Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #125: Class of 96, More Mall Dreams, Too Hot, etc.

1. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 30 years since I graduated from high school. At times, it feels like yesterday. That might be helped by the fact that I have the entire ceremony on video. I can see my old friends and classmates when we were all teenagers with our lives ahead of us. I can feel the promise of the years to come and not the weight of mistakes, missed opportunities, and ‘what ifs.’ I remember not realizing just how big a change was coming as I crossed the grassy field and took hold of my diploma. I think I was just itching to get out of the dress clothes on a warm late spring morning. Then again, way more often I feel like that day was a lifetime ago, and in many ways it was. I am now in my late 40s and most of the time feel as though I must have missed my exit on the highway we were all traveling. My mission now is to either find my way back to that missed exit or to keep going until I find something that makes the missed opportunities worth it. Yes, 30 years is a long time. I do know that I have many years left to fulfill the promise I saw lying ahead of me when I first held that high school diploma in my hand. Don’t get me wrong, I have seen a lot and done a lot in the last 30 years, but I feel it’s like comparing the sales of Michael Jackson’s Bad album to his Thriller album. Most musicians would kill to have an album sell like Bad, but only one in a million can sell like Thriller. Not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me.


2. I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from people. I put together four polls for my upcoming 250th podcast episode. I’m calling it Listener’s Choice because obviously, the people listening will choose what GenX nostalgia topics are on that particular show. I had people ‘liking’ the posts but not voting in the poll. How stupid is that? It takes literally the same time and effort to click one of the poll options as it does to ‘like’ it. I am grateful to the people who understood the assignment, and the podcast will be a good one. The others, though? It’s like they’re children getting mad at being asked (nicely) to do something to help out around the house. Don’t tell me to pick up my room, I’m going to make a bigger mess! Seriously, I was tempted to block everyone who liked the polls but didn’t vote, and I know because the polls show me each vote and by whom. But going back to the top, I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from people. That’s on me.

Coming soon!

3. It’s funny how a major anniversary or milestone can affect your mind. I mentioned the high school graduation anniversary. That same day was Monday Runday, which some of you might remember as the weekly meetup with my longtime friend and old classmate Mike. We run, or in my case, mostly walk, at a local track. I haven’t run much in the last few months as my left knee has decided to retire early. That changed this week. Perhaps I was inspired by the weather? No, it was the fear of being old. I decided to run more than I have in a while at the track. Now, granted, it was not much, but still good enough. Just the thought of it being 30 years since I finished high school was enough for me to need to prove to myself I wasn’t old yet. My body felt relatively good the next morning, so who knows, maybe I can slowly return to more running. Or I’ll end up crashing out the next time, and I’ll soon be walking with those Nordic walking poles.


4. My sister Ashley passed 14 years alcohol-free this week. If it sounds like a big number, that’s because it is. It was a hard road for her leading up to the choice to quit. There were times when it was really bad that some of us in the family thought the alcohol would be the end of her. But she defeated her demons and became stronger. She defeated her demons and became an inspiration to me. When my alcohol problem was out of control, I looked to her and thought if she could do it, so could I. For me, it will be 6 years without alcohol in September. There have been a few times when the alcohol nearly reentered my life, most specifically the death of my Uncle Eric. I remember that not only am I not drinking anymore for myself, but I am also doing it for Ashley because she impacted me greatly with her own battles. While I am speaking on deleting alcohol from lives, I want to mention another sister, Kate, who is rapidly approaching 300 days, and then a year, alcohol-free as well. Everyone’s journey and reason is their own, but I hope that Ashley and I helped to show her that it can be done. I am very proud of my sisters.


5. For the 3rd time in probably 6 weeks, I had a dream featuring me with a friend or family member hanging out at the mall. This time, I was with my oldest friend, Barry, just wandering the corridors and chatting. Why? Not why is Barry there. That makes sense because I haven’t seen him in a few years, and he has been a hugely important part of my life for 40 years. No, the question is why at the mall always? Am I supposed to go to the Cape Cod Mall and find some sort of answer to something? Do I miss being a semi-pro mall rat in the 1990s? Is it more about the people in these dreams and maybe needing to reach out to them more? I have no clue. Have any of you had a sort of recurring dream, or at least a recurring dream location? I have vivid dreams and lucid dreams, but they are rarely ever connected. I tend to have wild swings of plot lines of my dreams. Having hangouts at the mall come around 3 times in less than 2 months is weird. Especially specifically remembering them. I guess we’ll have to wait for the next episode of Dream Mall: The Series to find out what happens.

The mall of my dreams?

6. All it took was a few 85-degree and humid days for me to immediately begin dreaming of the fall. The irony is, it’s not even summer yet. The first day of summer is June 21st. The heat is one thing. I’m not a fan of the temperatures getting above 80, but you can cope when it’s not humid. That’s the thing that is the worst. The humidity just makes everything feel wet and soupy, which is uncomfortable during the day and just plain gross at night when you’re trying to sleep. I try to wait as long as I can to put in my air conditioner. I only have two windows where I live. Plugging one with a bulky a/c unit means that on days when the a/c isn’t needed, I don’t get any fresh air. This is another first-world problem since many people don’t even have the option of air conditioning. It is supposed to become nice and seasonable again in a few days. I’ll likely be able to hold out for a while longer but there’s only so many days when the ‘real feel’ is 100 that I can endure before the a/c goes in.


7. As luck would have it, a window fan I had for many years finally decided enough was enough. It died and left me roasting during the heat wave. I took a trip to the nearest Ocean State Job Lot to get a good, and cheap, replacement. This fan was a powerful window fan, and I was happy that it was relatively affordable at $40. I got home, and it was 85 and humid inside my apartment, so the fan was going to be a welcome addition. I put it in a window and turned it on, nothing. I was confused. I tried different outlets. I messed with the power switch. Still nothing. Now I was mad because even though the prices are pretty low at Job Lot, you still expect something to work when you get it home. I began getting the packaging together since I’d have to go back and get a replacement. I was angry and pouring sweat in the heat. Then I turned the ‘thermostat’ dial in the middle of the fan. Suddenly, both 9” fans sprang to life loudly and powerfully. It turns out the thermostat is really just an intensity dial for the fans. With it being turned all the way down, the fans wouldn’t move. Yes, I did feel pretty stupid. I will say this, though: better to feel stupid at home than to go back to Job Lot and have them find out I was returning a fan because I couldn’t figure out how to turn it on.


8. I have seen birds do some incredible stunt work when it comes to flying. The way they can change directions on a dime is pretty amazing. I see it a lot when they fly in front of vehicles, yet they can change directions to avoid getting hit. This week, I saw the ultimate in terms of bird acrobatics. I was behind an SUV when a bird came flying in from the left. I think it was a robin, or at least a bird of similar size. This bird flew in between the SUV’s driver’s side tires. You’d figure any animal that gets in between the tires of a moving vehicle is likely not going to survive. This bird not only flew between those tires, but it also managed to instantly cut a corner and fly out between the rear tires and off to safety. I have no clue how it survived. If they have a bird lottery, I hope that one went and bought a ticket because it had luck on its side. Who knows, though, maybe it used up all of its luck and immediately flew into a mailbox or something.


9. I canceled my subscription to a television show pitch website. I had written out a full treatment for a season of a show based on my experiences working in restaurants in the 1990s. I mentioned it many weeks ago in this blog. I’m not done pitching the show. I am just looking for alternatives that don’t cost me $39/mo. with no promises of any views on my work. I went and canceled the membership with a few days left on it. For some reason, a notification popped up saying that my membership would end on December 31, 1969. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, my subscription to that site somehow made its way onto Doc Brown’s DeLorean and was deposited in the past. Maybe that will be my next TV show pitch. I stumble upon a tear in the space/time continuum thanks to my subscription to some random pitch website. On a more serious note, what does that say about their website? If you cancel and it gives you a cancellation date over 50 years in the past, what other mistakes have they coded into that site? Maybe I got out just in the nick of time?

Soon to be delivering my cancellation notice.

10. Every now and then, the old me shows up in terms of exercise. I can’t run really much at all anymore. I have nagging joint pains creeping up more and more, so lifting is less fun. I do the best I can, but there are days when I feel like the best is behind me. This weekend I was feeling lazy. Oh, I spent hours writing, so I was productive, but I ate terribly for lunch and had no desire to do anything. Then the heat wave we have been having got to me. It was 85, and I was sweating. This irritated me. I decided if I was going to sweat, I could at least turn it into an exercise session. So out of nowhere, I got into workout gear and went out for a walk. Now, mind you, it was 3pm, 85 degrees, and I had eaten junk and been sitting around all day. My body survived almost 4 miles before it began to shut down. I would not be denied. I pushed through 5.3 miles, burning 715 calories, erasing the bad lunch, and coming in under my calorie limit on MyFitnessPal. It might not have been as dramatic as the Knicks 29 point comeback in Game 4 of the NBA Finals this week, but it was a nice come-from-behind win for the day. I hope that it turns into some momentum so I can start feeling like my younger self. I’d take even feeling like 42 at this point. Oh, and also congratulations to the New York Knicks on winning their first NBA championship in 53 years.

1996 Changed Everything: Pt. 4 - Love, High School Style

This is part of a series of articles about 1996, as it holds significance for me since it was the year I graduated high school. In this fourth article, I look at how a significant relationship influenced decisions whose ramifications I am still feeling to this day.

Love is a wonderful thing. Michael Bolton said so in his 1991 hit song. Hey, it ended up in the Top 5, so he must have been on to something. Before you truly know what love is and what love feels like, love can take many different forms.

It can take the form of innocent crushes on girls in your class, like I had several of during elementary school. It can take the form of infatuation and pining like I did for a girl who used to visit my neighborhood during the summers of my formative years. When you are chasing the type of secure love that your life has not given you much of, you start to settle. You start to think that maybe you should say yes to whoever comes knocking.

Looking back thirty years, I can say in all honesty that during the nearly three years I dated my high school girlfriend, I thought I loved her at some point. Using my wisdom and experience from those years that have passed, I can say that, no, I never truly loved her. At least not in the purest form. Not in the way that I would want to be loved.

We came together mostly out of convenience. She literally lived next door to me and was friends with my sister Kate. I hardly had to do any work in terms of courting her before we were together. In fact, it was Kate who bluntly stated that we both knew we liked each other and that we should just get together.

I remember on that cold winter evening in February 1996 thinking to myself: Wait, I like her? I think my reservations were overruled by the thought of actually having a girlfriend, which was something I’d been wanting for years. A girlfriend in 5th grade, or a brief connection over a summer or two, was not the real relationship I was looking for.

I decided, why not? Soon we were hanging out and getting to know each other. The time together grew, which meant that my time with my group of friends shrank. In my mind, I thought if they were really my friends, they’d be happy that I had a girlfriend. Maybe that kind of justification to myself should have been a warning sign.

I was a senior while my new girlfriend was a freshman. It was not ideal. It actually made me feel a little less-than. Sure, a freshman who dates a senior would be seen as stepping up. A senior dating a freshman? It was more of a ‘what you couldn’t find anyone in your grade?’

Her reaction to us being together was to sweetly say, ‘I can’t believe I’m with you.’ It appealed to my ego. Yeah, I am a catch, I knew it. But it was also a lot of pressure to live up to. Also, in the back of my mind, I should have read it as it was: I had settled for less than I should.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not a knock on her. She was sweet, funny, kind, and supportive. I’m looking at it from my perspective. If I felt the same way as she did, then I wouldn’t have opted against going to my Senior Prom. I couldn’t let my friends and classmates see I was dating a freshman. That’s on me, not on her. My insecurities and low self-esteem kept me from going to one of the milestone events of high school life. Maybe a few people would have cared. Looking back, I think that my group of friends, many of whom I am still in touch with today, would have been happy I was there.

I’m sure the next logical question is, why did you date her in the first place, then? Convenience, the desire to have a girlfriend, and an inability to say no. I should have said I didn’t have those same feelings. I didn’t want to be seen as the bad guy. Plus, the fact that she was so damn into me was intoxicating to a teenage boy who had not felt much love or appreciation at home for much of my childhood. I needed that validation.

Celebrating moments after my high school graduation in 1996.

The way that I viewed love and relationships as a teenager is far different from the way I view them today, as it should be. In my immature mind, it was about the fooling around every bit as much as it was the emotional connection. It was about availability over compatibility.

I know it was a me thing. Growing up, I was not taught how to give affection or express emotions. Vulnerability was weakness, at least in the presence of my first stepfather. I lost my ability to trust new people, always figuring they had an ulterior motive or were waiting for the right time to hurt me. I had done two bouts of therapy as a younger kid and probably could have used more.

For my girlfriend, I was the prize she couldn’t believe she’d won. She only wanted to be with me. I can’t speak for her, but I know that to any fully functioning adult, this would have spelled a perfect relationship. Unfortunately, I was the awful combination of an immature teenage boy and an abused child with emotional issues. I was broken, and she couldn’t fix me. She shouldn’t have had to.

An unexpected revelation about myself from this relationship was finding out just how broken I was. When senior year was still ongoing, I had structure. I couldn't spend unending amounts of time with my girlfriend, so I think things were masked. Once school was over, we spent more time together, but it was all pretty smooth. It wasn’t until my friends went off to college while I took a semester off that things started to go off the rails.

It wasn’t long until I felt I had made a mistake. Not so much in dating her, but making choices in my life based on our relationship. I had decided to take a semester off before going to college. Not only take a semester off, but also not go to, or even apply to, colleges that would have been off of Cape Cod. I still believe this to be one of the worst decisions of my life.

Despite it being more about convenience than actual feelings, my girlfriend made me feel important. We had some fun times. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being with her, but our interest levels were far apart. I wanted to give it a chance, though. If I had left for college, then that would have been it. We’d have been a quick fling to end my high school days. Perhaps it should have been.

Dating in high school is a trip. Maybe you have a car. Maybe your parents have to be your driver. Maybe you have money for dinner or some sort of activity. Maybe you can only afford to go for a walk. Maybe you hold hands and talk on the phone. Maybe you go all the way. As a teenager, the possibilities were seemingly the entire spectrum of what life could throw at you.


That semester off to end 1996 was sobering. I went from a high school senior with possibly limitless potential to a lowly dishwasher/prep cook living at home. I can remember my life becoming a routine. Work, hanging with my girlfriend, rinse repeat.

I would drive us around in my mom’s station wagon, or later, my first car, a Pontiac Grand Prix. We’d find secluded places to, well, you know. We’d hit up Taco Bell and Burger King. It was being a teenager, but doing so while my future was slowly fading off into the horizon. It’s like I was blissfully ignorant.

A 1982 Pontiac Grand Pirx, my first car.

When my girlfriend was all that was left in my social circle, I started to cling tight. Familiarity was something I desperately needed as the rest of my life was descending into chaos. My mother wasn’t happy that I was spending all my time hanging out with my girlfriend and eating fast food, going so far as to point out the weight I had gained since summer ended.

Now I needed my girlfriend to become my anchor. What started as convenience morphed into toxic desperation. I felt less-than in life. I felt weak and powerless from years of abuse and neglect at the hands of my father and first stepfather. Having a girlfriend who idolized me made me feel strong and important. I began to lean more into that.

When you start to believe your own hype, it can prove to be your downfall. I have been a mix of different issues for so long. I have an avoidant attachment style. It’s a fear of intimacy and vulnerability stemming from my childhood. I also crave the closeness and safety of a real, loving relationship. It is two opposing forces colliding.

Now, in my late 40’s, I can see this and express it. When I was 18, 19, it was all there but also wrapped up in immaturity and teenage angst. I wanted my girlfriend to be there. I’d sing songs to her, and we’d go on late-night walks through our neighborhood. Then, if I felt I was lowering the mask too much, I’d flip on a dime and become cold and callous. It had to have been incredibly frustrating and confusing for her.

I look back 30 years, and on one hand, I am embarrassed at how I ended up becoming a bad boyfriend. Instead of saying no to the initial meetup, I became drunk on the attention this girl gave me. If my life were out of control, I wouldn’t just talk to her or someone else about it. I would lash out or be cold and distant as a way to express my inner turmoil. I probably trashed her mental health and self-esteem as she wondered what she was doing wrong. In reality, I needed therapy badly. I do wonder if it would have been the same result even if I were dating my biggest crush I had back then. Maybe nobody would have been able to make it work.

Then again, I look back to 1996 and step back to see a broader view of me, my life, and my mental state. I was 18. I knew nothing of real intimate relationships. It was all new to me. I didn’t go into that relationship seeking to hurt anyone. That’s not me making excuses; it’s me going a little easier on myself because of where I was in life at the time. When you don’t have a reference point for how to cultivate a relationship, or even how to properly express yourself, you are destined for trouble.


A lot of this particular post about 1996 is me admitting my faults and trying to atone for my actions. Today I am my own harshest critic. I was not the greatest high school boyfriend. Yes, she and I lasted a little over 2 ½ years, but honestly, the relationship should have ended a year before it did. We even had a brief split, but I went back to rekindle it. I guess I was desperate for any sense of normalcy. It ended up being a big mistake. In fact, that final year of our relationship might be why I look back on its entirety with such a bitter taste.

We were never meant to be a long-term thing. Statistics show that less than 2% of high school sweethearts end up getting married. So it was a near-certainty that I’d be writing about our relationship in the past tense as of now. I don’t know what the best-case scenario was, but I do know that in a different timeline, we’d have been joined together forever. There was a brief moment, a week at most, when I was 19, where we had to wait with bated breath for her to get her period. I have no idea how my life would have looked if that scenario had happened.

When she had finally taken as much of my bipolar attitude as she could, she ended things. Ironically, I was caught off guard and desperately clung to her to not leave me. Imagine that? I had spent nearly all of our relationship wondering if I’d made a mistake, and when she finally confirms my belief, I couldn’t accept it.

Today, I am single and have been for years. I would love to have the relationship of my dreams, but something holds me back. I feel today much like I did in those final months of 1996. I want the relationship, but also want my independence. That type of thought process is fine when you’re a teen. It’s not as good when you’re nearing 50. So I look at dating sites but stay in the background. Perhaps I am worried that version of me I’ve spent this blog talking about is still in there?


To tie a bow on this subject, let me flash back to 2012. This girlfriend and I had broken up in the summer of 1998. We had not spoken or even seen each other since. I was in the middle of training for my first marathon. I was out on a long run. Once I had put in enough miles running, I stopped, shut off my running app, and prepared to walk the remaining mile or so home. Then I spotted her.

She was standing outside her car in a parking lot. We both looked at each other. She seemed hesitant. I was exhausted, basking a bit in the runner’s high. I approached her, and we began creating some small talk. As we spoke, something was weighing on me. Knowing I might not get the chance to have her in front of me again, I finally gave her the vulnerability that she was owed from me.

I told her I needed to apologize to her. She said it wasn’t necessary and seemed like she didn’t want to go there. I needed it badly, though. I told her that my life was a mess then, and I took out my anger at that on her, and she didn’t deserve that. She deserved better, and I was sorry that I treated her that way. I was literally shaking from the nervousness of truly exposing myself.

She could have told me off, but she didn’t. She accepted my apology, which made me feel better. We left things off cordially and parted ways. I remember being in tears for the rest of my walk. It was a huge weight that was lifted off my heart. Yes, I had been a bad boyfriend, but I had grown from it, recognized my mistakes, and apologized from the heart. In life, that’s all you really can do.

1996 began with me at 18, single, in my senior year of high school, counting down the days until school was out. The year ended with me at 19, in a relationship that I wanted but also didn’t want. It was at the same time fun, exciting, a bit sexy, and a lot of confusing. It was all a part of the experience of growing up.

In the next post, I will go into detail about the other important type of relationship I had in 1996: my friendships. These were the people who shaped who I was, what I liked, and some of the fun memories that still hold a special place in my heart.

Home in 1996

In My Footsteps Podcast Episode 248: Raiders of the Lost Ark, Graduating High School 30 Years Later, Most Dangerous Roads(6-10-2026)

 

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From Indiana Jones' debut, to graduating high school 30 years ago, to the most dangerous roads in America, and everything in between.

Episode 248 has something for everyone in the realm of GenX nostalgia.

It all starts 45 years ago with the release of the groundbreaking film Raiders of the Lost Ark. The debut of Indiana Jones and the beginning of one of the most beloved and profitable film franchises ever. We look at how the film came to be and why it was so successful.

30 years is a long time. This week, I celebrate (or mourn) the 30th anniversary of my high school graduation. What was intended to be a brief mention has become a full segment discussing that specific day of mine, and also what it means in a person's life to graduate from high school.

Summer travel is here, and so it is appropriate that the Top 5 this week deals with it. We are going to look at the most dangerous roads in America. Use caution if you are traveling on any of these.

There is, as always, a brand-new This Week In History and Time Capsule diving deep into the infamous prisoner escape from Alcatraz prison.

To support me and the show, become a member on Patreon. 

Or you can support my work and Buy Me A Coffee!

Helpful Links from this Episode

• Buy My New Book, In Their Footsteps!
• Searching For the Lady of the Dunes True Crime Book
• Hooked By Kiwi - Etsy.com
• DJ Williams Music
• KeeKee's Cape Cod Kitchen
• MSFTS Community
• Kingfisher Hotels Cape Cod
• Christopher Setterlund.com
• Cape Cod Living - Zazzle Store
• Subscribe on YouTube!
• Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog
• CJSetterlundPhotos on Etsy

Listen to Episode 247 here

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #123: A Classic Story, Birthdays & Graduations, Meteors, etc.

1. It sometimes shocks me to think that I have been a part of social media for 23 years. My first profile was created for Friendster in 2003. We’re closing in on half of my life chronicled online. This is all on Facebook, as nothing original from Friendster or Myspace exists anymore. I check the memories page on Facebook daily. It creates some fun snapshots of different chapters of my life. One rabbit hole that I fell down this week had to do with the last year of my Nana’s life. There wasn’t much of substance relating to her from 2009. However, a specific memory popped up this week. It involved someone hitting my parked car while I was at my Nana’s house. In short, the guy did a U-turn and rear-ended my Jeep, destroying the rear axle. This guy was a weirdo and wanted desperately to go inside and talk to my 85-year-old Nana. Why? To tell his side of the story? It’s like, dude, you hit my parked car, tell me the story, not my grandmother. Anyway, I went way down the rabbit hole of that accident story and turned it into a great blog (I think). It was the last classic story of my life while my Nana was still alive. You can read the blog here: The Final Classic Story From My Nana's Life



2. I was asked to do an author talk about my latest book for this summer at a local library. It was all set up with the date and time. Then the person who reached out to me about the event said the date they agreed to had already been taken. Funny how they offered it and agreed to it, but then went back on that. Okay fine. So I rescheduled. I filled out paperwork to use their conference room, which I’ve never had to do for any event I’ve ever done. Whatever, it was all set. This week, the same person reached out and said they needed to reschedule yet again. No reason given. So I sent in a pair of dates I could do, making this the third different set of dates for a show at this same library. I am not sure if they are incompetent. Maybe they think they can just jerk me around and I will continue to reschedule my talk, which, remind you, they reached out to me for? While I love to do these speaking events and I will be way more flexible than I probably should be, part of me wants them to not be able to accommodate my new dates so I can just tell them to take a hike. We’ll see what happens.


3. After writing the full treatment for a sitcom I am trying to get picked up, I joined a website where people post their shows in the hopes that television companies and execs will see it and possibly want to create it. I am hopeful but not holding my breath since I know that for every person like me, there are probably hundreds of others, many likely with good ideas as well. I want to make the best impression I can, so I shot a video and shared the full details of the proposed show. Any decent profile needs a photo, so obviously, I wanted to put a good face out there. That’s where the hiccups came. No matter what I did, the site kept saying there were issues with my photo. I tried several photos before finally contacting the website. I explained my issue and then also said I could send the photo to them, asking if they could just put it on my profile. Instead, they recommended changing the size, the DPI, and the file format of the photo. Each time it didn’t work, and I reiterated that it might be easier to just send them my photo. Finally, after three times of being given advice that didn’t work, they asked me to send the photo. Gee, thanks for listening. It only took a week and a handful of messages. I don’t think that I missed any opportunities in the week that my profile was up without a photo, but still, would it have taken more than five seconds to plug my photo in? It probably took 1,000 times more effort to write three emails than it would to click and post. Oh well, it’ll be worth it if the show gets picked up.


4. Despite creeping toward 50, I still enjoy playing basketball every now and then. I don’t play competitively; my body can’t handle that. I go to a nearby recreation area where there is a court that is almost always empty. I went this week to shoot around for a while. It was a perfect afternoon. Well, except for one thing. It’s pollen season. Oh boy, did that come into play. Every time I bounced the ball, a puff of yellow dust came up. I made it 15 minutes before I was getting gassed, but I pressed on. I needed to make it to at least half an hour of good cardio. By the time I hit that mark, I was pretty much choking on the pollen. I must have had a cloud of the stuff all around the court like I was Pigpen in Peanuts. My black shirt and shorts were coated in yellow like powdered sugar on a donut. That being said, it ended up being a good shoot around, and I burned over 300 calories. Not too shabby.

Me playing basketball this week.

5. I highly recommend The Burroughs on Netflix. I had been waiting for it since I saw the first trailer a little over a month ago, and it did not disappoint. Without spoiling anything, it is basically like a perfect mixture of Stranger Things and Cocoon. It centers around a retirement community that is a town in the middle of the desert. It stars several big-time actors like Alfred Molina, Bill Pullman, and Geena Davis. She is excellent, and there is a nod to Thelma & Louise in it. It is eight episodes, so an easy binge. Or you can be like me and savor it and only watch one episode per night. Even then, it only lasted a little over a week. It has been really popular on Netflix since debuting, so my hope is that it gets greenlit for a second season because there is a lot of room for more story. Go and check it out if you can.

6. A nightmare scenario almost came true this week. Since Memorial Day Weekend has passed, the beaches have gotten their porta-potties back. There is a beach I like to spend a few minutes at on my way to work most days. I took a little walk and decided to use the facilities before heading back to my car. A few steps from the porta-potty, I spotted what looked like a septic truck entering the parking lot. I figured whoever was driving saw me. Then I heard the beeping of it backing up. It dawned on me that they were there to empty the porta-potty. For a brief moment, I didn’t know what they were going to do. Bust in through the door? Strap the thing to the truck and take off with it? Even if they didn’t see me, I knew they weren’t just going to knock the porta-potty over to empty it. They’d have to open the door, which was locked. I don’t know why I felt this sense of dread while listening to the truck backing up. I stepped out and gave a wave to the driver, and everything was fine. I hope those guys get paid well. I have seen some of the most disgusting porta-potties, and knowing that people have to clean them is just nasty. So yeah, pay the septic people more, they literally deal with shit for a living.


7. This weekend, I was able to see my nephew Landon graduate from high school. It’s an interesting feeling to watch someone you’ve known since they were born taking that step into whatever the next chapter of their life is. I say this time around is interesting because next week marks 30 years since I graduated high school, so my mind has been back in those bygone days of 1996. At times, I feel like I have one foot back in my youth with the other foot trying to keep me moving forward into the future. There are times when I feel confused. How can the younger generation of family be moving on to the ‘real world’ when I feel like I haven’t firmly established myself? Luckily, I am not the only one. Everywhere I look, I find people my age expressing how they don’t feel like they’ve got being an adult down to a science. I kind of long for the days of having a textbook to follow when going through classes in school. Now all you can do is keep walking the path you’re on and hope that you’re going the right way.




8. Pontificating aside, the graduation was a fun family event. The weather was rainy and windy. It held off when we all arrived, but by the time we walked outside, the wind was kicking up, and the rain had started falling. It’s a shock to the system to be standing outside on the last weekend of May with wind chills around 40. A sunny and warm outdoor graduation would have been better, but I’m just glad I was there at all. I didn’t get to see my nephew Liam’s graduation, and my niece Emma’s graduation was during COVID. I did manage to see it from outside the fence at the high school, but it wasn’t the same. I wish we could have had a family cookout after, like we did for my oldest niece, Kaleigh, but just being with a good chunk of family was a pleasure that I don’t get nearly as often as I wish I did. We got some photos before the rain really kicked up to remember the day.


9. Staring down 50 in 18 months, I think, has made my sentimental side take over a lot in my life. I find that there are a lot of achievements, celebrations, graduations, and such that give me mixed emotions. I am happy to see and be around family, but then I end up feeling a bit empty and bittersweet. It’s not anything they do. It is the sad reality that we don’t all get together like we used to. I miss the giant holidays at my grandparents' houses. I miss big cookouts, family reunions, and hangouts just because. As we all go down the roads of our own lives, sometimes they can take us further from each other, even though we might not physically be too far apart. Jobs take up hours, and schedules don’t match. Other obligations can make it so that only when events like achievements, celebrations, and graduations come around can the family find a way to be together. It’s bittersweet because there are only so many of those types of events. If I could, I would have family get-togethers every week until we got so sick of each other that we had to pause them to recharge. Sadly, that isn’t in the cards for me currently. All I can do is check my calendar to see what the next event is that might result in another big family gathering.


10. There was a high wind warning this weekend. It was on the day of my nephew’s graduation. It really picked up in the afternoon with winds gusting 40-50mph. Despite the terrible weather, I needed to head out to the store plus to get gas. I could feel how bad the wind was while driving. It felt like my car was being pushed side to side at times. At this point, it was only in the mid 40s with wind chills dipping near freezing, at the end of May. I stopped for gas and didn’t pay attention to the wind. When I opened my door, the wind took it. The door ended up smashing into a trash can and sending it toppling over. I picked it back up, but it made the person pumping gas next to me look worried. I don’t know if she thought I was mad about gas prices and just karate kicked the garbage over. I figured I’d leave it a mystery rather than explain to her about the wind. She probably wouldn’t have believed me, or freaked out, scared, and taken off.


11. It’s not every day that a meteor comes flying into the Earth’s atmosphere. It’s even rarer when it happens only an hour from where you live. This weekend, we had a meteor rumored to be about three feet in diameter explode through the sky around Boston. The sonic booms were captured by all sorts of cameras. Apparently, the sound could be heard anywhere from Montreal to Delaware. It happened around 2:30 pm, and I was inside, so I have no clue if we could hear it. Reports said it landed in Cape Cod Bay. Not sure if anyone is going to try to find it or not. Plus, there was a rare Blue Moon that same night. So to recap, on the same day in Massachusetts, there were gale-force winds, snow, a meteor, and a blue moon. I love my home.

Radar picking up the exploding meteor(WWLP)

12. My niece Kaleigh celebrated her 27th birthday this weekend. It’s amazing how fast time can go. I fully remember my sister Kate being pregnant with her and having me drive my beat-up old Ford F-150 down the bumpiest roads we could find to try to induce labor. I have vivid memories of moving all of our stuff into a new house with my stepfather, Serpa, on the day Kaleigh was born. He and I were the last to the hospital to meet Kaleigh. I was 21 and had orange-yellow hair, an eyebrow ring, and a hemp necklace. It was the dawning of the full-on quarter-life crisis. I remember those early months being a travel trio with Kate, Kaleigh, and the numerous people who thought she was my daughter. My sister’s reaction was always priceless. I bring these memories up because, for as much as I am not a fan of getting older myself, I can deal with aches and pains and grays because I know I got to spend so much quality time with my nieces and nephews. The bittersweet feeling I tend to get around their milestones as they grow mainly comes from knowing that with each passing day, our roads grow further apart. I don’t have regrets about not spending enough time with them as kids because I actually did. In a world where I have had way too many regrets to count, the time I spent with my nieces and nephews is not one of them. I tend to get very reflective in moments like these. It was a good week for family and a good week to be reflective.

1996 Changed Everything: Pt. 3 - The Message of the Music

This is going to be a series of articles about 1996, as it holds significance for me since it was the year I graduated high school. In this second article, I look at the music of the day and how it impacted my life then and still does today.

1996 in many ways, was a tale of two halves. The first half was all about me trying to finish strong as my senior year of high school drew to a close. The second half was a recalibration. The seemingly endless grind of school had ended. Sure, there was college on the horizon, but for all intents and purposes, that was voluntary.

What I didn’t know then but know all too well now is that when you go hard for a long time, you get calloused. Your body and brain get used to the grind. Once you take your foot off the gas, it’s hard to get the motor running again, or the motivation to do so.

Looking back, it makes the second half of 1996, mostly the fall into winter, a bit of a blind spot in my life. Senior year and all of the events surrounding graduation are seared into my brain thirty years later. That final summer on Cape Cod with my closest friends before they left for college is one of my most cherished memories of my life. Until the actual days they left to start new chapters in their lives, the reality of the situation didn’t set in.

In my world, 1996 still revolved around Grunge music, although now it was a post-Grunge Alternative music world. Long gone was Nirvana as Kurt Cobain had symbolically ended Grunge with his death in April 1994. That didn’t mean that Nirvana’s music wasn’t still a huge part of me and my identity.

The teenage angst that Kurt wrote about in his lyrics only grew stronger in me as the prospect of entering a new phase of life grew closer. My interest in lyric writing, more along the lines of poetry, began early in 1996. However, it was not a Nirvana song that inspired me to jot down my innermost thoughts and feelings. No, it was a real-life event that happened at my school.

As you read in my last article, my English teacher, one of the favorites I ever had, was fired from his job for allegedly soliciting a student to appear in an adult film he was producing. When inspiration strikes, sometimes it comes from the weirdest places.

To process the events surrounding our teacher, affectionately nicknamed Bubba, I bought a steno pad and got to writing. I can clearly remember sitting in my bedroom adorned with posters of musicians and sports heroes alongside my closest friend, Barry, and working on lyrics to a song about what was still a fluid situation at the time.

Music had always made me feel. I can remember listening to Queen’s song These Are the Days of Our Lives in 1991 and getting overwhelmed by its message of looking back on life as you age. I was 14 then and had music making me think and feel beyond my years.

Writing lyrics, or poetry, to certain music made me feel more like an artist. In the first half of 1996, the inspiration came from my Grunge and Alternative roots. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Soundgarden, and others filled my brain.

It was an interesting contrast to try to write about teenage problems that were happening in the present while trying to sound like a weathered adult looking back. My initial year of writing poetry was a lot of simple, sometimes cringe-worthy, attempts at rhyming and explanations of life. College and the music I was exposed to would drastically improve my writing. Well, that and a surplus of new problems.

The music I tried to write to also served another purpose. It was a conduit for creative expression. A dream I had been trying to cultivate in the 1990s was that of being a filmmaker. I wanted to create worlds and share them. I spent around $800 of my savings in 1994 to purchase a bulky camcorder from Sears. That’s equal to just over $1,700 when adjusted for inflation to 2026.

That camcorder got used pretty much daily. By the time it kicked the bucket sometime in late 1997, I had recorded somewhere in the neighborhood of 65 hours of VHS tapes. There were skits, there were family holidays, and random, pointless moments that I captured that I cherish to this day.

The same model camcorder I owned in the 1990s

A major part of those VHS tapes is the music video. Simple, really, my friends and I set up my camcorder, played a song on a stereo, and performed it on camera. In today’s world, we’d call this low-hanging fruit for content. The videos all had a similar vibe. Teenage boys in the mid-1990s jamming out to songs they loved.

We did have our favorites. Nirvana ended up having nearly their entire catalog turned into music videos on my camcorder. It was a who’s who of Grunge, Alternative, and straight-up Rock music. Every now and then, we might switch it up and do something foolish to make ourselves laugh like Milli Vanilli, Color Me Badd, or the Brady Bunch theme. Of course, most of the videos are embarrassing to watch today, but we were kids, what do you want?

It’s a fascinating time capsule to look back at the week I graduated high school in early June 1996 and see what the music charts had to offer. Tha Crossroads by Bone Thugs-n-Harmony was #1. It was eerie as the song talks about losing a friend. Now, we were losing friends as we went our separate ways for college, not death, but still, it was fitting.

The rest of the Top 10 that week was populated by stalwarts like Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Alanis Morissette, Toni Braxton, SWV, Metallica, and George Michael.

In general, music was trending away from the Grunge-Alt movement and into more polished pop, dance, boy bands, and that song they beat into the ground, ‘Macarena.’ That song debuted right around the time I graduated and dominated the airwaves for the next year or more. I even had to do that foolish dance when at my orientation on my first day of college.

After school ended, my main connection to music came on two fronts: my job and my girlfriend.

I worked as a prep cook at a local restaurant during high school. I was lucky to have a coworker who was a friend and more like a brother at times. We were the same age within a few days, and we had similar tastes in music. What I liked a lot about Liam was that we were just different enough that he might turn me on to a different band, and if he didn’t like something, he had good explanations and not just ‘it sucks.’

I made mixtapes (yes, tapes) called Prep Boys Rock that we would play while working. It was a lot of what I’ve already mentioned, except with maybe a little more REM. We played music loudly, sometimes to the detriment of our job, but again, we were teenagers, what would you expect? Here is a Spotify playlist of some of those classics from the mixtapes.


 

There was a time our music was so loud that we couldn’t hear someone calling to us to bring something to the kitchen. That didn’t go over well with the guy who was a crusty old 60-something who didn’t have time for us crazy GenX kids. He stormed into our prep room, literally tore the radio out of the wall, and took it. We acted worried, but as soon as he left, we made fun of him for the rest of the day, and honestly, still to this day.

It wasn’t all mixtapes. Sometimes we’d get tired of the same old, and we’d listen to the radio. Now we’ll get very specific to where I grew up on Cape Cod. We had some classic stations on the air in the mid-90s, like Rock 104.7 and Pixy 103 (both rock), 96.3 the Rose, and 106 WCOD (both Top 40). But Liam and I tended to choose the stations that felt like they were speaking to us, like Underground 93.5. It was the alternative we enjoyed with up-and-coming bands we might not have heard of yet.

The other connection to music in the back half of 1996 was my girlfriend at the time. I was trying to share my world with her, and the best way I could do that was by sharing the music that made me feel alive. I turned her on to some of the alternative that shaped me. I made her introduction to alternative music mixtapes. For a teenager who didn’t know how to express vulnerable emotions well, sharing music became a love language.

She was one of the select few in my life that I sang for. I always loved to sing, and think I inherited a pretty good voice from my Grampa, who was a jazz singer. So I would put on these concerts where I’d sing a song or two like I was some sort of celebrity. Again, it was a love language to share something so few saw, or in this case, heard.

I turned her on to Stone Temple Pilots, especially. She loved Scott Weiland. In fact, we ended up going to see them in concert later on November 30, 1996. This was only a handful of shows before Weiland got busted for drugs and was eventually thrown in jail, with the tour being canceled.

Concerts were the big new shiny thing for me in 1996. Getting to travel and see bands I loved perform live was something that blew my mind. The first concert I ever attended was AC/DC on March 19, 1996, at Boston’s FleetCenter. It changed my life.

I went with my friends Dan, Pete, and James (aka Butch). It was so liberating to be on our own despite still being in high school. There might have been a little smoke in the car, but for the most part, we were responsible.

My introduction to live music began with Beavis and Butthead on the big screen, segueing into Back In Black, shattering my eardrums. AC/DC was one of the loudest live bands, and I had the proof. For the next three days, it felt like I was wearing heavy earmuffs due to how that music had slapped my ears silly. To this day, I am surprised at how good my hearing still is. I hope I didn’t jinx myself.

I mentioned at the top of this blog that the second half of 1996 has become a bit of a blind spot in my life. I had been going nonstop with school, and as Senior Year wound down, I made a choice to not go away to college. I chose to stay behind and, after taking a semester off, begin my college journey at the local Cape Cod Community College. Why? Possibly burnout, stress, confusion, and the biggest reason, my girlfriend. I will get deeper into that part in the next blog, though.

It’s interesting for me to go back to that time. I know I lived those days, and yet nothing stands out. I believe part of the reason was that as soon as I stopped grinding at school, my mind collapsed in a heap. Not having to be in a constant state of readiness swung me in the opposite direction, and I became soft and lazy. Yes, I was working, but what else?

By the time September rolled around, the vast majority of my friends were gone to their next chapters of life, some never to return. I felt like I hit pause, and once I started up again, I had to try to run to catch up.

I graduated from high school and, within a year, was slam dunked into confusion and desperation about my place in the world. I wasn’t even 20 and was in the quarter-life crisis mode. To this day, I find one of my biggest regrets in life was not going away to college immediately. That stepping off the gas pedal made it easier for me to coast. I don’t think I quite realized that I had shot myself in the foot with my choice to pause my education to bask in the glow of couple’s life.

I look back at the songs that captured my state of mind as 1996 drew to a close. The confusing new releases from Pearl Jam (No Code), Weezer (Pinkerton), and REM (New Adventures In Hi-Fi) seemed to perfectly reflect my own state of mind. The party was ending, but I had only noticed the crowds leaving once my voice was the one left echoing across an empty room.

Music would ease my mind, and it would also influence my writing as I tried to put into words changes I didn’t fully understand. Life was changing faster than I was ready for. January 1996 saw me as a high school student getting ready for the real world. In December 1996, I was in the real world, standing at the starting line and watching it disappear onto the horizon, all while familiar bands played the soundtrack.

The seemingly infinite horizon can be liberating and terrifying all at once.