watched all of the riff-raff stuff that doesn’t make the “editor’s cut.” Between our films, sometimes the camera would be left on and we’d just goof off, not knowing what else to do. Other times we’d turn on the camera, hoping it would inspire in us some creativity for our next masterpiece, only to be left with some rather dull footage of us cruising around North Bend/Coos Bay, bored as ever.

Well, on this particular video that I’d seen so many times before, I couldn’t help but marvel at how carefree my childhood was. Granted, I was a teenager and not a child, but I didn’t have any responsibilities or tasks weighing on me. Here we were, the three of us friends, dancing in Jessica’s driveway and into the deserted suburban streets. It was an Indian summer afternoon, with the light crisp and golden, and the air as warm as it gets on the coast. The neighbors must have peered from behind their mini blinds at "those crazy punks who were at it again," dilly-dallying through an otherwise silent surburbia.

Ben Fold’s Five was blasting from the garage, for all the avenue to hear. Does anyone remember that album (“Brick,” “Kate,” “One Angry Dwarf”)? I remember I had just won that CD the night before at a dance. It was a tumultuous night, if I recall it correctly.

I was 15, and completely devastated that the apple of my eye was dancing with another girl during a slow song. I was just about to ask him! I ran to my sister (who was then a senior), demanded that she give me the car keys, and bolted to the parking lot with tears in my eyes. In the cold little car, I bawled… how tragic! My sister, being the protective older sibling that she was, stormed over to my crush and ordered him outside to retrieve my sorry little self. Well, he did. And I was mortified and extremely thrilled all at the same time, in a way that only a 15 year old girl could be. He asked me to dance.

The next day, my excitement still had not worn off. I trot before the camera with an extra glowing and hopeful smile. My step, I notice from my window 6 years later, has a little extra spring to it. Oh, the infatuation and enchantment of puppy love.

And watching this video, as we pirouette and lolly-gag our way through the streets, will always bring me back to this specific and lovely time in my life. I’m finally at the point where I won’t weep for yesterday. Life has to be lived in the present, and I’ve been through several chapters since… in fact, I am in a particularly lovely and exciting chapter of my life which is both beginning and ending at the same time. But, should hard times lie ahead, I at least have this treasury of captured film (and CDs to bring back vivid milestones in life) to look back on as visual proof that there is a time in life for joy. Am I romanticizing my past? Perhaps. But is there a better option? :)