In late June of 1993, I did finally lay siege to the unibrow. Over the course of the summer, I would take the bus to the Old Orchard shopping center in Skokie to undergo a series of electrolysis treatments. I knew that dismantling the unibrow required heavy artillery. The female practitioner applied a tool that conducted electric currents to the hair follicles. Imagine the laser blasters used in Ghostbusters, just much smaller. The sessions would last approximately 60 minutes and dear Lord was it painful. Hey, if eyebrow electro-shock laser assaults were what was required to get the job done, then so be it. Beauty has its price, right? It sure does because that is where a lot of my Dominick’s paycheck went that summer!
Two eyebrows are better than one!
I don’t look back upon my senior year with any great sense of nostalgia. My feelings of nostalgic longing still stay rooted to junior high, 8th grade, the summer of 1991, and even the Pittsburgh years in an odd way. Senior year was a necessary, rehabilitative passage, but not the fantastic, fun-filled voyage I had desired. I had also belatedly drifted out of childhood. Suddenly, I looked around and it was over. It was apparent in how I thought and how I realized that the past needed to be left behind where it belonged.
In late May I took a bus ride along Montrose Avenue into the old surroundings of where Gospel Outreach used to be. I walked around the building that at one time housed the grade school in the Ravenswood neighborhood. Then I made my way west to Horner Park and where the high school once was. Funny enough, it is a song by a band I had no affinity for a young man that wrote a song fitting for the occasion.
Most people when they arrive at middle age take time to look back. It is the natural course within the rhythm of life. The process has forced me to confront some truths about my past that have burdened me into adulthood. I have tried to be very honest about my recollections.
The underachievers of this world have a tale to tell as well. There is a place for the telling of a less obviously glamorous story. Our teen years are a period of life that is very fragile and in the dark moments fraught with uncertainty and fear. It is a universal that everyone encounters. We can’t all be laser-focused, relentlessly driven, goal-oriented robots. Christ, the world would be a terribly boring place if those were the only stories told.
There are those who read my previous memoirs focusing on 8th grade and my high school experience in Pittsburgh. Their overwhelming feeling coming away from the writing was one of sadness. I understand that viewpoint. There were some desperately hard moments. But I also had moments when I felt on top of the world. Euphoric moments when adrenaline coursed through my body. My heart and mind reached heights of dizzying excitement. As silly as it sounds, I always believed in my own star. Despite all the insecurities and lack of accomplishment, I always held onto an innate belief in myself. Even if there was scant evidence to outside observers for my position ;).
As an adult, I’ve landed in a reasonable spot. My varied interests and whimsical nature have led me down some unlikely paths. Adulthood has been anything but conventional. I have been very fortunate in the grand scheme. Perhaps I will share those stories down the line. Far more likely, however, I would turn the clock farther back to my days in Ireland as a young boy. “Show me a boy when he’s 7 and I’ll show you the man.” Galway, Ireland in the summer and fall of 1982 is where the obsession with sport, music, and film all took root.
If you have made it this far, thank you for reading.
Gospel Outreach School and High School Memories 1988-1992 