9/11 + 18 Years

     I STILL REMEMBER.  I was in my car, it was early in the morning (here in California).  I was listening to a local, early-morning talk show, on 96.9 FM, The Eagle, KSEG out of Sacramento, driving my Mazda Miata towards a small coffee shop in what used to be called, "The Albertson's Plaza" (still many of the long-time residents do).  Hava-Java was the name, dark, full-beaned flavored coffee was the house drink, and doughnuts, crullers, maple bars, etc., as well as some cultural favorites of the Jordanian Christian couple that owned it.  The station engineer muttered something about an airplane crash, and to stand-by for more information.  The two guys on the morning show, which was broadcast "live" from the East coast, broke the news to the usual morning listeners, just as I pulled up at Hava-Java.

     When I walked in, the owner was watching the television, and saying over-and-over, "They've ruined us," and occasionally putting in a "They have no idea..."

     I walked passed him, and got my first glimpse of the fires in the first tower.  I was shocked and stunned, but I got my coffee, and hurried out the door to my car, and the half-mile to the high school where I taught, grabbing the TV remote before turning on the lights.  I checked enough to know that this had become a big deal, because all of the networks were covering it.  I selected FOX NEWS, and the TV stayed on that for the entire school day.

     Early that morning (well before the normal arrival time for students), a young man I'd never seen before came to my door, looked at the TV, and asked if he could come in.  I gave him my OK, so he picked a desk, and sat down.  It wasn't long before he was joined by a second, then a third; before long, I had students in every desk, only about half of which were mine.

     As the school's normal start time neared, I called the Office for advice.  I have a room full of students, some of which I know, many that I do not, and the first-period bell is about to go off.  They are quiet, talking softly among themselves, some asking questions that I try to answer as best I can.  Do I run them off?  Are we "holding school" like usual?  These kids are going to be scared, and want to be somewhere where they feel safe.  They are safe in my classroom, I have a list of names, grades, and first-period classes, I can send to you via my TA.  What do you want me to do?

     I already knew what I wanted them to do... hold classes (except for first-period), allow the classroom TV's to stay on a news channel all day, and allow me to deal with the emotions being touched-off by this horrific event.

     I had a reputation, among my students, for never lying to them about "life stuff," as they called it, making a promise to be truthful on the first day of school.  They'd ask stuff about my Navy experience, did I ever live alone?, how I met my wife, things about life beyond their little, sheltered environment.  Did I still have friends that I met in high school (I still think my answer to that is hysterical...)?

     I got to know my students in ways they would never understand.  I knew that most of my students would be in "panic mode," as was the case.  I knew they would see it as de-stabilizing force, making everything "different" and uncertain.  I knew they would need someone to look to, to be reassured that life was going to go on, pretty much as it had.  To help them understand that, yes, things would probably change, and be different, but that "different" wasn't a good/bad-thing, it was just different.

     Whether or not they knew it, they were looking for someone to take-charge, be a leader, step-up... I was glad I could be that person for my students.

The REAL reason I am not attending a 50-year class reunion.

     To be blunt, you people treated me like crap for four years.  I wasn't a "local," or someone who'd lived in Vacaville for a long time, I was somewhere between the military dependents, and the people who were drawn to town by CMF; I was actually both, because my dad was retired from the Navy and worked at CMF.

     I wasn't an athlete, at age 14, I had a nicotine addiction, but I did know a little about wrestling.  I "lettered" in wrestling for three years.  I spent a lot of nights keeping score for the leagues at Vaca Bowl, and knew some of ya'lls parents before I got to know you.  I hung out at "The Wall," one full block from campus, and a place where the smokers hung out.

     I went, alone, on Rooter's Busses, and felt like a part of something, until we'd get back to the school's parking lot, and I'd walk home, alone.  I was bullied, even knocked unconscious by a "blind siding," on the front lawn, no one cared.  The office refused to believe that the student who did it "would do such a thing".

     I admit, a lot of my problems were just that, my problems, and looking back, I didn't handle things as well as I could have, and that has nothing to do with you, my classmates.  I have a "back story" that effects my ability to trust people, and I'll leave it at that.

       I have a few friends from high school.  I play golf with a couple of them every week.  I've kept tabs with some of you through Facebook, and hope we can continue those relationships.

       Few people, if any, will notice that I am not there.  I went to 40 and 45, and few people even knew I was there.  Go back into the yearbooks, I'm not in any of the clubs or organizations.  I didn't help build any of the Homecoming floats, or do any of that stuff because nobody asked or invited me.  I'm not bitter.  I don't have any sense of loathing about my high school days, I've just had so many other experiences that have meant so much more to me.

     To my classmates of 1969, I send you my hearty greetings on the passing of another year, condolences for your losses, and my prayers that you will have health and success in your future.