I used to want to hide from my past. Specifically, the three years I spent in Middle School. With the recent unearthing of my middle school yearbooks, however, I felt compelled to revisit those years. Not for reasons of nostalgia, but to have something to post on this blog. Eventually I’ll have my entire history right here, for easy access.
Some Like It Hot is my seventh grade yearbook. That was the year of my Bar Mitzvah, the year my friend Andy began going to the same school as me, and it was smack dab in the middle of middle school. The deepest, darkest depths in the most horrible phase of my life.
Ramblin On was the motto of my middle school. We were the Cross Rams, so we rambled. We rambled around until we were allowed to go to high school.
The theme of the yearbook explained.
Mr. Dooley, a fantastic teacher. He looked like a Biology teacher from the 50’s, but in fact he was a Biology teacher in the 90’s.
This year, the yearbook staff was unable to finish the yearbook in time. Instead of the actual book, we received a four-page insert that our friends could sign. Then we’d stick the insert into the book when they finally arrived.
Against all odds, almost all four pages of my insert have been inscribed by multiple people.
If you’re wounding why I’m not posting my mug shot, it’s because there is no un-posting something as embarrassing as that on the internet.
I remember a distinct feeling of disappointment when I finally received my book. This is what we were waiting for? On the other hand, I knew a true account of my life and times would have looked much, much more hideous.
The gap between Some Like It Hot and my real life may be larger than any of my other yearbooks. I’m not sure how many memories will be warped due to this disparity, but my guess is all of them.
I wonder of there is a subgenre of book criticism called “yearbook criticism.”