The Mystery

July 2026

Recently, my wife and I attended our 45th class reunion. Although I sort of dreaded the thought of it, I brushed aside my anxiety and fully participated. We had the chance to celebrate and reminisce with old friends as well as talk with people we barely remembered, if at all. We had a 400ish person graduating class, so it was impossible to know everyone. We also toured our old school, which might have been the coolest part. For me, it revived lots of memories that haven't surfaced in a long time. It also made me think a great deal about the past and the wonders and mysteries of growing up. 

So today, I am pondering my youth, and some of the truly formative moments that occurred during that stage of my life. Not monumental happenings, but small things.  The numerous seemingly inconsequential events we all experience that in some way end up shaping who we are. Now, I believe thinking back can be healthy.  It’s important to occasionally recall the building blocks of our personalities. If only for humility’s sake. 

Top of mind for today is a Friday evening ritual that occurred during my junior high school years. For me that was 7th through 9th grade when I was between thirteen and fifteen years old. For context, it was probably 1975.  So, as of this writing, greater than fifty years have passed.  Yet I still seem to recall that time of my life like it was yesterday.

For some, this ritual I am reminiscing about was the highlight of the week. For others these events represented the climax of the school year.  For it was at a time when we, as young teens, were attempting to grow up, while already thinking that we were.  These events always started with a nervous Friday evening walk back to school, at a time when the school was empty. Except for the gym, because on that night, there was a dance.

These dances didn’t happen every Friday at my school, but at least once a month during the school year. And we looked forward to them.  At least some of us did. Others dreaded it, but they went anyway.  Either out of peer pressure or just from the fear of missing out. Yes, there was even FOMO back then! My group, usually about five of us, always seemed to get there early. Mingling outside before the doors opened was half the fun!  Giggling and horsing around like the kids that we were.  The boys were always in groups of groups, and the girls in smaller groups of their own. It was a cliquey time of life. I suppose for kids that age it still is.

At some point, the doors would finally open, and we would all scramble to get inside.  The school always seemed eerie, as dusky darkness had already fallen. It was 7:00pm in the fall or winter. We would all shuffle to the gym, where it was usually bright, but the lights were dimmed for these occasions. As we entered, there were usually kids struggling to finish up decorating. And it was always those same kids, the ones that seemed to be “involved”, and volunteered for everything. The cool kids.  Which was certainly not how I would describe my friends or me during this period.

There never seemed to be any music, at least at first. Someone always had to work to get the archaic sound system to function. When the music finally did begin, it sprang from records, which was all there was during this time in history. Both 45’s and LPs.  Many kids brought the ones they cherished. Of course, there was no DJ, so random people would just go up and put on a song they liked from the records they had brought. The music was always too loud, and with the poorest sound quality imaginable.  It was a PA system in a junior high school gymnasium after all.  Each song had the characteristic crackle of records that had been played many times and not properly cared for.  Most had skips and jumps in them.  But it didn’t matter.

I knew everyone in attendance and had known them for what seemed like forever. We were all from the same neighborhood.  That’s how schools were back then.  Regardless, I always stood with my closest friends against a wall of folded up bleachers. Waiting for who knows what and looking like we were nowhere we wanted to be. Each wished secretly to find the courage to get out on the floor and dance.  That was a place and an activity we had only risked a few times before.  Generally, when forced to do so.  Some had never been out there.  Some never would be. Regardless, we all waited. Grudgingly admiring and loathing the courage of those out there for every song. Fast or slow.  And there were a few of those. But not us.

And then one Friday it happened.  Perhaps out of desperation, or the song was just right. Maybe it was Barry Manilow belting I Write the Songs. Or that dude that sang Feelings, whoever he was.   Maybe it was Guitar Man by Bread or Lady by Styx.  I don’t recall.  It was certainly a slow song, and one that inspired me.  Whatever it was, it produced the courage I had lacked and helped overcome the fear that had formerly paralyzed me. A fright that controlled not just me, but all of my friends and many, many other dudes at this dance and every dance throughout history.  The anxious feeling that kept your legs from moving and made a desert out of your mouth. Yet somehow, someway, on this evening, I was able to make my move.

From across the room, I made a beeline for, well, let's just call her Debbie P. for the sake of anonymity. She was my target. I am not even really sure why.  Other than that, she was pretty, in a plain sort of way, and I had known her essentially for my whole life.  And I was pretty sure she wouldn't say no. I can’t even remember if I asked her to dance, or if it just seemed to happen as I walked up to her. All I can recollect is the tingle of excitement I felt when she held my hand as I walked with her to the dance floor. I don’t even recall breathing.  And then it began. The dance!

I seemed to have had a thousand thoughts all at once. I was in brand new territory that was for sure.  As I recall, my biggest worry was concerning what might pop up, being so close to someone of the opposite sex. And I don’t mean in casual conversation!  My chest was essentially right next to her teenage breasts after all. I fretted about an occurrence that can happen almost spontaneously when you are a fourteen-year-old boy! And that would have been utterly humiliating!

Of course I had other worries.  I wondered about my breath. If she would feel the sweat that was dripping down my back. The possibility of stepping on her feet.  What might be hanging from my nose. Was my zipper closed? Why are those guys pointing at us?  I recall smelling her hair and hoping that it was an ok thing to do.  Yes, I had known this girl since kindergarten and liked her, but it had never felt like this!

And then, more rapidly than imaginable, with the final notes of the song, it ended. The fastest three minutes in history. Brief, but transformative.  Quickly, we both turned and went back to separate sides of the gym. From whence we came. And I was forever changed. I’m not certain she even cared, but maybe so. I like to think it meant something to her too.  As I went back to the bleachers, I was greeted with chiding remarks from my friends.  Those that had stayed anchored to the wall.  I barely heard them.  I didn’t care.  I had scored and I was basking in the glory of the moment. I hadn't even gotten to first base but at least I had gotten in the batter's box.

And then, much sooner than I liked, this dance was over.  The music stopped and the lights came on. It was back to being kids again. We all lumbered back to the door we had entered just several hours earlier. But this time, on this evening, I walked home beaming with pride and with thoughts of what could have been, or what might someday be. I really wasn’t sure what “it” was, but I knew it felt good. 

One thing I did know for sure, I felt different. I had taken a step into the unknown.  I overcame paralyzing fear and summoned courage that I didn’t know I even had. I also felt confident that I could find that courage again if I needed it.  I had truly changed! The mystery wasn’t solved, but it was just a little less mysterious! I had found another piece to the jigsaw puzzle of my life. One that even now, makes me who I am.  A guy that is still trying to figure things out!