Friday, July 5, 2013

Moving Pictures....

All the world's indeed a stage,
And we are merely players,
Performers and portrayers,
Each another's audience
Outside the gilded cage....

The Missus and I spent our Independence Day trying to wrap up the process of vacating our former home.  I had no idea how much stuff we had acquired and gathered over the course of the past thirteen years - until it had to be sorted through, boxed up and/or thrown out.  Once we are finished with this project I intend to embrace minimalism as my life's mantra.  I have learned my lesson.  Or at least I hope I have.

An unintended benefit of taking our home apart one item at a time is that we have come across a number of long forgotten items.  Yesterday we actually came across an item I did not realize I possessed.  For the past almost three decades I have operated under the assumption that the high school yearbook I have had in a box of my "treasures" was my senior yearbook.  It turns out that it was actually a copy of the W-H 1983 yearbook.  1983 was the year that Jill graduated.  As luck would have it I apparently never possessed a copy of my senior yearbook.  Fear not.  I suspect that I will survive this trauma.  I anticipate coming back strong.  Very strong.  

Prior to consigning the yearbook to history's scrap heap I thumbed through it.  While I suspect that the 21st Century edition of the W-H yearbook is a high-tech affair, Jill's senior yearbook was replete with simply gorgeous black and white photographs.  Especially so in the final section of the book, which is where people purchased advertising space, including those advertisements designed to salute a specific member of the graduating class. 

A couple of them were simply stunning.   One of Jill's classmates was Greg Boff.  Their senior year he led the Boys' Basketball Team to the State Championship.  About ten years or so after they graduated, Greg died in an automobile accident.  This fall - at Fall Fair - he is being posthumously enshrined into the W-H Athletic Hall of Fame.  A well-deserved honor.   I am looking forward very much to seeing his two sisters, Stacy and Dana, as they accept it on Greg's behalf.  I have known few people in my life who handle such moments with the grace and aplomb of Stacy and Dana.  It should be a very moving evening.  

 Among the other terrific shots I stumbled across was one that accompanied a salute to the Class of '83 that was purchased by two recent alumni:  one who was a member of the Class of '81 and the other an '82 graduate.  I had forgotten just how inseparable John Penvenne and Dave Stout were when they roamed the halls and soccer fields of W-H together until I saw the photograph.  And it made me smile.  Twin sons of different mothers indeed.  In the photo, they are both looking off into the distance.  At what I know not.  I wonder if all these years later John, himself, remembers.   Dave Stout, too, died far too young - in late March of this year.   In this particular photo, however, he is forever young.  Forever seventeen.

Buried towards the back of the yearbook was an unexpected gem.  Apparently Kara and I bought an advertisement saluting Jill and her classmates.  And the photograph we used was one from her heyday at St. Paul's School in Princeton, which we referred to (with no trace of affection whatsoever) as "St. Paul's Prison Camp".  I suspect that had Jill's future foes on the field hockey and lacrosse fields seen the look in 4th grade Jill's eyes from her school picture, they would have stayed the hell out of her way.  Not that it would have helped. 

Someone much wiser than I am once observed that one picture is worth one thousand words.  There goes your proof.  Three times in fact. 


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