Friday, August 10, 2007

Aw Man, I'm Gonna Miss "Stairway To Heaven!"

(this photo looks better full size - just click on it for a better view!)
This post is brought to you by the Barenaked Ladies' "Grade 9." However, I'm using it to refer to grade 8 - it didn't matter what grade you were in; "Stairway to Heaven" was always the last song. Frankly, I grew to loathe that song because of school dances. I'm just now starting to come around again. That's almost two decades of trauma. What can I say about junior high? Not much, really. The hardest class I ever took (and I'm including college and grad school) was my 8th grade science class, Investigating the Earth, with Mr. Bouley. He would give us these crazy labs where we would have to study erosion in a sand table and then he'd tell us, "I came up with 214 conclusions; I'd like you to come up with 156." However, the hard labs always gave me a good reason to call my friends, and even occasionally, the boy I had a crush on. The reason I am bringing any of this up at all is because I came across a bag full of notes from junior high - notes my friends passed me during class, after school, even mailed. Some are just a few sentences - others seem like endless missives about who knows what. And 95% of them are folded up into little triangles that I'm too scared to open because I'm not sure my 30-year-old fingers are nimble enough to refold them. I'm trying to junk some of my old stuff, but am having a difficult time throwing out old letters. I'm awfully sentimental. So, to possibly help the process along, I thought I would photograph the notes in their natural habitat. My thinking is, if I document them photographically, maybe it will be easier to put them in the trash. What do you think? Should I keep them or throw them away?

Instead of starting a new post, I am just going to add on to this one. Here are other things I've found, photographed, and now, thrown away...

What you're looking at right here is my "behavior card" from 4th grade. My teacher was Mrs. Nagle (she replaced my original teacher, Mr. Brush, who had cancer - that was a hard lesson for a 10 yr old). Anyway, she instituted this practice to reward good behavior. If you got your name written on your card, you did not get a treat that day. If, after a week, no one in the class had their names written on their cards, we got a party. Always educational, but a party nonetheless.

This is obviously police tape. What you can't tell from looking at it is that it's from when my friend Alison and I went to see Luke Perry and Ian Ziering at the Cambridgeside Galleria. We battled many screaming girls to try to get a good look (which we never did). The police tape made a quick and easy souvenir.

This is a giant Spaghettios can that dates back to when I was 15 and we moved into our new house. My parents let my friend Laura and I spend the night in the house before we actually moved in. We had this lovely food for dinner, but no can opener. So, we accomplished this with some sort of knife, and in the end, it sort of looked like art, so I kept it around as a sculpture. Like all other things, it eventually found its way into a box in the attic...

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