Life Lessons - Ninth Grade

In geometry class as a freshman, I sat next to a junior named Doug Schreurs for roughly a semester.  Doug and I were never friends.  Our entire interaction consisted of short conversations that took place between the time we arrived at our seats and the time the bell rang to start class.  With the exception of two occasions, I can’t even tell you what we discussed.  

The first chat I recall involved Doug asking to borrow my notebook so he could copy my notes.  This was near the end of the first semester so the all-important cumulative final was forthcoming.  Doug had missed a few days recently and I don’t think his notes were all that detailed to begin with.  I always took copious notes and, as you might have guessed, was proud of my work.  Doug was a nice enough guy and he was perfectly willingly to talk to a lowly freshman, even a nerdy one like me.  So I lent him the notebook without thinking twice about the gesture. 

The second conversation that remains with me is when Doug returned the notebook to me.  Sounding entirely relieved and confident that my notes had put him on the right path to passing the exam, he thanked me and called me a “life saver”.  I’m not really sure why but his words made me feel good about myself.  Maybe the confirmation of my notebook’s utmost quality was just what my bloated ego needed to hear.  Maybe it was the good will I had accrued from truly helping a fellow student in need.  Looking back, I’ll never forget those exact words of gratitude.

Doug Schreurs was killed in a car accident less than a week later, prior to the semester final.  My good deed?  Doug’s hard work to catch up and prepare for the final?  All of it had been for naught.  Looking at that empty seat for the rest of the semester, I couldn’t fill the hollow space in my gut.  It didn’t make sense.  I’ve certainly had people much closer to me who have passed away, and my day-to-day life didn’t change going forward.  Still, it can’t be coincidence that this is one of the first memories that came to mind when considering a life lesson learned in ninth grade.

I’m not entirely sure what the takeaway is from this story, but here’s my feeble stab at it.  Everyone you come across in your life has a role to play, no matter how brief their stay is.  They are the vessel by which a message is being delivered.  Keep your eyes and mind open to absorb it. 

I’m reminded of Mitch Albom’s best-selling book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven” (a worthwhile read).  I’m not sure if there’s such a thing as heaven (I want there to be) and I don’t know if I’ll be lucky enough to be allowed in.  But there’s something comforting in the book’s concept.  We get a chance to re-learn the most important lessons in life from people who have impacted ours.  These people could be anybody, even somebody you’ve long since forgotten.  Maybe Doug is one of my five people, waiting there for me to help put all the pieces together.  In the meantime, I’ll try to live this life – the present – for all that it’s worth. 

"All endings are beginnings.  We just don't know it at the time."

Life Lessons - Eighth Grade

Note: I'm aware I skipped seventh grade.  I hope to go back to it when I have something to write about.

Back in the day, when my mind was a finely tuned machine, I was a pretty good speller.  You know, before beer.  I was a key player on the Peotone Jr. High spelling team.  In fact, I still have the t-shirt and sleep in it occasionally.  “Embrace your inner nerd”, it beckons to me.  In 7^th grade, I competed in a regional spelling contest and won.  Only the regional winner got to advance, but the top 3 in each sectional were permitted to compete at the state level.  I traveled to Peru (IL) for the sectional event and promptly placed 4^th. 

I asked my parents if we could stay to see the event through to its conclusion.  The sectional championship came down to two Asian twins.  These girls were good.  Real good.  Like the kind of wunderkinds you would see competing in the Scripps National Spelling Bee.  OK, I’m probably exaggerating; I’m sure they were no Rebecca Sealfon after all.  After what seemed like an eternity with neither girl showing signs of faltering, we all grew restless and ended up leaving before a winner was crowned.

I was disappointed by my finish, especially when I saw the boy who placed 3^rd get knocked out a couple short rounds after me.   I still had a sense of accomplishment though and there was no shame in losing to either of those twins in my mind.  Plus I was buoyed by the knowledge that I would be back next year to try it again.

 

Fast forward a year to the 8^th grade regional contest.  They give you a thick packet to study for these contests, which consists of potential words you can be given to spell.  I was reviewing words with my mom the morning of the event.  One of the words she gave me was “legislative”.  Ha!  What an easy word!  You see, we were studying the three branches of government in social studies at the time so I had seen it a bunch of times recently.  There was no chance I’d miss THAT word.  I went into the tournament brimming with confidence.  In my mind, I was as close to a sure bet to advance as it got.  I breezed through the first rounds with ease.  Little did I know that complacency and a lack a focus was weaving a web of doom in my brain. 

As fate would have it, I was given the word “legislative” to spell.  Remembering my flippant remark from earlier in the day, I allowed myself a chuckle and plowed through the word as I always did when I knew the answer.  “Legislative.  L-E-G-E” … Wait a minute.  Something feels wrong … “-I-S-L” … Yes, you did screw up.  Start over. … “-A-T-I” … For the love of god, mouth, stop speaking!  There’s still time to fix this!  ... “-V-E.  Legislative.” … You fool. You’ve ruined us.  As the moderator rejected my answer, I stood in disbelief.  I knew my spelling of the word was erroneous; I couldn’t comprehend what had just happened though.  The transportation between brain and mouth had broken down at the most inopportune time.  There was no other explanation.  It happens to the best of us, right? 

As the event progressed to its conclusion, I silently spelled the words along with the other contestants.  If memory serves, there was only one word which came up that I was unsure of.  Yeah, it’s conceivable I still might not have won even if things had played out differently.  However, you’ll never be able to convince me that I wasn’t the best option to represent our region going forward.  I was inconsolable for the next couple days.  I even let the waterworks flow when I got home.  Crying over a spelling bee?  Dude, you’ve GOT to be kidding me.  Hey, competitive spelling is a cruel mistress.  She can really get to you.  Just ask this kid. 

 

As the classic film Little Giants (one of my all-time favorites) taught us, the best doesn’t always win.  Even if I would have won that event 99 times out of 100, that still leaves one time.  It’s a fine line between confidence and hubris, and I was unable to straddle it.  In some respects, I might be able to trace the crippled confidence I now limp around with back to that critical day.  Nonetheless, it was an important learning experience.  No matter what the stage, you should always give your opponents the respect they deserve and never take anything for granted. 

Boy, I sure hope there aren’t any spelling errors in this entry.  Grammar on the other hand?  I’ll leave that to the English nerds to correct.

Life Lessons - Sixth Grade

If you’re good at something, it’s human nature to toot your own horn. Growing up, I was never the athlete I so desperately wanted to be.  However, I was blessed with a mind that could hold its own in the academic forums.  I think it would be unfair to label me a show-off, but it’s true that I sought to prove my abilities whenever I could.  The best way to do this was raise my hand and answer as many questions correctly as I could.  During class one day, I was on a particular roll.  After the umpteenth time I had delivered an answer, Jason Krohn casually turned around and asked me, “We both know you know this stuff.  Why don’t you just sit back and let the dumb kids try to answer?” Krohn was one of the few kids in our grade that I considered an intellectual superior, so his suggestion wasn’t taken lightly.  I can only speculate what his motive was.  Perhaps he felt some mutual respect for another “gifted program” kid and was trying to save me from some unnecessary effort.  Perhaps he got some pleasure from hearing what ridiculous incorrect response would be offered up by one of the aforementioned “dumb” kids and I was depriving him of that opportunity.  Or perhaps Krohn was just downright annoyed by my actions as much as others probably were.  Whatever the reason, I forced myself to recognize that Krohn was an individual perfectly capable of replicating my actions and yet he chose not to.  I ultimately decided to heed his advice, sit back, and enjoy the ride.  I still submitted the occasional correct response when I grew weary of a roadblock our class had hit or when I was feeling an extra strong case of withdrawal.  I just didn’t feel the need to advertise my academic prowess as much anymore, and that’s the takeaway here.  I try to keep these words of advice at the forefront of my thoughts:  Act like you’ve been there before.  If you act like you’ve been there before, then people will assume you have.  Whenever I do something that may seemingly give cause to celebrate, I try not to make a big deal out of it.  I’m not talking about just academics anymore.  For instance, I don’t get very animated on the bowling lanes after a strike.  A little fist shake if it’s a big shot in a big spot will do just fine.  Don’t get me wrong, I love acts like a crazy choreographed touchdown dance as much as the next the guy.  However, give me the quiet confidence that exudes from expecting something positive and then letting your play do all the talking.  I’ll cite Walter Payton and Barry Sanders as two examples.  They are two of the greatest running backs of all-time and both found the end zone on countless occasions.  Their celebration?  A simple flip of the ball to the referee.  How can you not respect that?  Once I stopped answering so many questions, it would have been very easy for my fellow classmates to assume I had lost a step, but I knew better.  I’d just let my grades do the talking, even if forming words would be difficult given the lack of consonants. As I’m coming to this entry’s conclusion, I’m realizing that there’s been an awful lot of bragging in a blog whose main objective is to denounce that sort of behavior.  Well, you’re certainly not going to rewrite this thing now.  Just take yourself down a few pegs so your message isn’t compromised.  With all due acknowledgement to Justin Halpern, it is I who sucks at girls.  Yep, my ineptitude is legendary.  Ah, the old standby. That’ll do.

Speak, Friend, and Enter

I’ve been giving this topic a lot of thought lately.  I remembered that I tackled this issue 5 years ago, so I figured I’d revisit what I wrote.  Some of it still applied so I’ve merged that prior piece with some new material.

They say you only keep one or two friends from high school.  I always dismissed that notion as false.  It was something I never gave much thought to because I wasn’t going away anywhere.  I didn’t see the problem; I’d still be around to hang out.  I forgot to factor one small variable into my logic: other people were, in fact, going places. 

So that sweeping truth of life has claimed yet another victim. I never had many friends to begin with, so this admission may not come as any real shocker.  It wasn’t that I was unfriendly or avoided social contact.  I don’t use the term “friend” casually, so I only had a select group that fit the definition.  The rest of the people from high school were mostly “school friends” as I call them. People you gladly associated with but only because greater external factors brought you together. 

Regrettably, as I look back, I would have gladly spawned a true friendship with some of these people outside of school, but it never materialized.  [Queue broken record.]  I’ve never been good putting events in motion.  It has been, and may always be, my outlook to let others initiate the process.  This applies to many areas of my life as friends and family can attest to, but we’re talking about friendships here so I won’t get off tangent.

I wonder why it’s so difficult to maintain these friendships once our forced education is over. Sure everyone goes their separate ways, but is it that hard to stay in contact via the phone or internet? And certainly we can make trips to visit each other once in awhile. Often these pledges are made but that’s because neither party really wants to admit it’s the end of the road.  Visits may start out as once in awhile but the gaps between points of contact grow longer and longer. And the longer it’s been, the less guilty we feel about not catching up. Trust me; I’m as guilty as anyone.

Maybe we allow these people we knew during our formative years to slip away because our tastes and expectations change as we mature. If you were selling that, I’ll buy it I suppose but not because I believe it applies to me. I don’t consider myself all that changed from 11 years ago.  In many ways, I’m exactly the same guy.  That’s either a strong testament to my staying power or a damning conviction on my inability to grow up. My case is an outlier so let’s assume you’re a normal person and have changed. Perhaps it’s that new “you” that you don’t want to jeopardize by associating with people you knew from another life.

As for me, I still love ‘High School’ Dave.  I’ve fought to keep him alive as long as possible.  In fact, I’ve even kicked around the idea of a doing side project dealing with The Simpsons.  It’s a pretty good indicator of where my priorities still lie.  My high school posse all attended Springfield Elementary, and yet I can’t imagine any of them sitting at home on a weekend these days doing what it takes to see the project through.

I’m still always reminded of the story my friend Tom (yes, he’s a legitimate one) tells of my “school friend” Clayton.  After graduation, Clayton’s father encouraged him to move on to the next chapter of his life, to the point of suggesting that he “ditch those kiddy friends and start getting some real friends”.  Ah yes, the adult Clayton was going to be a sophisticated individual; Tim Thompson would see to that.  At Clayton’s wedding, which I did not attend (see: “school friend” definition), his father promptly greeted the aforementioned kiddy friends with a hearty, “Wow, I’m surprised you’re not in jail yet.”, or something equally demeaning.

I’ve talked to several “popular” people from high school who seemingly sympathized with my plight.  A consistent response they offered was, “I’ve talked to maybe 3 people from our class in the past year." Back when I was a pettier individual, I’d take some solace from the fact that I wasn’t alone.  Misery loves company.  Now I realize that these people weren’t all that broken up over it.  They had realized long ago what the future held and made their peace with it.

I guess the reason this was always a larger issue for me is that I haven’t replaced those “school friends” with enough new people.  Usually you build new friendships through college but I was always a commuter with no reason to stay and interact with others.  Swing and a miss.  The best I can hope for is a solid stable of “work friends”, which is the logical progression from “school friends”.  I’ve acquired some new people in my life through work.  I appreciate them for what they do for me and the role they fill but they cannot completely fill the gap.  I certainly don’t expect them to; they have their own lives outside of work that need to be lived.  If we stopped working together, would we still talk?  If the past is any indication, I know better.

Although I failed to buck the post-high school trend, I did always have my 2 best friends, Tom and Matt.  Since there can only be one “best” by definition (I believe in using terms as they are intended), I will say Tom has been my best friend since high school.  It was Matt growing up.  Both are equally as important.  In the absence of quantity, I had tremendous quality.  As we grow older, I think that’s the case for most people.  There’s a precious few we hold on to that really enrich our lives; everyone else is just icing on the cake.

Matt is now married and lives in Texas.  We still play in fantasy sports leagues together and might text each other a couple times a year. Tom and I did manage to fly down there in 2011, which was a nice treat.  Tom moved to Bloomington several years ago.  He became a successful salesman and met the girl he’s probably going to end up marrying.  At least Bloomington is a much closer drive.  It’s one we both gladly make a couple times a year and there’s still the occasional phone call. Understandably though, we just can’t hang out like we used to.  

I don’t want to give up on the idea of a best friend, so Tom would still have that title if you asked me.  We’ll always be “brothers” no matter how much distance is between us.  He’s been a damn good best friend, better than I ever deserved.  Still, I have to look in the mirror and admit to myself that I don’t have a go-to guy (or girl, I’m equal opportunity) in my life anymore.  Someone I feel comfortable enough to call up and hang out with whenever I feel like it. 

If a best friend is measured by the person you hang out with the most, it would probably be Paul.  The funny thing with Paul is that he is arguably my brother’s best friend.  So it’s come to this.  I have to ride my younger brother’s coattails and roll on in life as a 3^rd wheel.  The truth is that I could probably count on one hand the people I would consider good friends.  Not best friend material, just good friends.  I accept much of the blame for this.  It’s a 2-way street and I’ve never made anyone else as important as myself.

I mentioned earlier that our “school friends” are undoubtedly replaced by “work friends”, keeping that piece of the friendship pie still accounted for.  The other evolution in friendship for most people is with their best friend.  Most people get married to the love of their life.  If I’m to understand the sacred concept of marriage correctly, many also refer to their spouse as their best friend.  It makes sense.  They are the person outside of work that you see the most often.  They are the person you want to spend time with more than anyone. 

You don’t completely discard your former bros or “besties” when you get married, but it certainly changes the dynamic of the relationship. Most people my age are married.  Maybe they even have children of their own.  It’s the natural progression of life. I do recognize and even accept this change.  There’s nothing wrong with that; family should always come first.  If you’re not married, you might still have a significant other in your life.  They invariably consume much of your time.  Remember when we were younger and griped when a good friend became invisible if a new girlfriend/boyfriend came into their life?  Now we just ask them what took them so long to get to that place.

I’ve decided marriage isn’t in my future and I’m not reconsidering that decision.  I didn’t say marriage can’t happen.  I’m saying I won’t allow it to happen. Still, I’m left with a gap in my life.  In the absence of marriage, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a new best friend when you’re almost 30?  Maybe none of this matters though.  Maybe Tom and I can still call ourselves best friends.  What defines a best friend?  Do both parties have to agree on the designation for it to count?  I like to close my blogs with a pearl of wisdom or confirm some sort of lesson learned.  I don’t have an answer this time.  Where do I go from here?

Crushes Epilogue

This was supposed to be my final piece in this mini-series.  After careful consideration, I have decided to withhold that entry from public consumption.  It’s still pretty recent and I’m going to let the dust settle a little more.  I’ve moved on but when you’re dealing with co-workers, discretion truly is the better part of valor.  That being said, I put a lot of effort into completing the passage and I still feel like sharing it.  What I am going to do is make the blog available in its entirety to select people.  If you would be interested in reading it, please reach out to me via email (dddchunk@hotmail.com) or through a private message on Facebook.  I will judiciously decide if you are one of the, er, lucky ones.  Please don’t feel offended if I deny your request as there may be a reason for it.  Additionally, I would ask that you respect my wishes by not sharing it with anyone.  If you feel like someone else you know would enjoy it, I encourage you to send them in my direction for the opportunity to read it.

 

What I can do is share with you excerpts from the full blog that are not directly related to the crush.  Admittedly, this will be a hodge-podge of blather but it’s the best I can do at this time.  I promise it flows together much better in the context of the crush.  Let’s just number the points and call them some general opinions and feelings.

 

I. Being Passive

See, the thing you need to know about me is that I’ll always leave you wanting more. I can’t deliver on the expectations you conjure up. You’re not into me; you’re into the idea of what I could be. From an outsider’s point of view, I should have all the tools to make it happen. I don’t know what to tell you. The individual pieces, all perfectly functional on their own, just don’t fit together nicely. It never fails - you’ll grow tired of playing the waiting game and move on. I don’t blame you. Please, please don’t mistake passive for indifferent. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs to the entire female population if they would listen. I know someone eventually has to make the move, but I didn’t want it to be me. I always thought the girl for me would be the one who fought through my maze of subtleties and criteria and emerged with a proclamation of feelings that froze me right in my place. The number of capable and, more importantly, willing people who could complete such an arduous undertaking has to be less than the number of people named David Younker in the United States. (I was curious once. There are 28 according to the census website whose data I am choosing to trust.) Call it my own way of pre-screening individuals to ensure a maximum chance of relationship success.

 

II. Co-Worker Dating

I was pretty sure this crush wasn’t into me but I wasn’t entirely certain.  So why didn’t I take more appropriate actions to get the definitive answer I so desperately sought? The primary driving force behind my hesitation had to be that she was a co-worker. So what, you say? Well, I’ve got a lot of crazy rules and criteria when it comes to dating. Sometimes I think I’ll make up any excuse not to go after someone. Just add another brick to the fortress I’ve walled myself inside. Actually, I think my stance on this one is particularly defensible. If you have interest in a co-worker, I would urge you to proceed with extreme caution. I’m not saying it can’t work because I’ve seen successful inter-office relationships. I just think you’re playing with fire and I won’t say I told you so when you get burned. There’s the obvious awkwardness that ensues if your initial courting attempt is met with resistance, but there’s also the risk of a post-breakup meltdown. Do you like your job? If that other person is a bit unhinged or just plain vindictive, I sincerely hope you’re in good with your HR department. All things considered, I believe it is good policy not to mix business and pleasure. Even if you’re heads over heels in love, everyone needs a break from their significant other for part of the day to avoid getting burned out. As strange as it sounds, I would enjoy the freedom work provides. I’d like to come home and escape from the problems of my work day by hearing a completely different set of problems. We’d console each other with a fresh outsider perspective. Am I alone on this?

 

III. Flirting With “Taken” People

One of my most redeeming qualities is that I respect boundaries. I am the LAST guy you ever have to worry about stealing your girl. As the great Roy Munson put it, “You don’t mow another guy’s lawn.” It’s a simple credo that I adhere to. Guys, if your girl is flirting with me, rest assured that I did not initiate it. Rather than getting in my face, I suggest you take a moment to rethink where things are between the two of you. I mean, if she’s showing an interest in me…well, you’ve read enough of my blogs to know where I’m going with that.

 

 

IV. Event Invite Responses

Accepting as “tentative” really gives you the best of both a “Yes” and “No”. If something comes up or you just change your mind, no one really expected you to be there in the first place. Jack Johnson had it right – maybe does pretty much always mean no. However, when you do ultimately show up, it’s an unexpected surprise. It’s almost as if you’re greeted more warmly than someone who accepted outright. The only drawback is the potential loss of credibility I’ve created for myself due to overuse of the response.

 

V. Finding “The One”

I think that true love and ultimately marriage is not so much a product of who as it is when. It’s when you’re ready to wholly commit to true love and take that next step. Who you’re with at the time, if they’re even remotely right for you, grows into “the one”. There’s no timetable but everyone reaches that point in their lives if their path is leading them in that direction. Not everyone is on that path though. You shouldn’t feel ashamed if your head and heart tells you what you’re doing is right. Follow them.

 

VI. Going Forward

I know I tend to ramble on, so if you’re still reading, that’s quite an accomplishment (and thank you). It’s a lot like that crappy movie you shelled out 8 bucks for. You’ve made it this far and invested your time and money. You owe it to yourself to see firsthand what comically bad ending is in store. Trust me, your opinion will mean more when you recount the experience years later with friends. Or, if you're lucky, you can just point your friends to a clip from a TV show that's done the work for you.

 

 

So now you’re finally here and wondering what cockamamie theory or story I have for you. This better be good, Younker. The truth is that I had a different ending in my original draft. After sleeping on it for a couple nights, I decided to scrap most of it. I couldn't throw my full support behind the words anymore. Maybe I'm still drinking the New Year's Kool-Aid but it sounded too much like the old me I vowed to break away from. In this far less impressive ending, I can at least inform you that I won’t be writing about my lady ineptitude anymore. [Audience exhales a huge sigh of relief and applauds.] I think there’s enough documentation on that topic. I’ll be able to write about things you may actually care about. Now, I won’t hesitate to discuss general relationship dilemmas if asked (re: he's running out of ideas so shoot questions his way). I have plenty of untested theories if you’re willing to entertain a little out of the box thinking. I’m always here for you.

 

 

Epilogue

This concludes the mini-series on crushes. I hope you’ve enjoyed the view into my past through my eyes. It wasn’t easy to do this but it’s been a very cathartic process. I felt many different emotions and a better author could have conveyed them all.

 

There have been other crushes throughout my life but these I have written about are the most significant. Linebacker wasn’t really that significant actually.(I had intended to write about all of my crushes at that point, and her story was a short one that I was using as filler.)I guess you could call the other 4 – Linear Regression, Sandiego, Kung Pow, and Phoenix –my Mount Rushmore of crushes. They represent different stages of my progression through life (grade school, high school, college, and employment, respectively). I didn’t plan for it to work out that way, but I’m pleased with the balance because the memory of each crush doesn’t threaten to cannibalize any of the others.

 

The irony in all of this is that the few girls I’ve gone on dates with during and since high school have not been ones I’ve had a crush on nor did they develop into a crush once we went on a date. I guess that’s appropriate. To me, the concept of a crush is that idealistic person just beyond your grasp. The final destination with them may not ultimately produce a pot of gold, but it’s the path you travel that leads to the best stories and memories. You must take the good with the bad. They say you learn more from your failures than your successes anyhow. Mission accomplished.

Don't Follow The Leader

I haven’t summoned the courage yet to write the last installment of my crush mini-series.  Maybe I want a break from alienating the girls of my past.  It’s coming, but in the meantime…

Sometimes I don’t know what scares me more about myself: that I think I’m going to be alone the rest of my life or that I’m OK with it.  I keep digging into my soul in search of something more and there’s just…nothing.  I have no desire to wake whatever latent feelings of love may be sleeping.  I’m not lamenting my place in this world.  We all have a different calling in life and I truly believe that a single life is mine.  Deep down in my heart, it just feels right.  That peace of mind is very settling to me.  I can’t expect you to understand or even agree with it, so I won’t waste many more words on the matter.  Trust me, my mother and sister have taken your side and have probably made your arguments.  Sure, I have my fears that I’ll look back in fifty years and consider it a life wasted.  I suppose we all have those reservations though, and sometimes it takes another person to reaffirm the quality of life we did and do in fact have.  A life alone doesn’t have to mean a life wasted.  There’s a lot of positive ways I can impact this world and some of them I could not do with a family.  I guess I’ll cross that bridge if I’m lucky enough to reach it. 

Surprisingly, the main purpose of this blog is not to replay the broken record you’ve come accustomed to hearing with me.  I’d like to take a moment and think of someone else.  My brother Dan is a genuinely good man.  Fortunately for him, he’s got a lot more of my dad in him than I do.  I’m a decent guy but I’m unable to consistently carry the optimistic outlook they have on life or the faith they have in other people.  I’m ashamed to admit I’m sometimes even jealous of these qualities they possess.

I’m not a very religious man (more on that later perhaps) but I do say the occasional prayer in a moment of silence.  I’d like to float another one up to whoever will receive it.  I know Dan would like to find a nice, caring woman that will complete him.  He may not openly admit it, but I know those feelings DO exist inside him.  Unfortunately for him, he was saddled with an older brother who set a poor example on how to find and cultivate a loving relationship.  I won’t take all the blame because we are all ultimately responsible for our own actions, but the role of a good older brother is to pave the way.  Even though that older brother can never be perfect, he provides some sort of blueprint to follow.  At the very least, one may learn what not to do.  I’ve given Dan nothing to work with and it’s one of my deepest regrets in life this far.  He deserves better than that.  What he deserves is someone who is going to make him happy.  Give my brother the inspiration to find this person and the wisdom to recognize her when she comes into his life.

Maybe the best I can do for him in my limited capacities is say this prayer and set the chain of events in motion.  Maybe the powers that be will work through someone who reads this.  I’d like to request that he NOT be solicited with a flurry of requests to “meet someone”.  Like me, I’m sure Dan would not respond favorably to any matchmaking attempts.  It’s something he will want to do on his own but maybe a little divine intervention couldn’t hurt.

Even as I write this, the cynical side of my brain is suggesting that I’m only doing this to take the pressure and focus off of me.  Someone needs to get going on extending the family bloodline and it sure as heck isn’t going to be me.  Most of my parent’s friends are grandparents by now.  Surely they want to join the club.  Although they’d never admit it, they must be wondering what they’ve done to be deprived of those joys.  I’m not asking for a solution tomorrow but none of us are getting any younger.  So, if you’re listening, maybe you can throw a bone my brother’s way.  Thanks.

Crushes, Part 4

Time frame = 10^th-12^th grade

Code name = Sandiego

Sandiego is a crush that I knew I’d have fun writing about because the memories of her are almost exclusively positive.  I listed the timeframe as spanning 3 years because the crush existed throughout most of high school.  There were other girls I might have been more focused on at specific points during high school so I could avoid putting all my eggs in one basket.  Still, Sandiego was always lurking in the background of my thoughts.   I think I set my sights on Sandiego at first because she was new to the school district when she arrived sophomore year.  It was always my contention that I was fighting an uphill battle with most girls in our high school because we had progressed through the school system together.  They knew my story and had formed an opinion about me, fair or not, that was unlikely to change.  With Sandiego, I had a chance to show off the “new” me to someone who held no prior prejudices.   It was only when I got to know her that my crush started gaining some momentum.

Obviously there was some physical attraction I felt towards Sandiego but that was never the key selling point for me.  She was smart and, I can’t stress this enough, she willingly talked to me.  Based on other crushes I’ve had, sometimes I wonder if that’s all it takes for a spark to ignite.  I can just see the women who are reading this making a mental note to give me the silent treatment going forward to ensure I don’t get the wrong idea. Yep, these blogs are doing me a lot of good.  I don’t want to imply that I was a complete outcast bereft of friends and incapable of holding a conversation with girls.  I had my clique like everyone else and I could almost hide the nervous apprehension that consumed me when talking with the opposite sex.  Sandiego talking to me was somewhat of a big deal though.  While I would stop short of calling Sandiego an A-lister in terms of social status at Peotone, there was some overlap in the circles she ran with.  Not many above me in the social ladder would give me the time of day unless they needed something.  Sandiego did and so did Ashley Blake, which is why I hold them in the highest regard among females from my graduating class.  There was nothing phony about either of them.  There are probably others that I could give a shout-out to if I gave it more thought, but those are the first two that came to mind. 

The first memory I have of Sandiego would seem to portray her as just another one of those stuck-up popular girls who considered me as nothing more than an afterthought.  Peotone has an annual fall festival and it usually occurs within a few weeks of the start of the school year.  Each fall sports team (I played soccer) was mandated to volunteer a set amount of hours towards cleaning up at the event.  So I had an hour shift which was spent emptying full trash cans and picking up litter.  During my shift, I encountered Sandiego and some other girls hanging out at the festival.  Eager to make conversation, I strutted over.  If memory serves, Sandiego played volleyball that fall.  So she too would have had to help clean at some point and understood the responsibilities I had.  She proceeded to throw some garbage at my feet and mockingly told me to pick it up.  This elicited a chorus of laughter from the group.  I tried to play along and avoid the hanging cloud of embarrassment before slinking away.  Since Sandiego was new to the school, it may have been a calculated move to gain favor among her posse.  It was later suggested, by her, that it may have been a lame attempt to flirt back.  I had to chuckle because that really resonated with me as something I would have tried if the roles were reversed.  OK, so it wasn’t a great start with this crush, but it was nothing I couldn’t recover from.

While the garbage incident may be the first memory, it isn’t the defining one.  To me, it has always been nothing more than a humorous anecdote I can pull out of the closet when recalling my formative years at Peotone High.  Hey, remember that time…  Not surprisingly, Sandiego didn’t remember this insignificant event when I casually reminded her of it a few years after it occurred.  As it haps, I should have just kept my mouth shut on this one.  Earlier this year, out of the blue, she expressed deep regret over being mean to me (even though she wasn’t) in general back in high school.  She referenced a conversation she had with her sisters about things they would change from their past.  Apparently, the first thought that came to mind was me and this silly little incident.  There was even sleep lost over it. Say what now?

Needless to say, I was shocked, humbled really, that I would hold such a considerable place in her memory.  The FIRST thought?  But how could this be?  I’m Dave Younker and I don’t have a lasting impact on non-familial females, be it for positive or negative reasons.  I’ve lived my whole life under that presumption.  If admissions suddenly came to light that would suggest otherwise, it would undoubtedly rock the very foundations on which I have built my fortress of solitude.  But I had to take Sandiego at her word on this one, didn’t I?  There was really no reason for her to divulge her shame and assign it the level of importance that was communicated to me.  If it was the truth, maybe she felt I had a right to know.  Regardless of her reasons for sharing, inevitable guilt engulfed me.  It was clear Sandiego needed a reminder about her good standing with me and I did my best to assuage any doubts she may have had.  I assured her that she was (and still is from what Facebook tells me) a wonderful human being who is both a loving wife and mother.  It’s ridiculous that she would even question that.  My sentiments were not lip service; I meant it.

Now I will say that Sandiego’s confession was in response to one of my standard self-indulgent Facebook questions.  Therefore, maybe it wasn’t guilt-driven at all but a step towards self-preservation.  I was having a public internal debate about whether or not I’d like to be given access to a list of everyone that may have had a crush on me at some point. (I know that list could be blank and make for a very depressing read.  It was a point in the ‘No’ column of that debate.)  Hmmm, now that I’ve stopped to contemplate it, I’m not giving these girls I’m writing about any choice, at least when it comes to me.  I have penciled my name in on each of their respective lists.  Um...sorry?  Sandiego pointed out, perhaps rightly so, that you could go bat-shit crazy (my words, she’s above such language) playing the “what if” game should you be privy to such a list.  Where I’m going with this is wondering if she tried to connect this question to some lingering unhappiness from my past and that unhappiness to some grudges and those grudges to her.  Rest assured Sandiego could not have been further from the truth.  I’d also like to calm anyone else reading this that feels they may have wronged me.  I’m not maintaining a list of enemies, but I will use this opportunity to work some ELO into a blog.

Sandiego was on the high school track team.  The great thing about high school track is you often don’t have to be very good to make the team.  There’s usually a spot for any warm body that enjoys running and/or jumping.  In fact, in my case, there was even a spot for someone who didn’t care all that much for either.  Peotone, with its gravel track and upstart program, was practically begging for members.  In addition to Sandiego, I had a couple friends on the team.  No doubt about it, I was very much there for the socializing.  It was quite the annoyance when I’d have to interrupt whatever stimulating conversation I was having so I could get shellacked in some quarter-mile or half-mile relay.  I can only remember going to 3 meets and some isolated practices.   Even the chance to talk with friends or flirt with a girl could only carry so much weight when faced with the dreaded running that had to accompany it.  Honestly though, I don’t remember flirting very much with Sandiego during track-related activities.  Sandiego was much more serious about the whole track thing than I was (obviously), and she was good at it even.   It would be fair to say I was too scared to make a move had too much respect for her dedication to running and didn’t want to be a hindrance.  Anyway, my parents have these blown-up pictures of a couple sports teams I was on during my junior year, and they hang in the basement.  Whenever I see the track one, I have to pause for a second and wonder what in the hell I was doing there.  A quick scan of the faces in the photo and I remember why.

Sandiego and I had countless chats via AOL Instant Messenger.  Yes, ChunkMan3 had a pretty good run.  Sometimes I wish I could go back to those days and rekindle those conversations.  Not just the ones with Sandiego but all the screen names I have so indelibly ingrained in my brain.  I don’t have any specific conversations with Sandiego that come to mind, but the overall collection makes the time period one I can recall with fondness.  A faceless chat wasn’t the extent of our relationship outside of school; we did hang out as friends a few times.  One of the activities we engaged in was Scrabble.  Naturally, I’m drawn to any game of intellect as it provides a chance to show off my wares.  It’s one of the few attributes in my bag of tricks that could* potentially impress a girl.  Unfortunately, my battered ego must admit that Sandiego beat me more times than I beat her.  Come to think of it, I’ve played Scrabble against a few girls, and I’d venture to say I have a lifetime losing record.   

*I guess there’s really no ‘could’ about it.  So much for that feather in my cap.  Can my relationship ineptitude really be boiled down to a lack of vowels and some misused X’s?  I better stick to something I can handle then.  Maybe I can interest one of you ladies in a game of Risk perchance?  Eh, who am I kidding?  I’d just try something cleverly stupid like attacking Asia with the intent of actually maintaining possession of it for more than one turn.  The moral of this piece of the story though is that I like girls who are willing to play board games or card games, and Sandiego was kind enough to oblige me on a few occasions.

In hindsight, there may have been one opportunity to make a move if I wanted to.  My parents have a hot tub at the house which would seemingly be a great asset at one’s disposal.  I wish I could say I’ve made better use of it over the years, but the promise of pulsating jets of warm water hasn’t been able to substitute for the words I can never seem to say.  One time Sandiego decided to take me up on the offer when she was over hanging out.  I can honestly tell you that I had no ulterior motive when I made the request.  We were just friends and I didn’t have any expectations.  I just saw it as two friends sitting around talking and making convenient use of a hot tub.  My memory is unable to recall the buildup but the conversation somehow progressed into back rubs.  Knowing me, I’m sure it was Sandiego’s idea.  Nothing more happened that night and that was the extent of any physical contact I had with her.  I don’t know if that was a missed signal and I don’t know if whatever chance I had died that night.  If it did, I don’t need to know for any closure and I won’t lament over it.  All of these crushes I’m writing about are squarely in the rear view mirror.  Whenever a crush runs its course, I summon the ghost of William Tecumseh Sherman to scorch that landscape of my heart and salt the earth behind him.

So why didn’t I ever try for anything more?  Isn’t that always the million dollar question?  Sandiego was my most important crush in high school, but she was also someone I considered a friend.  Those crushes are always the easiest to maintain but the hardest to advance to a new level.  Another contributing factor may have been the feelings of Otm Shank.  It was no secret amongst our band of brothers that he had a thing for Sandiego.  Actually, the poor fellow couldn’t decide if he liked Sandiego or her sister more.  Probably whichever one was paying attention to him more at the moment.  There is no doubt Otm Shank was more aggressive in his pursuit of Sandiego than I was.  Basically, we took exact opposite approaches.  I am passive with girls and treat potential interactions like a chess game, positioning the pieces to try and force the female to come to their own conclusion about me - the one I so desperately want them to but would never suggest.  The Otm Shank I remember would employ over-the-top antics and misguided gestures of interest.  I never felt like I was directly competing with Otm Shank for Sandiego though, partially because I doubt he knew my feelings.  If he had made any headway with her, I probably would have been happy for the guy because we were part of the same clique.  Furthermore, I didn’t want to be seen by him as a potential threat.  Anybody that remembers Otm Shank knows that he was much more bark than bite, but he was also good chums with assholes who would have had no problem making my life uncomfortable.  I just didn’t need to run that risk. 

Yeah, I just threw Otm Shank under the bus a little bit there, but I’ll call us even now.  I always thought we were friends, but I’d find out years later that the guy would trash me whenever I wasn’t around.  I’ve never known why.  The point of this isn’t to air past grievances however and I have none to announce anyways.  I hear he’s married now and living in Florida.  Like Sandiego, I can only assume he’s happy with how things turned out.  Everything works out the way it’s meant to and I wish him the best success in whatever he’s doing.

I sincerely hope I haven’t overstepped any bounds here by bringing any of this information to light.  I do worry these blogs will do more harm than good.  None of the blogs in this crush mini-series NEED to be written; nobody really gains anything from these revelations.  I’d feel more comfortable writing these things if I had a steady relationship of my own to point to (ideally marriage) because that would presumably remove any suspicions that the main subject has about my reasons for writing them.  That relationship just isn’t going to happen anytime soon and you’ll have to trust my intentions.  The purpose of all my blogs has always been to provide a window into my past and present frame of mind and to give the readers some (hopefully) cheap laughs at my expense.  On the plus side for Sandiego, I can probably count my loyal blog followers on one hand.  Furthermore, the chances that any of them correctly identify her identity are next to none.  I must admit that the previous crush recognized herself and I’d certainly expect Sandiego to do the same if she reads this.  As I’ve said in the past, if you’re dying to know more about anything you read, all you need do is ask.  I’m an open book.  It’s funny; most girls claim they want their man to be more emotionally available.  Bet this makes you think twice.  To the relief of every female out there, I think I can safely say that I only have one more crush after this which warrants writing about.