Annie and Carbon: Then and Now

His ears actually stick up now (you just can't see it)

Acceptance

Within all of us there exists the eternal conflict between the person we wish we were and the person we actually are. It is normal to hope that as we age we bring the two closer or at least onto speaking terms but really, this is a false presumption. In fact, it is entirely possible that for most of us the opposite is true. For as we age we become more and more invested in the path we have chose. Less willing (or able) to turn back and change course, even in insignificant ways. We become hardened and incapable of any change. As we sit there waiting for the world to come to us it moves away.

If we are ever to halt this divergence we must find acceptance: of the people we are, the way the world is, and the fragility of it all. A large part of this is giving up any pursuit of happiness. There is nothing wrong with striving for greatness, but we should do it for the sake of greatness, not happiness. True happiness does not exist, only the idea of happiness. If we stop aiming for this impossible ideal; stop romanticizing our past and trying to move backwards; stop creating standards that nothing and no one can ever live up to we can finally cast off our shackles. Acceptance that we will never be the person we wish we were is the only way that we can actually get closer to that person.

Fifteen

I attended my 15th high school reunion Saturday. I almost didn't go because I had to work in the morning but I got out early and found my way up there. I was glad I did, although it was a little disappointing to see that only about 30 people (out of ~110) showed up. As expected, most of my former classmates were fat, married and had numerous kids, many of which were present at the event. Ann St. Claire, who was one of my better friends in high school, walked away from her 3 month old and asked me to watch her for a minute, which briefly sent me into a panic. I am not sure what made her think that I was capable of taking care of her infant child. If only she could see the state of my dying house plants... or if maybe she knew that I had abandoned my 2 cats without making any arrangement to have someone feed them she might not have left me with her child so readily. Luckily, after seeing the frightened look on my face, none of my other child bearing classmates made the same mistake.

I was not the most popular, best looking, smartest, or most athletic kid in high school. I was not completely unpopular; our Quaker school lacked the established hierarchy that many schools have, making it difficult or impossible to know who is at the top or the bottom. I was not ugly; I just lacked style and self confidence. I was not dumb; I just didn't have the natural genius or the work ethic to get straight As. I played sports; I just was never a standout. For all intensive purposes, the best word to describe me in high school would be "anonymous". This, I am sure, is why many of my classmates looked at me with a sense of bewilderment as they tried to remember anything about me.

There is a tendency to revert back to the behavior of our youth when we are around those we spent our youth in the company of. I remember going to Michelle's 10th year reunion in Seattle and seeing how it ended early because one of her classmates got in a fight with the bartender, eventually leading to the cops coming and shutting the whole party down. In my case, it was more that I felt myself revert back to a shy, awkward, self-conscious teenager. Having a few beers after the official ceremonies ended helped that situation tremendously.

Being that most of the people I used to hang out with were either absent or went home early to take care of their infants, I spent most the night with people that I never hung out with much at all in high school. After the bar, we headed to Adam Walter's house for some pizza, beer, beer pong, flip cup and weed. Whatever resemblance our reunion had to an adult gathering was quickly lost. Adam is going through a divorce right now and although his wife and kids were [obviously] absent, the signs of them were everywhere: photographs, kid's drawings, safety plugs for electrical outlets and toys everywhere. I have to admit that it was a bit surreal to be throwing ping pong balls into plastic cups filled with beer in the middle of this environment, though admittedly, the beer was Leffe. Too drunk to drive home, I passed out in a bed with 2 other people. When I woke up at 6 AM, I felt bad about leaving a house with quite a bit of pizza, beer and puke on different parts of the floor for Adam to clean up, but I wouldn't have even know where to start.

To me this all brings about the question of how you really know someone. I haven't seen most of these people in 15 years. They weren't there for everything that's happened in my adult life: college, careers, relationships coming and going, moving from place to place. And I haven't seen what has happened in their lives either. I wasn't their at their college graduations, when they passed their medical school board exams, at their weddings or when their kids were born. But do we know each other any less? Maybe we are a product of all our experiences. Maybe we continue to grow as we get older like magnificent trees. But maybe we begin our lives as wonderfully pure beings, slowly peeling away like the layers of an onion, until nothing is left but tears. Maybe the ones who knew us as children are really the ones who know us best; before we had traveled so far down our path of decline and decay. Before we lost all innocence. Before we became so cynical that we no longer knew what we believe, or if we believed anything at all.

Or maybe it is both. Maybe we are what we were, what we are now and what we will be all at once. Those that knew us as children and adults do indeed have a more complete picture, even if they only see a brief snapshot every five years because they can put that picture in context.

Unfortunately no one can see the people we have not yet become... or what we will never become.