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. 

Crushes, Part 3

Time frame = 5^th-7^th grade

Code name = Linear Regression

This is the first crush chronologically that I can write about with any substance.  As you’ll note from the time frame, this affair is one that consumed a large chunk of my youth. 2 plus years at that age is nothing to sneeze at given the attention span of most kids.  I still consider 5^th grade to be the best year of my grade school experience.  It wasn’t entirely due to the presence of Linear Regression, but it was an important part of it.  The home room setup couldn’t have been more perfect.  In the back corner, it was myself, Matt Meinheit (my childhood best friend), John Cann (another real good childhood friend), and of course, Linear Regression.  Mrs. Montpetit, good friends with my parents, was the teacher’s aide who sat near us in the back corner.  The chance to joke around with 2 great friends and flirt with the girl I was crushing on?  Sign me up.  All 4 of us were good students who understood how to have fun in class without getting in any sort of real trouble.  Intelligence has always been a turn-on for me and that was one of Linear Regression’s appealing qualities.  Our own little “Rat Pack” was a great fit and it made for a memorable year.  I’d like to think that over the course of the year, Linear Regression and I were able to develop a nice little bond, but I’m probably just remembering it through my own rose-tinted glasses.

There were plenty of school events that I eagerly anticipated attending with the idea that I would do something amazing to garner her attention.  One such event I recall was at an indoor roller skating rink.  I should tell you that I’m not very adept at skating now and I was probably worse back then.  I maneuvered around the rink on trembling legs akin to those of a fawn learning to walk for the first time.  Stopping was a bigger issue, but I’d ease my way up to a wall and play it cool if someone shot me a questioning look.  I’d give the slight head nod, suggesting ‘That’s how I roll.’ (See what I did there?)  So why the swagger when I should seemingly have none?  I had on one of my favorites outfits, which gave me the confidence I needed to take on roller skating – my teal Larry Johnson jersey and purple sweats.  I was also wearing my self-anointed “cool” gold-plated arrowhead necklace.  Speaking of LJ, “Grandmama” was my favorite player growing up not named Michael Jordan.  My collection of different LJ trading cards exceeds 100.  What does LJ have to do with a girl I had a crush on?  Nothing, but Linear Regression didn’t show up on this particular night.  I just wanted to use this event to demonstrate how inept I really was.  Purple sweats?!  Sheesh, I never had a chance.  Oh well, that simply meant I could spend more time in the arcade playing NBA Jam (as the Hornets of course) and less time staggering around the rink trying to impress a girl.

What I’m about to reveal next takes a little courage……I would put “Next to You (Someday I’ll Be)” by Wilson Phillips on a repeating loop and sing along while daydreaming about Linear Regression.  What I’m about to further reveal takes even more courage……I still have that song in my music library and I still willingly listen to it when the occasion calls for it. You know, those times when you’re reminiscing and an infectious pop song is needed to take you back.  Wilson Phillips’ self-titled album is full of those goodies.  Don’t judge me. 

Yes, this is the song I associate with this particular crush (apparently You Tube doesn’t have an official video, or at least not one that syncs up the lyrics with the video).

As we came into the home stretch that 5^th grade year, I figured it was finally time to lay my cards on the table.  My decided approach paints an accurate picture of my lifelong affliction of being incapable of telling a girl (directly) how I feel.  So I wrote a letter to Linear Regression explaining my feelings and asking her thoughts on being my girlfriend.  I decided to slip this letter in her locker after school right before we left for Easter break.  I don’t know why I felt the need to delay the inevitable.  Was the presence of that letter sitting at the bottom of a locker for a whole week going to change the situation?  Maybe I thought I was planting a seed and a week of growth would improve my chances.  In hindsight, the decision to deliver this letter when I did could not have been a worse one.  It was pure, self-induced torture.  My family used the week of vacation to visit our relatives in Mississippi.  I should have been using this time to take advantage of the deep southern hospitality but all I could think about was that damn letter.  What was her response going to be? I must have played out a dozen scenarios in my mind; turns out I missed one. 

As we return to class a week later, the anticipation reaching its boiling point, I get my response. Linear Regression thinks… it’s a joke. A joke! A joke?  Well, we did have a lot of laughs that year and it’s certainly conceivable how she could interpret the letter as a juvenile prank.  I was obviously crushed that it wasn’t a “Yes”, but her reaction did provide me with a convenient out.  I could play along, confirm her assessment of the letter, and maintain the status quo.  It seemed like the only viable option when faced with the awkward humiliation that would have otherwise existed.  So that’s exactly what I did, grateful that all was not lost.  That remains the only letter of its kind I’ve ever written to a girl.  I actually contemplated writing another one to someone else very recently, but it would have only been to express past feelings and not to request a relationship.  That’s perhaps another story for another submission in this mini-series.  I can’t say I’m any better now than I was back then at expressing my feelings; I guess I’m still searching for the words to compose that perfect letter.

6^th grade didn’t offer any real developments in my quest of Linear Regression.  We didn’t share a home room this time and our interaction was understandably diminished.  I didn’t waver in my feelings for her but I had resolved myself to the fact that it wasn’t meant to be.  The only story I have to relay from this year deals with math.  The math teacher, Mr. Wise, had these “Problem of the Day” questions that dealt with math and problem-solving.  Tallies of correct answers were kept and a winner was declared each quarter of the school year.  Those who know me know that I love competitions of any kind and I really wanted to win at least one quarter so I could go down in the history book (the one being written in my head).  I lost in a tiebreaker one quarter to Ricky Taranda or Chris Crevier.  (I don’t remember which, but they were arguably the 2 smartest kids in the grade, so there’s no shame in that I guess).  I ended up in a 3-way tie for first in another quarter, so I’d get yet another chance for victory.  As you may have guessed by now, Linear Regression was one of the finalists (and the other is completely irrelevant and unmemorable).  I was glad she was in the finals because maybe, just maybe, she’d have a little more respect for me and my smarts, which would lead to something.  Part of me even considered letting her win but that was short-lived as the competitive nature in me took over.  Needless to say, I won the tie-breaker and I don’t think she was too particularly thrilled with me.  It’s a recurring theme but I guess I’ve always put myself first. (I keep telling you all I’m too selfish to support a girlfriend).

We reached junior high and there was a whole new stable of girls to attract my attention (Peotone’s school district has 3 grade schools).  Still, I knew who I wanted; old feelings don’t die so easily.  As luck would have it, Linear Regression and I ended up on the same MYSA team in the fall of 7^th grade.  (MYSA is a recreational soccer league and playing soccer also gave her high marks in my book.)  Being teammates was fortunate because I feel like I do my best work with girls when there is a sport or game involved.  I don’t want to imply that my “game” actually improves in those environments, but I’m in my element and there’s an inherent confidence that comes with that.  Some (most) guys can bring the goods at a party or on the bar scene; that’s just never been me. 

So, Linear Regression and I are flirting back and forth one practice and I decide to pop the question – the same one that fateful letter failed so miserably at.  And wouldn’t you know it? I got a YES!  Looking back, I think we’d all agree that 7^th graders really have no clue what “going out” really means.  It was a social status more than anything.  Truthfully, it still is, just with a different meaning.  I had finally reached the mountain top but a peculiar feeling engulfed me after the initial joy subsided.  I wasn’t so sure any more that a relationship with Linear Regression was what I really wanted.  There’s that old cliché about the chase of the prize being more exciting than the prize itself, and I’d say that really was the case here.  This isn’t to diminish the girl who was and, by all accounts, still is a great person.  Maybe I just wasn’t the same person I was back in 5^th grade.  Maybe I had cold feet over being in uncharted waters (most likely since that would still be the case today).  Maybe over the years we had simply evolved into just friends who could banter back and forth with ease.  Whatever the reason, the spark just wasn’t there.  I really wasn’t sure how to proceed.  At the next MYSA practice a couple days later, Linear Regression approaches me and says she’d like to break it off.  Maybe she’d realized what a horrible mistake she’d made.  (Call me what you will but I’ve been trying to help girls from making that same mistake ever since).  I think the fact that I wasn’t crushed by her sudden change of heart was all the proof I needed that the crush had reached the end of its path.  I whole-heartedly agreed and it truly was a mutual break-up.

Going forward, Linear Regression and I were never really friends throughout junior high and high school.  There was never any weirdness between us.  We just didn’t see a lot of each other.  I still see her from time to time and it’s always a pleasant exchange.  I wonder if she’ll see this and correctly peg herself.  If she does, I hope she gets a good chuckle and remembers that this is all ancient history. J

Crushes, Part 2

[For background details on this mini-series, go here]

 

Time frame = 8^th grade

Code name = Linebacker

 

This was the girl on the list I definitely had the least contact with.  It was very much in the vein of the crush you desire from afar.  In fact, I’m not even sure we ever even talked (probably something that still holds true).  Whatever glimmer of hope I may have had didn’t last very long; Tina Szudarski made sure of that.  Somehow word must have gotten out that I liked Linebacker.  I’m not sure if Tina was sent by Linebacker or if she was being proactive on her friend’s behalf.  The brief conversation at my locker went something like this:

                Tina: Is it true that you like Linebacker?

I was somewhat taken aback by the directness of the question.  Obviously I did, but the tone of the question definitely suggested it was one I didn’t want to say yes to. There was a chance Tina was being the intermediary because Linebacker was too shy (much like myself) to make any move, but I knew better.  I decided to squash the “rumor” to try and save face.

                Me:  Uh, no.

                Tina:  Well good, because she definitely doesn’t like you.

                Well I’m glad we got that cleared up.

So there really isn't much more to the story than that.  I did my best to avoid Linebacker going forward and played it as cool as a Younker is possibly capable of whenever she was around.  Knowing exactly where I stood probably made things a lot easier and allowed me to move on without any lingering feelings.

Crushes, Part 1

Background:  A couple weeks ago, I got to thinking about the former crushes I had.  I started compiling a list.  Then I started thinking about my experiences, or lack thereof, with each.  It sure seemed like a decent enough idea for a mini-series in this blog. (Yes, I realize the mini-series dealing with the life lessons I've learned while progressing through school remains incomplete.  I plan on finishing it at least through sixth grade, but I just sorta hit the wall on that topic.  So I'm going in this direction for a while).  My biggest internal debate with this mini-series is whether I want to divulge the names of the girls involved.  I really don't have an issue with anybody knowing their names but maybe they do. I've decided to assign them all code names.  Maybe you can crack the code with the details provided or maybe you can just ask me; I'll probably tell you.  I'm also providing a time frame just to put things in some perspective.  Before I begin, let it be stated that I'm not seeking any personal gain from this.  What's revealed here is mostly ancient history and for informational purposes only.  Maybe some of the girls on this list will get a laugh, maybe some would even be flattered (yeah, it was hard saying that with a straight face).  Of course, this all assumes that said girls would read this (unlikely) or a friend of said girls would read it, put the pieces together, and inform said girl (probably just as unlikely).  I know some of the girls on the list are happily married and others are in stable relationships.  For the rest, I can only assume one of the two is true.  All of them have my blessing.  I'll cover one crush at a time, and there's no set number I have in mind. There's also no order to which these crushes will be written about.  It's not chronological or in terms of significance.  I'm just picking one and writing about them.  We'll see how long this fad lasts.

Time frame = College

Code name = Kung Pow

I met this girl while working at Sportmart (now Sports Authority) during college.  This one was the closest thing I’ve ever had to “crush at first sight”.  It probably wasn’t first sight but I remember liking her pretty much immediately.  She had a look and smile that just drew me in. Once I found out she was a soccer player, it was game on.  So I’d do whatever it took to be around her while at work – find excuses to wander into her section of the store, park my car near hers so we could walk out together, etc.  Everything short of making any kind of significant move of course.  I never parked in that section of the parking lot before Kung Pow arrived, but I never parked anywhere else for the rest of my years at the store, long after she was gone.  That never dawned on me until I sat down and started writing this, and I’m sure it has everything to do with us humans just being creatures of habit.  I just found it interesting is all. 

There was no three strikes policy at this point, but it’s safe to say that my experiences with Kung Pow paved the way to the doctrine so near and dear to my heart today.  My first invite to her was to my friend Bult’s 4^th of July party, and those parties were always pretty bitchin’.  Alas, she was going to be out of town visiting relatives.  It was during this conversation she revealed that she was somehow related to Jason Mraz and he would be at this family gathering.  Pretty cool I thought. This was around the time when “The Remedy (I Won’t Worry)” was getting a lot of radio play.  After the way this crush played out, I transferred my disdain for Kung Pow onto Mraz and, by extension, that song.  I’m OK with the song now but those privy to my music library will note that it doesn’t contain any more of his songs (and he’s had other singles).  I’ll still forever think of Kung Pow when I hear “The Remedy” though. 

 

My second invite and the one I was most excited for was our annual Labor Day party.  She agreed to come and we exchanged numbers in case she got lost.  I don’t know what I was really expecting to happen but she was coming and that was good enough for me.  The party happens and she doesn’t show.  Not even so much as a call, which really irked me.  Strike two.  You best believe that scenario is accounted for in the three strikes policy.  So the next time I saw her at work, I confronted her about it.  Her reason had something to do with her grandma being real sick, possibly dying.   I don’t really remember.  I was less than compassionate about it you could say.  I felt slighted and made it clear that I would have at least appreciated a notification from her.  I wasn’t even sure I believed her excuse reason and questioned its truthfulness.  Dumb move; it made her cry.  While we were able to regain speaking terms, it never was the same again.  I wish I could say that was the last girl I would ever call out for being a no show only to have her reveal the cause was some sort of death…  My luck and timing are impeccable no doubt.

Why did I act as I did toward Kung Pow?  In retrospect, it was unjustified.  I guess I was just really, really excited about her coming and I’ve always been harsher on the people I care most about.  My expectations are higher with them (perhaps unrealistically so) and I feel like I have a longer leash.  So if I’m rough on you, you should take it as a sign of true caring.  As the summer was coming to a close and she was heading back to college, I decided to take one final stab before she left.  I learned of a disc golf course near the store and thought it would be a great opportunity to hang out and talk.  I whole-heartedly endorse that as a first date setting by the way.  I’ve used it once before and would do so again.  Anyway, I had Kung Pow’s number from before.  After working up some nerve (and that took some doing I’ll tell you), I finally made the call.  It rang… and rang… and rang… and rang.  Nothing, not even voicemail.  Well, that was the cosmic sign that it was the end of the road.  Strike three as it were.  She went back to school a week or two later and I never did see her again.  I opened up my old journal and found an old passage I wrote the day before this uneventful call.  Heh, what a trip to compare my thoughts and expectations back then to what they are now.  Ah, the old journal.  I’m a pretty open book (if you couldn’t tell) but there’s stuff in there even I probably wouldn’t share with anyone.

I shared the tale with my friend Tom after it happened and he could tell I was a little distraught.  Being the good friend he is, he affectionately dubbed her “Sportmart Bitch” to help remind me that it was her loss.  We had some laughs and got some good run out of the nickname.  Somewhere along the line, Tom made a pledge to periodically call the number himself and see if he could get a response.  Just like me, he got nothing and I forgot about his vow.  Several months later when he was down at EIU, he called me proclaiming that I would never guess who he just talked to (Sportmart Bitch, in case you’re poor at making inferences).  Apparently, she had that number disconnected for a while.  It was an amusing little footnote to this crush but nothing more.  In the back of my mind, I always wondered if Kung Pow would stop in the store sometime (she lived in the area, or at least I thought she still did) just so I could see her and catch up.  Amazingly, we somehow ended up friends (and still are, for whatever that’s worth) on Facebook.  I don’t even remember Facebook being a thing the last time we talked.

2014 Update:  Kung Pow and I have since reconnected.  She's still really cool and if she reads this, I hope she isn't too offended any of it.  It's how I felt at the time and not necessarily what I feel now.  I enjoy hanging out with her and I harbor no ill feelings from the past.

Three Strikes Policy

It's been a while since I've posted something.  To fill the void, allow me to introduce you to the three strikes policy I've created and adhere to.  I stand behind this policy but acknowledge that all potential scenarios may not be accounted for.  Therefore, I encourage any relevant feedback to make this a more complete and airtight document.

I.        Strikes - A strike is charged to an individual when he/she is invited to an event and does not attend.  The reason for the absence is irrelevant.

II.      Maximum Number of Strikes – The maximum number of strikes an individual may incur is three.  Once the 3^rd strike is received, no further invites will be granted for that particular event, as three strikes provide ample opportunity to attend said event.  This punishment is otherwise known as the “death penalty” as there is no more severe form of punishment that can be handed down.  It can be safely assumed that a 3-strike individual has not attended the event for one of two general reasons.  In either case, the end result is the same.

a.       The individual has no desire to attend the event.

b.      The individual always has conflicting plans that precludes them from attending the event.

III.    Separation of Strikes – Each event is treated independently with respect to strikes received.  For example, an individual may have three strikes for a particular event.  That will not prevent them from receiving an invite for a different event.  Strikes are also never transferred.  If an individual has two strikes for Event A and then receives a strike for Event B, they are still at two strikes for Event A.  The reason(s) for not attending Event B may be completely unrelated to Event A.  For example, the individual may have a continuous, conflicting engagement with Event B; that engagement would not be the reason for missing Event A.

IV.    Exemption from Strikes – Once an individual attends an event, he/she is no longer subject to the 3-strikes policy. It does not matter if the person has none, one, or two against them.  The person will have an eternal invite to the invite.  It does not matter if the person subsequently declines three consecutive invites.  Once the person has demonstrated the ability and willingness to attend the event, there will always be the chance they can and will do so in the future.

V.      Individuals vs. Couples – Couples are treated as a single entity with respect to strikes.  It is assumed that the couple will attend or miss the event together.  When one member of a couple is invited, the other member is invited by default.  Only one member of the couple needs to have less than three strikes against them in order for both individuals to attend.  For example, Person A may have incurred three strikes as an individual.  Person B has one strike as an individual.  If Person A and Person B subsequently develop a relationship, the invite will go to Person A and Person B whenever possible.  If a relationship is terminated, both individuals will return to their pre-relationship strike counts.  Using the previous example, Person A would no longer receive an invite due to having three strikes.  Person B would still receive an invite because they have just one strike.  Person A did not attend the event as an individual so their presence may have been entirely dependent on their relationship with Person B. They no longer have the inherent privilege of being invited because of their relationship to an individual in good standing with the event.

VI.    Strikes for Couples – Strikes incurred against a couple do not have any impact on the strikes of each member of the couple.  If a couple receives three strikes, the couple will no longer receive any invites as long as the relationship ensues.  As a member of a couple, the individual may not have wanted to attend or could not attend due to the external factors of the couple.  For example, Person A may have had no interest in the event.  Person B (in a relationship with Person A) may have wanted to attend the event but chose not to at the wishes of their partner.  If their relationship ends, Person B may now have the freedom to attend.

VII.  Exceptions – The following are exceptions that supersede any previously stated portions of the policy.

a.       A person with three strikes may receive an invite provided they are proactive in demonstrating their desire to attend the event.  They must formally request an invite to the event and provide verbal assurance that their interest is genuine and they plan to attend.  If the person determines they are unable to attend, the host must be notified.  This clause may be invoked because an individual did not realize what they were missing when they received their three strikes.  The person may have subsequently attended the event as part of a relationship.  Although the relationship may have terminated, this person still wishes to attend as an individual entity.  Failure to notify will result in the complete devaluation of their “word”.  It is very likely that any future requests will be completely ignored.  Notifying the host of their inability to attend does not wholly satisfy the requirements to earn subsequent invites.  The process of requesting an invitation must be repeated until a successful attendance is completed.  The individual must actually follow through with attending the event in order for their interest to be recognized as genuine.

b.      A person who has earned exemption from the strikes may no longer receive an invite to the event.  Extreme circumstances may dictate that the user is no longer welcome at the event.  This person will be assigned a persona non grata status.  It will be up to the host’s discretion as to when this status may be assigned to an individual. Anyone assigned persona non grata status can be re-invited at any time.  However, the individual will be subject to the three-strike rule until they attend the event again.  The individual needs to revalidate their commitment to the event.

c.       If a person accepts an invitation to an event (by any means provided) and then subsequently foregoes the event without giving notice to the event organizer, that shall be seen as a breach of common courtesy.  The offending party may then be subject to any punishment that is deemed fitting by the event organizer.  This may be exclusion from future, non-related events.  The offending party, however, should not be assessed an extra strike for the event in question since their absence is still simply just one absence.

Life Lessons - Fifth Grade

Mrs. Gardner taught math class.  Naturally, I was doing quite well with my grades.  I felt like I could do this stuff in my sleep, so boredom started to creep in.  One day I decided that reading a Sports Illustrated for Kids magazine was a better use of my time than paying attention. I discreetly lifted up my math book and put the magazine behind it.  I know, how clever of me.  So the class progresses with no issues until Tim Claxton decides to tattle on me.  Now, I was generally a good kid who behaved himself in class, so I turned ghostly white at the thought of what potential trouble I was in.  Instead, what happened next was the deliverance of perhaps the single greatest line ever uttered by a teacher.  Sounding clearly annoyed that someone would interrupt her teaching for this, Mrs. Gardner addressed Tim, “If your grades were as good as his are, you could do that too.  Now pay attention and stop worrying about him.”  My jaw just dropped.  Not only was I home free, I was essentially given carte blanche to read what I saw fit during class.  I had to restrain the grin that started to grow on my face because she was basically advertising my brilliance to the rest of the class.  The icing on the cake was that my accuser was put in his place, called out for all the class to see.  Out of respect to Mrs. Gardner’s backing, I put the magazine away…until the next day.  This taught me that sometimes the ends do justify the means.  I wasn’t disturbing anyone else’s learning; I was doing the work and receiving high marks.  As long I produced the results, why should my methods be questioned?  I almost developed a false air of invincibility in the classroom after this.  Of course, I’d later get my comeuppance. (Did I just do some foreshadowing there?)  Oh yeah, I also learned that Mrs. Gardner was one extremely cool old lady.

Dad's Retirement

I’d just like to take a moment to recognize my dad on his upcoming retirement at the end of the month.  Over 30 years with the same company.  That’s a hard number for someone like me to fathom, especially when you consider the average person in my generation will work 4 or 5 jobs.  There are plenty of people at Kraft who would be more than willing to step up and talk about his accomplishments.  There are probably even more people who will tell you about his character and how much they respect him.  The impact he has made and will leave behind him at Kraft is clear.  However, it’s the career achievements that never happened which are most important to me.  Given my dad’s education, aptitude and work ethic, I have no doubt that he could have climbed the corporate ladder as far as he wanted.  I sincerely mean that.  Early on in his professional career though, he made the decision that family would come first.  This meant he was always there to coach our soccer teams or help us with our school work.  The list would go on and on.  For all that, dad, I will be eternally grateful.  I think I speak for both my brother and sister when I say that it was the right decision.  Despite his commitment to family, he still gave his job the attention it deserved, and then some.  As his work responsibilities grew, so did his investment of time to the company.  Believe me, he was entrusted with some extremely difficult tasks and he owned them all.  Kraft knew it would take someone like him to right the ship in places it was off course.  Those in the family know about the long 14 hour days, which were far too often the norm and not the exception.  We know about the crazy hours he’d have to keep just so he could meet with 3^rd shift.  Frankly, I still don’t know how he found the time and energy to do everything he does.  Well, fortunately, that time is going to be a lot more abundant now.  I’m sure he’ll just fill it with something new though and the next chapters of his life will be just as impressive as the ones already written.  I hope he just takes some time to step back and relax.  I hope he can reflect on all that he’s accomplished and is damn proud of it; we all are.  He has shown us how to be a great professional and father.  I know I’ve still got a lot to learn about life, but if I end up being half the man my dad is when it’s all said and done, I’ll know I have done alright.  Here’s to a well deserved retirement.  Congratulations, Dad!

Life Lessons - Fourth Grade

We often like to compare ourselves to others as a measuring stick.  It’s only logical because it’s difficult to assess one’s own abilities and situations in a vacuum.  Sometimes these comparisons provide us with the validation we need to explain our sense of pride over a good outcome or our feeling of acceptance over a bad one.  Or so I thought.  Good grades weren’t just appreciated in my family, they were expected.  For the most part, I was able to deliver.  There was a particular science (always my least favorite subject) test this year where I scored very poorly; I'm pretty certain it was a 'D’.  I was somewhat pacified by the fact that over half the class failed this test.  So I was still better than half the class.  Surely that had to count for something, right?  My mom would hear none of it.  “But moooommmm, over half the class failed.”  “I don’t care about the other kids, I care about you...[more rambling about not following other kids if they jumped off a bridge]”  She understood that merely besting my classmates did not directly correlate to a successful academic career.  Good is good because it’s good not because it’s better than not good. (Feeling a little dumber after reading that sentence? You could read it again slowly but I’d recommend just moving on.)  It’s like playing golf; you’re really playing the course and not your riding partner.  If you shoot 40 over to his 50 over, do you really walk away feeling good about yourself?  (I might but I really suck at golf.)  I can’t say I don’t make those types of comparisons anymore.  Life is one big scoreboard and we always want to see where our name falls on it.  But I learned not to let anyone else’s failures be the justification for my own.  You can also be sure I never tried that argument again after a bad grade…that is, unless I had nothing else to go to. J

Life Lessons - Third Grade

I always considered myself a fairly intelligent kid, but I had my doubts until 3^rd grade.  Our school had what they called the “gifted program”.  Its members were children that demonstrated an aptitude to handle the regular school work with relative ease.  Accordingly, the school must have believed these kids were at heightened risk of being unchallenged and bored.  Those in the gifted program were taken away for an hour every day to do god knows what.  For all we knew, it could have been an extra hour of recess as reward for their exceptional talents.  I was acutely aware of this program’s existence and that I wasn’t a part of it while in 2^nd grade.  I even felt a little jealousy over my exclusion.  I got good grades and there were even times I couldn’t fathom why some of my fellow classmates were unable to solve the problems laid before us.  Really?  Do we have to go through this again?  What did these gifted kids have that I didn’t?  I reached the conclusion that I wasn’t really the genius I thought I was… Then one day the teacher pulled me aside and told me I was getting called up to the show.  Instant joy and excitement ensued.  I was going to the land of Oz to see the man behind the curtain.  The gifted program never did quite live up to my lofty expectations, but that’s not really important here.  However, one of the things we learned about during my 1^st year in the program was this ancient civilization called the Mayans.  They had this calendar that supposedly abruptly stopped in the year 2012, signaling an apocalyptic end to the world.  If the world was truly going to end in 2012, I didn’t see the need to make any major life decisions until I knew there would be an actual lifetime to see them through.  I can’t honestly sit here and tell you that my current 30/35/40 plan (which is worthy of a blog all on its own) resulted from my exposure to the Mayan calendar.  I’m also fully convinced that we’ll all still be here when the calendar flips to 2013.  Still, is it not somewhat curious that I turn, you guessed it, 30, in the year following 2012?  I guess you could say being “gifted” made me the great procrastinator I am today.  That reminds me, I should start working on my post-30 excuse to defer adulthood… Eh, there’s always tomorrow.

Life Lessons - Second Grade

My grade was always split into 3 classes throughout elementary school. There was this one time we were packed like sardines into 1 classroom to watch a movie. Mrs. Keith was a pleasantly plump woman. While weaving her way through a row of seated students, her rump collided with Tim Nevinger’s head, nearly knocking him out of his chair. I was sitting behind Tim, so it easily could have been me. Once I got over the initial relief of literally not being a butthead, I couldn’t stop laughing. Actually, there was very little external laughing; I was able to restrain myself and focus on the movie. But the internal laughter? It just wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t get that picture out of my head and it always threatened to spur a giggle loop. This seems like an appropriate time to endorse the British sitcom “Coupling”. It’s worth some of your time. 

Anyway, I decided it would be a good idea to pay tribute to Mrs. Keith’s butt (I probably should have chose my words better, but this typewriter is unforgiving) by re-enacting the scene with my brother.  Next time I saw an opportunity, I took it.  Eventually this form of combat found a home in the brotherly wars.  Well that’s pretty lame you must be thinking.  Ah, but I haven’t told you the best part.  When you launch your backside into someone, you must cry out, “Boom! Mrs. Keith!”  I’m not above admitting that sometimes to this day I’ll even engage in this juvenile activity, and I NEVER forget to say the words.  Wait, what life lesson could you possibly have learned from this ordeal?  Second grade had no discernible impact on my life.  However, the self-imposed rules of this blog mini-series dictate that I cover each grade.  I gave you a story instead.  Sue me.  But I’m reading a “lessons learned” blog expecting a pearl of wisdom I can take away and apply to my own life.  Hey, this is about me and not you.  Stop reading nonsense like this and see a shrink.  There, you’ve just been educated.