I thought of my friend, Rafael, who recently wrote telling me it was his 34th birthday. As he said, "Twice 17".
Frank Sinatra used to sing a song that went:
It was a very good year
It was a very good year for small town girls
And soft summer nights
We’d hide from the lights
On the village green
The year I graduated from high school I was 17. My high school years were rather undistinguished to say the least. Although I was avidly interested in all kinds of sports, I only was a member of the Debate Team. As far as I could detect that didn't make a very big impression with girls, but then, nothing I did seem to impress them. Not only had I failed to maketh one lie down in green pastures, I didn't even know where any green pastures were.
When I finally did leave school I had to go to work. I didn't like that much either, especially when I discovered I needed to start paying for things myself. I still don't care for that much.
World War II was looming and when I thought of it, the uniforms were nice but I wasn't all a crazy about having someone shoot at me.
So, not being successful with girls--I guess they were called "women" by then--and not seeing myself as a roaring success in the work field, I decided I would try to be smarter than anyone else. Still being 17 years old, I enrolled in evening classes to study engineering at Northeastern University. It was just my luck to catch a calculus instructor who didn't seem to recognize my goal of being smarter than anyone else. Since the grade he gave me was no real indication of how smart I was, I repeated the course. I discovered that the second time through the course that this particular instructor was no more cognitive than he was the first time. I decided right then to disassociate myself from engineers as they obviously had no awareness of hidden talents. At least mine.
When I was 17 my life was so boring that I had a religious problem. I was a Catholic and made my confessions on a regular basis. At least I tried to but had trouble finding enough sins to confess. I used to go through all of the, "Shalt nots" and couldn't find many that pertained to my lifestyle. As an example, we had a neighbor, Mr. Fowler, and I couldn't even manage to covet his fat wife, though I tried just to have something to confess.
I even lied in the confessional once just so the next time I could confess to lying.
I think the priest in the confessional must have been frustrated. He would often say, "Is that all?”
To which I would reply, "Yes Father."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Father."
"Are you sure you have committed no more sins?"
"Yes Father."
"Nothing? Nothing at all?" By this time he sounded incredulous.
"Nothing Father."
Then there would be a big sigh, followed by the usual "Five Our Fathers and Five Hail Marys."
Sometimes there were other people waiting to confess and there were times I thought I could hear them giggling.
So, as I look back on being 17 years old, I wouldn't want to do that again for anything. Maybe it would be nice to be able to run as fast as I did when I was 17, but I would rather be my age and not have any reason to run.
I need to go put a new battery in my MP3 player before I forget and need to go through this whole thing again tomorrow.