1996 Changed Everything: Pt. 5 - We'll Meet Again Old Friend

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. This fifth article is all about the friends we make, the friends we lose, and the friends we keep.

Thirty years ago I walked across a stage, strutting like pro wrestling icon Ric Flair, grabbed my diploma, and began the slow walk from childhood to manhood. My sister Kate recorded much of that graduation ceremony on my old Sears camcorder. I cherish every second of it.

Even today, as the young faces pass by the camera on that tape, I remember so many of them like they are frozen in time. I feel as though those people who held the greatest importance in my life back then still do today.

The classic 1986 film Stand By Me has an iconic quote at the end that sticks with me to this day. Richard Dreyfuss as Gordie types: "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12. Jesus, does anyone?"

I wasn’t twelve when I graduated high school, but that line perfectly encapsulates how I feel about the friends I had back then. I’ve never had any like them since.

We were all learning and experiencing life for the first time together. We were succeeding, failing, laughing, loving, achieving, hurting, rebelling, being overwhelmed, and clinging on to each other as we rose and fell with the waves of teenage life. Those friends I made were not just friends; they were lifelong brothers and sisters.

When looking back at the people I called my friends as I graduated high school, I don’t look at a strict timeline. Many of those I’d have taken a bullet for I had already known for years by the time of caps and gowns. It was as if I already knew I’d found my tribe.

Doing some work in photography class.

Making friends is hard at any point in life. As an adult, it can feel like you’re applying for a job. As a kid, you’re putting yourself out there hoping that a stranger finds you worth getting to know better.

Being as shy and introverted as I was during my childhood, it’s a wonder I made any friends at all. Without luck, I’d have had to wait for a kickball to roll my way and use that as the opening to befriend whoever retrieved it.

My two oldest friends, Barry and Matt, came into my life through luck. Matt grew up across the street from me, and Barry happened to live a few doors down from my aunt. I’d go and visit her and invariably end up with Barry. I met both of them around the age of seven. Barry ended up being one of the most important and influential people in my life.

It’s interesting, as I sit here mining for memories going back 40 years, how I can’t remember those first meetings with people who went on to become chosen family. Oh sure, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version of when someone crossed paths with me. I can share some early memories. However, the first meeting is a blur in virtually all of these cases. I guess you don’t realize that someone has become an integral part of your life until a certain amount of time has passed.

Hasan lived a few streets over from me. I know we bumped into each other during the summer before 6th grade. We built a bond like steel. He came from the city to Cape Cod and taught me about late 80’s/early 90s Hip-Hop. We played basketball. Rarely was it one-on-one because he’d crush me every time. So we’d do these two-against-zero games against opponents we called the ‘invisible ghosts.’

Tim lived further away, but our origin story is similar, revolving around a shared love of basketball. I remember sleepovers at his house often being punctuated by freshly made donuts the next morning by his parents. It was the Jerky Boys, walks through the woods to get to a nearby strip mall, and countless hours of me trying to figure out how to defend his patented ‘Fishy Swim’ fallaway jumper.

John I had seen around in middle school, but only when we sat next to each other in Freshman English did we connect. It was our just slightly wacky sense of humor that made us friends. I wish I still had my English notebook where we’d one-up each other with foolish lines and drawings, rarely paying attention to what the teacher said. To be honest, I would have had an easier time hearing an ant speak than that teacher, though.

Rob, much like Matt, happened to live close by. Our families were heavily intertwined, but it was only when I entered high school and bought a camcorder that we truly connected. He and I were the typical feral Gen Xers. Out all day on our bikes, going places we’d probably have needed permission to go, junk food, caffeine, crazy ideas, and laughs that brought tears.

Liam was another stroke of luck. We happened to work at the same job at the same time. Standing side by side with him, preparing food while music blasted loudly off the walls, ended up becoming some of my fondest memories of high school. Some funny lines we said back then we still bring up to this day.

There was a massive influx of new friends when I got to high school. My high school saw two neighboring towns’ middle schools combine into one blended family. It was an interesting transition. I played for the basketball team in middle school. A few of the new faces in the halls of the high school were once rivals on the other middle school team. It took a minute to realize we were all on the same team now.

New faces like Steve, Greg, Mike, Kevin, Pete, and others quickly went from strangers to major parts of my crew. Our interactions varied depending on the person. Greg, Mike, and Kevin became frequent subjects of photos during senior year.

An attempt at an artsy photo of those three.

I was taking a photography class and had to practice using a film camera. Those three would pose, or something like that, in the middle of classes. It was my job to hit up the darkroom and develop the foolishness that we created. To this day, Mike insists he wasn’t in any of those photos. The joke is on him, though. He has aged very well, so he looks almost the same today.

During high school, I was at the mercy of my bike, walking, or occasional rides to hang out with friends. I didn’t get my driver’s license until senior year, and even then I had infrequent access to a vehicle, what with me being one of five kids and having a mother working full-time and going to nursing school full-time.

It was a different era in the 1990s. You didn’t sit inside on a phone, playing video games, or watching television. Well, sure, we did all of those things to a degree, but for the most part life consisted of calling friends, quickly getting off the phone, and getting out of the house to have some sort of an adventure.

You quickly learn who your ‘ride or die’ friends are based on the level of stupidity they were willing to join you on. Wandering through the woods? Sneaking into a construction site to explore half-built houses? Hanging out of the back of a station wagon riding a skateboard? Drinking Jolt and creating caffeine-soaked skits with a bulky camcorder? These were only a few examples of what I’m talking about.

Yes, we drove something like this while someone rode a skateboard out of the back.

A classic ride-or-die story happened freshman year. Hasan and I went to a party at another friend’s house. It was in the next town over; we must have been dropped off there. It was populated by probably 8-10 more kids, but it was over thirty years ago, so my memory is hazy. What’s not hazy is how the party ended.

I am sure we were loud. I think there was at least some alcohol there, but I don’t think Hasan and I had more than a few sips at most. It was when the red and blue lights started flashing that we knew the jig was up. The police were there.

All of us 15/16 year old kids scattered. People were going in all different directions. Hasan and I though stuck together. One wouldn’t leave the other. We ran through yards, behind houses, tearing through trees and bushes until we were safely behind a nearby strip mall. It was part terrifying and part exhilarating.

At the strip mall, I called my mother to come and pick us up. We stood in front of a darkened store and waited, letting our heart rates come down. The fact that we hadn’t drunk worked in our favor. When my mother showed up, we didn’t reek of alcohol, so when we told her the story of what had happened, it was believable.

I feel like growing up in the 90s, I had a lot of near misses when it came to danger. I don’t think I’d have gotten in much trouble if the police had snagged me, but who knows? Being a minor, I knew I could do nearly anything I wanted with little repercussions.

That doesn’t mean that I went out defacing people’s property, or starting fights, or stealing. It just meant that the voice in my head telling me something was dangerous kept quiet a lot of the time. Maybe it wanted to see how I’d react to adversity?

I find it interesting that I didn’t go out drinking, or smoking, or partying until all hours of the night, and yet I feel my high school years were filled with adventure. That comes down to who my friend group was.

What the ‘cool kids’ would have thought of as adventures I saw as dangers not worth the time or risk. Now I can’t say for sure that if I was asked to go out drinking and partying and randomly hooking up that I would have said no. I can say that, looking back at the classmates who got DUI’s before they were of legal age and those who held their own children before holding a diploma, I am happy with my choices in friends and adventures.

I chose wisely when it came to friends. I also didn’t restrict myself to any certain subset of people. Only in the last few years have I noticed just how all-encompassing my friend groups were. Yes, I said ‘groups.’

I can rattle off a handful of different groups of friends. These had very little, if any, cross-pollination with other groups. I tried to be friends with anybody who wanted to be friends. It’s the way I was raised by my mother. I tried to fit in with anyone while also staying true to who I was.

Being seen as a poser is a kiss of death in any generation. If you lose your authenticity, you lose credibility. At least that’s how it was in high school. The way I navigated those waters was by amplifying traits around certain groups. I never hid who I fully was; I just shined a brighter light on the things I had in common with the people I was with at the time. Does that make sense?

I must have done a good job in my choices of friends because, as I said earlier, I still consider many of those same people my friends to this day. There are also no friends, not acquaintances but friends, that I regret knowing or having in my life. I think it’s rare to look at your friend group and not find someone who turned out to be a bad apple. I mean, unless we all were bad apples and none of us noticed the difference?

Friendships in high school changed and evolved along with all of us. You start with needing rides to someone's house to using your bike or your own car. Adventures go from walking to the corner store on a summer afternoon to driving to Boston for a killer, loud, AC/DC concert. Relationships could come and go, but friendships tended to stay.

A replica of my concert T since I have no clue where it is.

In my life today, I have more than a handful of friends of over thirty years. Now we don’t get to see each other all of the time due to work, family commitments, and location. That being said, if a friend reaches out to get together, I try my best to move whatever I need to see them.

I still remember inside jokes. I still remember certain foods certain friends liked. I still remember who was in what class. Mainly, I still remember how these people made me feel and why they became my friends in the first place. I think that is the most important thing.

Over time, specific memories might fade. That’s just the price of doing business in life. Feelings remain, though. If I hear any of a few dozen names from high school, whether they are still fixtures in my life or not, I get a smile and a blast of warm positive feelings.

We were all teenagers. We all went through the experience of finding ourselves in the world. If we are lucky, we have a solid crew of friends to navigate the choppy waters with. Very few grow up on one straight, clear path. It’s typically filled with twists, turns, dead ends, heartbreak, confusion, anger, and possibly, if a Gen Xer, indifference.

To wrap things up, I found one song that stuck out to me as far as my high school friendships went. Not surprisingly, it is a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. They were a band that made you cool if you listened to them, along with the Beastie Boys. At least it was in my circles.

The song is My Friends off of their less-than-stellar One Hot Minute album from 1995. The entire song weighs heavily on my memories of high school. The hook, I guess, is the lyrics I gravitated toward.

I love all of you
Hurt by the cold
So hard and lonely, too
When you don't know yourself




It’s a perfectly fitting sentiment. We were growing up, trying to find ourselves, but also knew that even as alone as you might have felt at times, if you were lucky, you had some friends to stand by you through those formative years.

In my next post, I will take a look at my family dynamic during senior year and a look at the role of family in the life of any high schooler. All families are created differently, as was mine.

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. 

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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.