The best days of our lives
Jim was a high school classmate. He was handsome, captain of the football team, and senior class president. His girlfriend, Janet, was the extremely cute head cheerleader. “Remember, Kenny”, Jim said to me one day after school, “these are the best days of our lives. You should really savor them!” Oh no, I thought, if these are the best days of my life, I may as well jump off a bridge.
I was Jim’s polar opposite: nerdy, self-conscious, socially awkward, and without a girlfriend. Plus, my mother had died two years previously. And though he did the best he could, my father had very little idea of how to how to raise teenaged boys. All in all, I was miserable for most of high school.
I joined our synagogue youth group. My first outing was to a camp on the Chesapeake Bay. After dinner we hung around the campfire. Barbara, an exuberant girl a few years older than me, was talking about a guy she really liked. “He’s fantastic,” she gushed, “just oozing with personality.” She energetically flapped her hands as she spoke, as if to convey the considerable magnitude of the oozing. Simultaneously her eyes lit up and darted around the campfire, connecting with various members of the group as she said, “you know what I mean?. I guess they also had oozing personalities, so they undoubtedly understood exactly what she meant. But her eyes never fell on oozeless me, and I didn’t.
In addition to the youth group, I decided to try out AZA, which was called a “Jewish fraternity,” though I don’t think it was a real fraternity. One of its attractions was the rumor that the AZA brothers from time to time would travel to Baltimore, thirty-five miles to the north, to visit the Gaiety Burlesque. “It’s easy to get in” I was told, “they never card you.” But despite that allure, I was far too timid to go along, even in the unlikely event that someone would have invited me.
I did go to Baltimore with an AZA brother once, but not to the Gaiety. Rather, it was for a dance. Since I had major issues with dancing, I was intimidated right from the start. We were parceled out to a local member. The guy I stayed with was a Jewish version of Jim Ross. On his dresser was a bottle of English Leather aftershave—what an incredible smell! He wore a wide full-grain leather belt with a big brass buckle and prominent yellowish stitching. And a peek into his closet revealed not one, but several beautiful sweaters with suede elbow patches. These were things that I craved, but I didn’t feel worthy to ask my father to buy them for me. Not that he would have had a clue as to how special they were.
I don’t remember the dance at all. But to my shame, what I do vividly remember is dropping the girls off at their homes afterwards. My date was the first to be delivered. She was sitting by the window, and I was scrunched in the middle of the back seat next to her. She opened the door and got out. I said ‘goodbye,’ and she walked to her house. The brother sitting next to me shoved his elbow in my ribs, but I thought he was just shifting his position. Finally the driver, who was the guy I was staying with, said, “Hey, Kenny! Why the hell didn’t you walk her to the door?” I said I didn’t know I was supposed to. I could feel multiple sets of eyes rolling, and almost hear them saying under their collective breaths, “what a loser!” It was incredibly humiliating. By the time my mother died I guess I was still too young for her to explain basic social conventions to me, and I’m sure it wouldn’t have occurred to my father to teach me something like that. In fact, he never even taught me to shave, or that I should take regular showers; I had to figure out those sorts of things for myself.
Needless to say, that was my last experience with AZA, or any other fraternity. I fumbled my way through the rest of high school. Fortunately, I was pretty successful both academically and in student government. The next fall I left for college, apparently with the best days of my life behind me.
In fact, I’ve been truly fortunate in my post-high school life—I’ve had a satisfying career, done lots of travelling, lived in many beautiful places, married a really wonderful woman, and have fantastic kids and grandkids. I now know that it’s polite to walk people to their door, how to shave, and when to take showers. I even feel comfortable buying nice belts and sweaters.
I lost contact with Jim after graduation, and occasionally wondered what became of him. A recent Google search showed that he married Janet, then became a cardiologist. They had kids (who must be absolutely beautiful) and live near Annapolis, Maryland. Hopefully, Jim was as wrong for him as he was for me that high school days were the best days of our lives.
How poignant! Thanks for sharing this moving reflection.
I feel so luck to have grown up with parents who had the capacity to teach me basic comportment (not that I listened!) and am glad to report that life improved tremendously for me after high school, and has continued to get better and better ever since!
I truly relate to your experiences, Ken. Growing up was messy for me, too.
Grammar school was a joy; but, four years of Catholic high school provided enough back story for a horror film. I often think about the truly nutty and awkward things I’ve done. And, now, I can laugh about them- sometimes.
It’s wonderful that you made it through the storms. And, knowing you for so long and recently meeting Annie has been such a joy.
I’ve noticed some themes in your blog: your struggle against entropy; the search for meaning, and your ability to embrace humor in order to deal with the world.
It’s very brave of you to write these essays, Ken. I always look forward to what’s coming next.
Thanks for sharing your most profound and human reflections!
Sincerely, Carl
Really enjoyed reading you post, and learning a little more about your past. Since we grew up together as cousins, and I only knew you sporadically when family occasions enabled us to meet, your school and social life was rather nonexistent to me, as I suppose mine was to you. When we met it was to be silly and laugh, share secrets, and escape the very things you write about. My mother was similar in many ways to your dad…
Although your mother did teach you to shower—and spent much time telling you how to ward off advances, should a boy walk you to the door!
You never cease to amaze me with your incredibly detailed memory! Right down to the leather elbow patches on the AZA brother’s sweaters! I’m so glad your best days weren’t in high school – that would definitely cast a shadow on my self-esteem as a daughter. LOL. My heart goes out to awkward, nerdy, Bridge Club Kenny. I would have been his friend, despite the infrequent showers. He sounded like a swell guy (and one I’m very blessed to have as a Papa).
A delightful remembrance of your social experiences in high school! We dare say from our personal experiences that you were in the majority! Thank goodness that high school wasn’t the pinnacle of your life! Going to a high school reunion is one of the best sociological proofs for what you have expressed! How often does one discover that the most popular and outgoing person has for various reasons taken on hermit- like tendencies while the least noticed kid has blossomed into an accomplished leader in a variety of endeavours! The home coming queen and king have become doughty and unaccomplished, the promising athlete has failed to reach the promises of youth! Of course there are exceptions but they seem to be a minority! Speaking from a long secondary teaching career I would venture to say that all teachers at this level should endeavour to be more aware in reaching the social – emotional needs of kids who were like yourself, myself and many others! Another brilliant piece of literature! Ver enjoyable indeed!
Thank you so much for this, Ken (and sorry for tardy reply!) Much of it resonated with me although, like you, I was lucky enough to be pretty good at the things school demanded. In contrast, I know talented people whose lives have been a real struggle after their crushing experiences at school. Another cliche is that small children are happy because “they have no worries or responsibilities.” Well, that’s not how it FEELS when you are a small child! I look forward to more thoughts.
I enjoyed reading this—thank you for sharing this piece of your early life—and oh, how it brings back so many of those painful high school memories. And you always seemed like the cool teenager who had it all under control!
So glad the best days of your life continue to get better!
Love this, Ken! Teared up a couple of times and then decided that most likely you’re still living your best life…😊
We were too far apart in high school, since I didn’t go to Blair. My experiences were awful, too; it would not have occurred to me that those were the best days of our lives! Like Emily’s my life has gotten better as I’ve gotten older. And our friendship is part of that.
It has taken me a long time to catch up on past posts but grateful to have found this one.
Anyone who knows you today, or meets you now, would have no clue that your early social days were so dismal. You have always been intellectually stimulating and a challenge to keep up with in wit, if that were even possible. You are eager to share things that you have learned, patient with teaching, resourceful in all areas, and you seem totally in charge when interacting with people. Who would have ever guessed you had such a difficult time in your early socializing years?
Thank you for sharing this deeply personal post. It is a blessing and honor to know you!