Junior Yearbook Signings

The practice of signing yearbooks began with 17th-century scrapbook-style books on the East Coast where students would collect signatures and mementos from their peers. This tradition continued into the 1800s and the late 19th century as formal yearbooks became more common, evolving from simple logbooks to include student portraits with the advent of photography. 

Some yearbooks are distributed in the fall so it can include pictures from events like graduation, prom, and spring sports. I recall getting our yearbooks in the fall. So, as I recall, I didn't receive messages like "Have a great summer" since summer would have been months away. Some schools do have spring yearbook distribution, so students receive it the same year as that school year. Nevertheless, I recall a fall distribution of yearbooks. 

Yearbook Notes and Messages

Notes from my peers in my yearbook received fall of my junior year.

Hey there,

I hope you have a great year and a great wrestling season. I could fill every page of this yearbook describing how much you mean to me and how amazing you are. Just kidding. Although you broke my heart, it has mended. In fact, my new boyfriend is way better than you! Ha ha! We did have something special though for a while. I'll never forget the year we spent together as a couple! Take care. 

Love, K

* * *

Hey Rambo,

Ran from any cops lately? That was fun when we crawled through the barbed wire fence to escape the trooper that night at the stone bridge. Most of that keg went to waste but at least we made our getaway. Have a great year, man! - R

* * *

Hey Tough Guy,

We'll have to hit some teen dances at Matter's Ballroom or meet some more girls at the Heidelberg. Sometimes I miss our days of making blanket forts and walking to the movies. But we had to grow up sometime. I'm sure you'll kick butt in wrestling again this year. Even if you don't qualify for State, we're going to Des Moines regardless! Take care, buddy! - C

* * *

Hey Darling,

After seeing you out running this summer, I just know you're going to be the most dedicated wrestler on the team. I have so many things I could write but I'm not sure how to express the feelings I have for you. Regardless of how things turned out for us I hope you know you'll always be special to me. Have a great year! Love, M

* * *

Hey Cutie,

Thanks for always saying "hi" or having a smile for me. I remember sitting next to you on the bus for a few years. That bus got wild sometimes. I suppose I'll see you and Brad at a few parties this year. I hope so! I think you should give us Postville girls a little more attention than those redheads from Waukon! Ha ha! I know people like to say, "Never change." But you can't wear that Members Only jacket and sport a bi-level haircut forever you know. I know why you like the bi-level. Because it suggests, "Business in the front, party in the back." Ha ha! Have a great year. Love, A

* * *

Hey there,

I was surprised when you asked me to sign this. Here goes. I think you are the most handsome boy in the entire school. Psych! Just kidding! Did you actually buy that? You are good looking though and stylish. I'm not sure we've ever had a conversation since I moved here. I don't bite, dude. Say "hi" sometime. I have seen you at parties and dances though. You even bummed a cigarette off me that one night! Trying to impress that redhead, eh? Well, we've still got two years to get to know each other. I have a feeling that under your quiet demeanor is a party animal waiting to break loose! Take care. Rock on! - M

* * *

Wild Man,

I hate high school but we're getting close to the end now. Now we get to boss the underclassmen around. No more taking crap! When I get a pickup truck, we'll load up a cooler of beer and go cruise for chicks. Of course, my heart belongs to Daisy Duke, but for now high school chicks will do just fine. Take it easy! - R 

* * *

Hey Tyrone,

We'll have to take a college day in CR and meet up with Darren. Before that we have to party! We'll cruise to a party at the bridge in my Monte Carlo with George Thorogood blasting from the car stereo. Bad to the bone! I know you like Madonna and all that synth pop stuff. But not in my car! Only AC/DC, Kiss, Nazareth, Def Leppard, and other hard rock! Maybe after some late-night partying, Sheila will make us breakfast again. Pancakes! Prom this year! I hope we can find dates! Have fun in the sun, get laid in the shade.
Have a great year, buddy! - B

* * *

Hey Superfly,

Underneath that quiet veneer lurks a real badass. I've seen it! I remember that day in gym class when you went flying through the air to deliver a blow to someone who ticked you off. You sure went flying. Hence, the nickname Superfly. I'm not talking about the movie Super Fly from 1972. I'm talking about the pro wrestler Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka. We'll have to take a cruise in my car Ethel along the Mississippi to Prairie du Chien and see what kind of mischief we can get into. We'll bring Brad along to keep us laughing. We should go to Ginger's sometime for burgers and shakes like we did during semester tests when we were freshman. Have a great year! - J 

* * *

Hey Man, 

I've enjoyed watching you do your thing on the mat. I watched my brother cut weight for four years. You wrestlers are crazy, but I appreciate your dedication. Stay away from Brad. He's a bad influence! Just kidding. We should all take a road trip and drink a few beers. Then about 2 AM we'll have Brad fry us up about six eggs! Ha ha! Good luck with that redhead. Readhead, redhead, fire in the woodshed! Have a great year! - T 

* * *

Hey Taiwan, 

I enjoy seeing you at church and our times in youth group. But remember it's okay to let loose sometimes too! Have a beer once in a while for crying out loud! You only live once! Stay the sweet guy you are. Love, K 

* * *

Hey Smurf,

When I moved here in seventh grade you were my first boyfriend. I guess we bonded over the Dallas Cowboys and, of course, my beauty. You really blew it by letting me slip away, pal! Ha ha! It's never too late though. You could come over some night when my parents aren't around and we could go to my bedroom and see what happens. We could have a wrestling match of our own, if you know what I mean. Ha ha! Just kidding. I'm a minister's daughter for crying out loud! I hope you have great season! But before you start officially training, we should have a beer sometime. Save me dance at the Sweetheart Dance. Take care. Love, H

* * * 

Hey there,

It seems like only yesterday we were in elementary school passing love notes, roller skating, and listening to the Bay City Rollers and Captain & Tennille. You were my first boyfriend. I'll never forget you! 2 Good 2 Be 4 Gotten. - P 

* * *

Hey there,

I'll never forgive you for turning down my Homecoming invite last year. We could have had fun! I miss the old days when you were almost always my skating partner in the couple skates. Although there was that time you turned me down to look cool in front of all the guys, and I was humiliated. Thanks a lot! Did you notice where I'm signing this yearbook? I'm signing it right next to your crack! Ha ha! Get it? The crack of the book. Now that's funny. Well, I suppose I'll have to forgive you for Homecoming. Take care. - R 

* * *

Hey Babe,

I've seen how easily you've gotten over the junior high crush you had on me. I've seen that redhead and she's not the first girl I've seen you get friendly with since junior high. I hope you're carrying protection at all times, and I don't mean a gun buddy. Ha ha! I wish you hadn't quit FFA. We miss you. But we sure had fun at the National FFA Convention in Kansas City a couple years ago. By the way, I know you guys bought a girlie magazine at that convenience store near our motel. Horn dogs! If I become filthy rich after high school, you and the rest of the class will never hear from me again because I'll move to Beverly Hills. F--- you guys! Just kidding. Remember ASS. No, not my ass! ASS (Always Stay Sweet). Take care, babe. - A 

* * *

Min kjære,

Du er en søt og snill ung mann. Du er også veldig kjekk, og det er derfor damene elsker deg. Jeg ønsker deg alt godt i dine fremtidige bestrebelser.*

You'll have to find someone who can read Norwegian to translate this for you! Take care and best wishes. Love, Lil

* * *

Hey there,

I know we don't really talk much but you've always been a nice guy. I guess we don't share a lot of memories either because we don't really hang out. But you are a sweet and funny guy who I enjoy seeing at school and the occasional party. Maybe your buddy Brad will serenade me again in the lobby someday. "You are so beautiful to me..." Joe Cocker, right? He sure makes me laugh. Have a great year! - S

* * *

Sweetheart,

Am I allowed to write in the yearbook of a school I don't attend? I guess so. Thanks for asking me to sign. I guess it's a good thing we both attended that church lock-in last year otherwise I wouldn't have met you. I really wasn't sure you'd show up for our first date but we're still together a year later. I love hanging out in the basement watching Friday Night Videos with you and "talking" in your car at parks and the fairgrounds. The cops have only told us to move on twice. Ha ha. Do some of the boys still call you Virgin Killer? I like it when you drive your parents' Bonneville. Your Bobcat is okay but then I can't sit beside you and it only has AM radio. But when we fold down the seats in the back things get interesting! I'm impressed with how well you drive a stick. I guess I could make some sexual joke about your stick, but I'll keep things rated G for now! Take it easy on our guy during wrestling season. I'm dating the enemy, I guess. I'm so glad I met you. I wish I could see you more often. Like the Chicago song says, "You're a hard habit to break." "Let's Hear It for the Boy" by Deniece Williams always make me think of you. Let's make it a great year and grow even closer. I love you. - J 

* * *

Footnotes

* Approximate Norwegian to English translation

My Darling, 

You are a sweet and kind young man. You are also very handsome which is why the ladies adore you. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors.                                                                 

Somewhere in General Hospital: C54

When I was discharged from the inpatient eating disorders unit in December of '97, I was escorted by a nurse to the extreme north end of the hospital to an area called Boyd Tower. I was going to be boarding there while attending a day treatment program in the Psychiatric Partial Hospital (PPH). The Partial Hospitalization Program was housed in an area on the 5th floor of the old General Hospital. 

Don't let the name Boyd Tower fool you. The name might conjure up images of a fancy place with upscale apartments. But Boyd Tower was originally known as the North Tower addition and had been built in front of the old gothic looking General Hospital. So, my room in Boyd Tower was simply an old hospital room. I liked it though. I had everything I needed. I had a bed, nightstand, shower, and even a TV. I had a roommate but sometimes we kept the curtain drawn between us for a bit of privacy. My room was on 5 Boyd Tower (5BT). So, to attend Partial Hospital each day I only had to walk down a couple of hallways seeing as Partial was also on the 5th floor in the General Hospital. 

Boyd Tower was built in such a way that one can still see the facade (front) of the old General Hospital when inside Boyd. I found it intriguing to see the old facade when passing from Boyd into the General Hospital. The gothic tower entrance was preserved. 

Years later, when I had to return to Partial Hospital again, the dietitian told us that a dragon could be found in the hospital, and she could prove it. I'm not sure how the dragon discussion came up, but we set out to see this dragon. She escorted our group up to 7BT and we did indeed see a dragon built into the facade of the old hospital. I have since wondered what the dragon represents. Surely the dragon is symbolic, perhaps representing wisdom, knowledge, strength, supernatural power, and protection. 

* * *

While living on Boyd I had a lot more freedom than I did living on a locked psychiatric unit. I could come and go as I pleased. I don't recall having a curfew although I assume a staff of some sort was around. On the weekends I received a voucher for each meal which I could use at the cafeteria located on the first floor which I believe was in the General Hospital near Elevator C. The Fountain Lobby next to the cafeteria was still the main entrance at the time and the Volunteer Gift Shop was tucked away in one corner. 

Interestingly, my eating disorder recovery journey began in General Hospital. When I arrived, they didn't have a bed available on the eating disorders unit, so I was placed in the Medical Psychiatry (Med/Psych) Unit on 4th floor (4SE) in General Hospital. Eventually, the Med/Psych Unit was moved so it was closer to the psychiatric units in the new part of the hospital. I think I only spent one evening on Med/Psych before being taken to 2JPE in the new part of the hospital. So, I was basically about as far from the eating disorders unit as I could have been. On the day I was transferred someone pushed me in a wheelchair from one end of the hospital to the other. I wasn't allowed to walk. 

I believe the eating disorders unit located on 2JPE was only three years old when I arrived. That is to say the Pavillion containing 2JPE was only three years old. The rooms were nice. The so-called dayroom was nice even with its vinyl/Naugahyde furniture. Everything was carpeted except the bathrooms and the dining room. The unit didn't feel as antiquated, grim, clinical, cold, and sterile as 4SE. 

* * *

My first roommate in Boyd Tower was also attending Partial. But he was on the so-called mood track while I was on the EDO track. I think there was also a track for individuals with neurological disorders. I believe that all three groups sometimes met together for group therapy. 

My roommate was a bit of a Lothario. He was a womanizer. He asked me which girl I liked best from Partial. I think I might have said Lisa because she was petite at only 5 feet tall. I think he mentioned a girl named Diane who liked to work out. He also flirted a bit with Stephanie in the lunch line one day who had gotten her hair cut. 

"Doesn't Stephanie look nice with her new hairdo?" he asked in her presence. 

"Yes, she looks very nice," I agreed.

I overheard Stephanie tell another girl in Partial that she was attracted to him, but she had a boyfriend. 

A girl from the mood track paid our room in Boyd a visit one evening after dinner. She came to see my roommate. I was half asleep in my bed and she slipped behind the drawn curtain to talk to him. 

While in my drowsy state, I became aware of some hushed tones and commotion on the other side of the curtain. Even in my somnolent state, I realized they were having sex. I felt too tired to get up and leave the room. And I figured they'd made the decision to fornicate with only a curtain separating us and I had no obligation to leave. So, I remained.

"Well, wow. I've never had this happen before," I heard him remark regarding having just had sex in a hospital room with a young woman he barely knew. 

He must have asked her if she climaxed because I heard her say, "No, I never do."

And then she was gone. I didn't look at her and pretended to still be asleep. I don't think he and I discussed the episode either. Another evening, Diane was sitting in our room talking to my roommate. Yes, Diane his dream girl. I left the room and went down to the gift shop for a bit. When I returned, she was gone. I don't think they had sex. She had a boyfriend. Plus, she didn't seem like a girl who would "get it on" in a hospital room. I don't recall if Stephanie ever paid us a visit. 

* * *

Ryan, my roommate from 2JPE was with us in Partial. He was living in a residential care facility while going to Partial which was tough for a teenager. He was hot for a teenage girl named Rachel from Montana who had also transitioned to Partial with us. They had a scheme/plan to find where the official green scrubs worn by doctors were stored and steal some as a souvenir. I don't recall if that ever happened. I nicked a couple pairs of light blue hospital pajama bottoms to bring home with me. 

Ryan began attending high school in Iowa even though he was from Idaho. He made some friends and even a girlfriend. He planned an outing to a school sporting event with this girl and some friends one evening. The therapists were concerned about his plan to go out and be responsible for his own meal that evening. The group was planning on going to Burger King. The therapists finally acquiesced. I think the evening went okay and he reported that he tried to be "normal" and eat a burger and fries like any average teen might do. 

* * *

At some point after the holiday season, the people boarding on Boyd Tower were moved to a unit just down the hall in the General Hospital called C54. The moniker C54 sounds like the provisional name of a newly discovered planet not yet given a proper name. Or perhaps C54 sounds like the designation given to some void or wastelands or other uninhabited area. Stay out of zone C54! I have a theory that C stands for centrally located and 54 merely indicates that it's located on the fifth floor. 

I think 5BT was being converted into a chemical dependency treatment area. I was a bit upset having to leave Boyd. But C54 was fine.  The rooms seemed a bit older. A staff member was always around at the nurses' station. I remember a male nurse or aide who wore glasses who seemed nice. I was sick one weekend and he noticed I hadn't been using my meal vouchers. He scolded me for not eating and said I should at least have a can of 7-Up or something. 

What if something paranormal had happened? After all I was moving to a ward in the old General Hospital which had a gothic tower at its entrance. You've heard of gothic literature, right?

When I walk onto C54 I feel an eerie chill. I feel a draft of air though I'm not near an open window. The lights flicker. Suddenly C54 is transformed into an open ward filled with beds side by side along both walls. Nurses in white dresses, shoes, and caps are attending to the patients. Is that woman wearing a pinafore? What is she doing? A doctor in a white coat seems to look knowingly in my direction but then returns his attention to a patient. No one seems to notice me. Lightning illuminates the world outside the windows of the ward electrifying the night as thunder cracks. A nurse tries to calm a distressed patient. An apparition appears at the end of the ward. Is she an angel? She walks slowly toward me. I try to scream but can make no sound. 

Then my vision vanished as someone calling to me snapped me back to reality.

"Can I help you?

"Oh, uh, yes. I was told to pack my belongings and report to the nurses' station here. I'm from 5 Boyd Tower."

But, no, nothing like that ever happened.

I also recall a female nurse on C54 who was nice. In my memory she is auburn-haired and kind with a bit of a Southern accent. I don't suppose she actually had an accent but that's how I remember it for some reason. 

I remember her coming into our room one evening and checking on me which I thought was sweet. Did she sit on the edge of my bed, or do I just like to remember it that way? I recall being attracted to her and forgive me dear reader, wishing she would slip into bed next to me. 

I was nearing the end of my journey when I got to C54. I would be discharged in early February. But I didn't feel well at all. I had gained a lot of weight. That was the point I suppose. I had been emaciated and on the brink of death when I'd arrived. But now I was fat, depressed, and my stomach still bothered me. Why had I come here if I felt just as bad or maybe even worse than when I'd arrived? I was angry with the so-called treatment team. I hated them. Yes, I thought about suicide a lot in that room on C54 just before being discharged. Strange, huh? 

* * * 

I walked the halls a lot during the evenings and weekends while boarding in the hospital. I could walk from Boyd or C54 on the North all the way over to newest addition to the hospital. It felt strange walking the empty halls of a big hospital feeling like I should be living in my apartment and working like a normal person. I was scared. What was going to become of me? Would I return home? Would I ever get through all of this? What did my future hold?

During my second major hospitalization in '05, 5BT had become home to the Partial Program. The place where I boarded long ago was now Partial. The EDO group had to walk south all the way over to the Occupational Therapy (OT) kitchen twice a week, one day to cook our own breakfast and another day to prepare a group lunch. We also walked to the Activities Therapy gymnasium and to aquatic therapy on the lower level in the Rehabilitation Therapies area. Did you know hospitals could have a small gymnasium? The wading pool for aquatics had water that was quite warm and felt good. Also, the treatment team believed that learning to be comfortable around others in a swimsuit was beneficial for body image issues. 

I could no longer board in the hospital in '05, so I had to stay in a motel off campus. When that arrangement proved insufficient, I ended up living in the same residential care facility Ryan had years before. 

Upon discharge from Partial I chose to stay living in the city near the hospitals and clinics. I even volunteered in the Patients' Library at the hospital and made several deliveries and pickups in various parts of the hospital. I got to know the layout of the hospital even better than I already had. 

* * *

The old gothic tower never scared me. It was kind of eerie the first time I noticed it when passing from Boyd into the General Hospital. I realized that the red brick and limestone I was looking at was the facade, the entrance, of the old hospital. I'd discovered old ruins! I'd discovered a medieval castle! I'd discovered a lost city. I'd discovered the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! I'd discovered the Great Temple at Abu Simbel. You get the idea.

I tried to imagine when Boyd didn't exist, and the new additions didn't exist. I tried to imagine when the General Hospital was cutting edge in its day and a preeminent teaching hospital. 

I noticed windows on the old facade that I assumed at one time were functional but now seemed to have a wall of black behind them. These windows that seemed to show no interior and no light beyond them were eerie. Windows that lead to nowhere. It's possible that these windows had always been false or blank windows. I don't know much about architecture. At any rate, the windows on the old facade were interesting. 

Was this old facade telling me that in my healing journey I was going to see no light of hope? Were these old windows a visual metaphor that I was going to have a tough time transitioning into a new life after treatment? Windows can represent hope and possibility. But what if the windows seem to lead to nowhere? Perhaps these blocked portals were telling me to forget past struggles and traumas and to embrace a new vibrant and healthy life. Perhaps these seemingly blocked windows were symbols of security and safety, acting as protective barriers between a painful past and a new healthy beginning. 

Here's what an AI program generated for me:

Gothic architecture, with its soaring spires and intricate details, serves as a metaphor for healing by symbolizing aspiration and transcendence; just as the great cathedrals draw the eye upward, representing a quest for spiritual elevation and renewal, so too does the journey of healing invite individuals to rise above their pain, seeking restoration and a sense of purpose. The interplay of shadow and light within these structures mirrors the complex layers of healing, where moments of darkness often highlight the eventual emergence into clarity and hope, creating a sanctuary for reflection and rebirth.

* * *

The General Hospital fascinated me more so than the new hospital additions. One of the amenities available in GH was a beauty salon located on the fourth floor. Guess what it was called? Yes! The Fourth Floor Salon! I don't recall ever being in the salon although a stylist did come to the psychiatric unit one day to give me a haircut. Yes, I tipped her. The first floor of General Hospital offered another amenity called the Meditation Room. I would call it a chapel, but I guess that would be politically incorrect. The Meditation Room offers people a quiet place to reflect, and I assume to pray if one so chooses. 

During Partial I ate three times a day in the Fountain Dining Room on first floor General Hospital. Back then it was a simple cafeteria with a few options. One evening I recall having ham loaf with mashed potatoes AND a side of french fries. Now the dining room has stations including a grill, deli, hot daily specials like chicken strips and mashed potatoes and gravy, soups, salads, and desserts. Plus, you can find pizza and sushi every day. 

* * *

On first floor in a hallway in General Hospital near the cafeteria one can find a diagram of a compass inlayed into the wooden floor. I can't recall if a compass is on every level of GH, but I believe so. Follow the compass north from that spot on Level 1 and soon you'll reach Boyd Tower. Head south to reach the new parts of the hospital. 

I suppose this is the part of the essay in which I make some compass metaphor about how I was lost and trying to find my way to a healthy, happy life.

Here's something that I had an AI program generate for me:

Navigating the Storm: Life is a vast ocean, and when storm clouds of doubt gather, let your compass be the values you hold dear. These guiding stars will steer you towards the calm waters of understanding and self-acceptance.

Nice, huh?

AI generated this as well:

The Detour: Sometimes, healing takes us on unexpected detours. A good map shows alternate routes, and in life, these detours can offer unexpected lessons and discoveries. Embracing the journey—even when it strays from the original path—can ultimately lead us to a more profound understanding of ourselves.

The hospital was more a part of my life than I wish it had been. But I lived to tell my story.

Dear reader, I'll leave you with some more AI generated thoughts:

Healing in a hospital with both old and new sections present a contrast in atmosphere and experience. The old section may exude a sense of history, potentially fostering nostalgia and familiarity for long-time patients, but might also be associated with outdated facilities and limited resources that could hinder recovery. In contrast, the new section likely boasts modern design, advanced technology, and comfortable amenities, contributing to a more calming and efficient healing environment. This juxtaposition highlights the evolution of healthcare practices, where innovative spaces aim to enhance patient experience and outcomes, while the older section may still evoke traditional care approaches that some may find comforting.

The Wrestling Schedule

At the beginning of my last high school wrestling season, each wrestler on the team received a cardboard poster with the season's wrestling schedule printed on it, furnished by Pepsi. 

I tacked the schedule onto the wooden door at the doorway between our kitchen and dining room. The door was almost always in the open position. I feel a bit silly about hanging the schedule on the door now. Perhaps my mother didn't want some silly sports schedule hanging on her door, especially during the holiday season. But no one told me to remove it and hang it elsewhere so that's where it stayed all season. 

I would come home from meets and tournaments and record in the margin how I had done. Sometimes I recorded the score or my placing. 

Unfortunately, I don't have the poster any longer. I have found some similar sports schedules provided by Pepsi from around that same time period that look quite similar to what I remember. The posters are sometimes marked showing wins and losses. So, at least I know the posters really existed and I didn't just imagine them.

I do have a small schedule of that wrestling season. And I know how I fared at each competition. Nonetheless, I tried to recreate the poster for the fun of it. It's interesting looking at it now.

* * *

I hadn't remembered that twice that season the opposing team had no one for me to wrestle and I received a bye. I placed third in my first two tournaments which doesn't seem so bad now. However, at the time I felt as though I was getting off to a rather middling start to my season. In fact, I was even pinned by a good wrestler at the South Winneshiek Tournament. At the Starmont Invitational I'd lost a close match in the second round to someone I was capable of beating. That same Waukon wrestler beat me again in a close match a couple weeks later.

I wrestled better in our second meeting. I scored a takedown early in the match. I even had to drag him from the edge of the mat to keep him from going out of bounds before securing my two-point takedown. But, of course, I gave up an escape and a takedown and lost the match by a point. At least that's the way I remember it. I was embarrassed. I was a senior and should have been beating this guy. I hadn't won a match against Waukon ever in high school, although I did wrestle a Waukon opponent to a 2-2 tie in a dual meet the year before. 

* * *

I finally won the Central Invitational after Christmas break. I even pinned my opponent in the finals! I was elated. I was so happy to finally win a tournament that season and with a commanding performance. But my coach wasn't impressed. When he held a team meeting at the beginning of Monday's practice, he said I still wasn't being aggressive enough. 

Two days prior to the Central tournament, when wrestling a Central wrestler at a home dual meet, I felt like I was going through the motions. Even our announcer, who was also a teacher, mentioned that I didn't quite seem myself that night. I don't believe he used the words lethargic or languid, but he noticed my lack of drive and passion that night. I had to agree with him.

The Decorah meet left me a bit disillusioned. I got beat by a freshman! I seem to recall him throwing me to my back twice. Each big move earned him five points in an instant. I had to really scrap to get my nine points. I think I had him on his back a couple of times. But it wasn't enough as I lost 10-9. As I left the mat my coach said something like, "You worked your ass off and still got beat by a point!" He seemed more disgusted or confused than angry. 

One of my teammates seemed particularly upset with my performance even though he himself would get pinned that night. I wonder if he had a personal beef with the kid I wrestled. Before my match, he kept telling me I was going to kick my opponent's ass. As I was struggling in my match, he was yelling more than our coach. I was a bit upset with him actually. I wanted to tell him (perhaps even the entire team), "Don't get in my f*cking face before a match! Don't try to predict how I'm going to do in a match! Don't place your expectations on me! This is my f*cking match! Leave the match and the wrestling to me!"  

I found an old newspaper clipping. Reading the article was a bit painful. The opposing team fully expected me to win that night. The opposing coaches were simply hoping their guy wouldn't get pinned. They figured if I simply won a 3-point decision that was a win for them. The article mentioned their freshman earning an upset victory over a senior. The opposing coach even thought my loss was a big turning point for them. 

"That was the turning point right there," said Decorah's coach. "The wind really left their (Postville's) sails. I could see it."

Well, maybe he was right. Six of my teammates got pinned following my match. That's right. The other team scored six pins in a row and two more victories after my loss. We didn't win match all night. We received 12 points because of two forfeits. But we lost the meet in a resounding 49-12 shellacking. Still, I think it's a bit much to blame it all on me. Perhaps I should be flattered that the opposing coach thought so highly of me. 

I met the guy who had beaten me one evening in Decorah after the season was over. He was a nice guy. He wasn't cocky. Defeating me might have been the highlight of his high school wrestling career. At any rate, he said he'd never been that calm and focused before a match before. I guess I brought out the best in him that night. 

I came home that evening and ate a snack. I didn't eat out of sadness or anger. I was upset tough. I began to wonder about my rigid dieting. Maybe I needed to ease up a bit on my strictness. How could I let myself walk right into a throw twice? I knew I needed to get my shit together if I was going to achieve my lofty goals this season, mainly winning a conference title and qualifying for the state tournament. But things would get worse before they got better. 

* * *

The night of the North dual I didn't want to be there. The dual was a home meet, but I still didn't want to be there. It was a cold January winter night, and I'd rather have been some normal guy just sitting at home watching television. How can you win a match when you have no desire to even be in the building let alone competing on the mat? Well, I learned that you can't.

When my opponent and I first tied up, things were going okay. He doesn't feel that strong. I can handle this guy. I can beat this guy.

I believe that sometime in the third (last) period, when I was wrestling in the bottom position, my opponent caught me in some move. I was suddenly imprisoned in an awkward position from which I couldn't escape. I just didn't have the strength, physically or mentally, to free myself. The referee blew his whistle and slapped the mat signaling the pin. I had just gotten pinned! I had just gotten pinned in front of the home crowd, in front of my parents, in my own f*cking school gymnasium! 

A pin, or fall, is a victory condition in various forms of wrestling that is met by holding an opponent's shoulders or shoulder blades on the wrestling mat for a prescribed period of time.

A pin, or fall, is when you put your opponent on his back with any part of both shoulders or both shoulder blades of your opponent in contact with the mat for two seconds. When you pin your opponent, the match is over, and you are the winner.

I got pinned!

I got stuck!

My opponent won the match by fall. Did you enjoy the view of the lights on the ceiling while you were stuck on your back? 

If an old newspaper article I found is accurate, I was pinned at the 5:20 mark. A high school match is 6 minutes. I don't know if I was winning or losing at that point. I suppose I would have given up 3 back points and lost regardless. But if I'd held on for 40 seconds at least I wouldn't have been pinned. 

I didn't have the heart to write "pin" on the cardboard poster when I got home that night. It was too painful. I simply wrote "lost" and left it at that. My parents didn't say a word, thank God. Christ, I was embarrassed. In fact, I felt ashamed. I'd been pinned twice before in high school. I was pinned at a big JV tournament during my freshman year when I was asked to wrestle up a weight. And I'd been pinned earlier that year at South Winneshiek against a guy who became a very good wrestler indeed. In fact, he was a three-time state place winner in high school and a two-time NCAA Division III champion in college. But how the hell could I explain getting pinned like I just did? 

Maybe I should have written "PINNED" on the poster as a reminder to get my shit together. 

* * *

Arnold Schwarzenegger faced criticism for his underdeveloped calves early in his bodybuilding career, prompting him to publicly address the issue by training them intensely.

Instead of hiding his calves, he chose to confront the issue head-on. He cut off the bottoms of his training pants, making his calves visible to everyone, and publicly stated that he would train them intensely until they resembled "huge boulders". 

Arnold was very determined to transform his calves, to the point of cutting off all his training pants. The embarrassment he was suffering every day gave him a lot of motivation and a sense of urgency to fire up his calf training.

Would the embarrassing defeat I'd just suffered on the wrestling mat fire me up?

* * * 

A week later I did have a big win. At least it appears on paper to be a big win. I won 10-2. But it didn't seem like a big win at the time. It's clear that my opponent scored two points. Do you know how he scored two points? He took me down almost immediately after the whistle started the match. What the hell is wrong with me? Then I went on a rampage and didn't give up another point and even scored ten of my own. 

The biggest test was yet to come.

* * *

At the conference tournament I was seeded second since the wrestler from North had pinned me. I walked up to the bracket sheets hanging on the gymnasium wall just in time to hear someone from North comment on the 112 lb. class. "Oh, we got this weight. He already pinned that guy from Postville."

I smiled at their cockiness. So, you think it's as simple as all that, huh? Well, you got another thing coming!

I knew something they didn't. I knew something no one else seemed to know. I knew I'd simply had an off night two weeks ago. I knew I could beat this guy. But I had to get past the kid from West Central again first. That's the match that had me freaking out. Sure, I dominated him before. But what if something went wrong?

The semi-final match against West Central went fine. In fact, I achieved something called a technical fall. I got ahead of my opponent by 15 points, and they stopped the match. Even during the match, I began to feel so confident I winked at one of my school's cheerleaders. 

I felt no pressure going into the finals. I knew I wasn't going to get pinned again. I knew if I wrestled my best I could win. I did just that. If old newspaper articles are accurate, I defeated him 9-3. I heard through the grapevine that even the opposing coach was impressed by my performance. 

At Monday's team meeting, my coach even praised me. He said, "If you keep wrestling like you did on Saturday, no one can stop you."

After I left the locker room one evening during the week of the Sectional tournament, I walked back to the locker room door for some reason. I overheard a teammate and my coach talking about me. 

My teammate said, "The last two years he seemed to fizzle out toward the end of the season. But this year he seems to be getting stronger."

I smiled and walked away quietly somehow knowing he was right in his assessment.

* * *

I went on to win the sectional and district titles as well. By winning the district title, I qualified for the state tournament. I looked into the stands after winning the in the finals and gave my parents a thumbs up. At least that's how I remember it. 

I didn't run and jump into my coach's arms. I simply walked to the edge of the mat, shook his hand, and said, "Finally." 

I think he knew what I meant by that one word. He'd seen all of my ups and downs. He'd seen me triumph. He'd seen me utterly defeated. I come close to my goals the two previous years and now I'd gotten the job done. Sure, I was happy. But I was also relieved. I'd finally proved I could dominate when it really mattered. I hadn't fizzled out this year. 

My dad couldn't wait for me to come into the stands. He came to the locker room to congratulate me. 

When my mother got home from the district tournament she called my buddy Chris's mom. 

"Do you remember that little boy you used to drive to pee wee wrestling tournaments? Well, he just made it to state!"

I received a lot of cards from people congratulating me on my successful season and for being a state qualifier.

The night before I left for the state tournament, I got a call from a beautiful blond girl from the junior class with whom I had some romantic history. She had seen me in victory and defeat. She'd seen me struggle to make weight. She'd seen me running along the road on summer nights to work on my physical conditioning while other kids were going to movies. She was happy to see me reach my goals. She wished me luck at state. 

Before she hung up, she told me she loved me dearly and that I was the most amazing guy she'd ever known (Just kidding. She really did call me but this part about her loving me is hyperbole. I'm the author so I get to tell the narrative the way I want. I like this version. This is my truth! Ha!).

* * *

I know what you want to know. How did I do at state? I lost first round 5-2 and that was that. I did score a 2-point reversal doing a cool move called a standing switch. But I just couldn't handle my opponent. I was disappointed but not devastated. The guy who defeated me in that first round placed 4th. So, at least I can say I didn't beat by some second-rate adversary. 

But my goal had always been merely to get to state. I'd never allowed my vision to be any loftier than that. I'd never been confident enough in my abilities to envision being on the awards podium at the state tournament. I thought qualifying for state was a big deal. I've learned that some people aren't impressed if one doesn't actually place. 

When I spoke to my freshman college roommate, who was also from small town Iowa, over the phone that summer we talked briefly about sports. He was a basketball player. I mentioned wrestling.

"So, were you good?" he asked.

"I did all right," I replied.

"Did you make it to state?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Oh, you're good!" he said.

See, he understood.

Cliques: A Mosaic

I first heard the word clique in high school. I found the word strange and disagreeable to my ear perhaps because I could only imagine its homophone click. I'd heard phrases like social circle or peer group, but the word clique was new to me. I think a fellow class member was going to write a paper or give a speech discussing these so-called cliques or exclusive circles of persons. 

I think it's fitting that I first encountered the word in high school where cliques seem to abound. Elementary school had a different vibe. The complexities of peer groups seemed a bit simpler. A lot of us had best friends in elementary. We slept overnight at friends' houses. Perhaps we had a group we played with during recess. We identified with our class and our teacher. Life seemed fairly egalitarian. A lot of birthday parties seemed rather inclusive, for instance. 

High school was different. We sometimes drifted away from old friends. We participated in different sports and other extracurricular activities. Some of us were acquainted with upper classman who had cars. Soon we were driving cars ourselves. And dating members of the opposite sex changed the structure of teen life. 

* * *

When we were still youngsters, I can recall my older sister asking, "Would you rather be the most popular student in your class or the best athlete?" Perhaps she mentioned physical appearance as well. I think she speculated that an individual being the best athlete may also be the most popular simply as a matter of course. I wasn't so sure about that.

* * *

My younger sister and I used to play games some of which involved role playing. One of us would wrap ourselves in an afghan or knitted throw blanket of some sort and pretend it was a fur coat. The other person would then start mocking them. "Hey, richie! Nice fur coat, richie! You think your hot stuff, huh?" I guess we'd already decided that rich, snobby people deserved ridicule. 

* * *

My buddy Chris came to school one day in fourth or fifth grade talking about the rival gangs portrayed in the film West Side Story. He seemed quite excited about the Jets and the Sharks. I think he had a much older brother who was a schoolteacher and had access to such films. I doubt Chris thought much about the rival gangs' ethnic backgrounds The Sharks being recent migrants from Puerto Rico perhaps found life to be a bit tougher than their rivals the Jets. 

My buddy and I also saw the film Grease together. This film also featured two rival gangs, the T-Birds greaser gang and the Scorpions. But we're also introduced to a so-called jock named Tom and greaser girl clique the Pink Ladies consisting of Frenchy, Marty, Jan and leader Rizzo. The new student, Australian Sandy Olsson, is a bit too wholesome and chaste in the eyes the Pink Ladies. Will our greaser hero Danny Zuko end up with Sandy? Of course! The film's finale brings love and surprises. At a carnival, Danny and Sandy each find they have changed for each other: Danny has become a letterman, and Sandy a greaser girl.

I think my buddy's mom bought him a black t-shirt so he could dress like a T-Bird. 

"From the start of the film, the dashing protagonists Danny Zuko and Kenicke Murdoch spend most of the film clad in black or white t-shirts, blue jeans or black cigarette pants, and, of course, their leather jackets emblazoned with the T-Bird insignia. This simple combination of timeless pieces is foolproof. The look, which served the traditional purpose of a uniform—to signify the group's place in society—has evolved to serve its other purpose, a reliable outfit pairing to always fall back on."

* * *

Many of us individuals in the Generation X demographic cohort read S.E. Hinton's coming-of-age novel The Outsiders while in grade school. The book details the conflict between two rival gangs divided by their socioeconomic status: the working-class Greasers and the upper-middle-class Socs (Socials).

"It’s okay. We aren’t in the same class. Just don’t forget that some of us watch the sunset too."

Ponyboy speaks these words to Cherry Valance in Chapter 3 after he, Two-Bit, and Johnny spend time with Cherry and Marcia at the drive-in. Ponyboy points out that the sunset closes the gap between the greasers and Socs. He realizes that, even though the two groups have unequal lifestyles, attitudes, and financial situations, they nevertheless live in the same world, beneath the same sun. 

"It seemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and, the one I saw from the back steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset."

* * *

I started dating a beautiful redhead during my sophomore year of high school. She mentioned a group she referred to as the "super popular" kids at her school. I liked that. I thought I knew what she meant. I never felt like I was part of the popular group at school, but I never felt unpopular or excluded by my peers either. I think perhaps she felt the same. I like how she invented a term of her own for the upper echelon of the teen hierarchy. 

She had been overweight in her younger days. She had lost weight and become slim just before beginning her freshman year. She enjoyed having the other girls suddenly concerned about their boyfriends' level of attentiveness when she was around. 

She found she was able to climb the social ladder while in high school while some of her longstanding friends could not. I think some feelings got hurt along the way. She admitted she liked the attention of the cool set and being noticed. I imagine it was an exciting but strange time for her. After all, she was still the same person, right? 

* * *

Our school didn't seem to have a lot of distinct groups. We all lived in the same rural community. Whether one lived on a farm or in a small town didn't make too much difference. 

High school has some natural divisions by its very nature because of the various clubs, organizations, and extracurricular activities available. I felt a comradery with other wrestling team members, for instance. 

My peers might have been involved in any number of activities and groups:

Athletes 

Cheerleaders 

FHA (Future Homemakers of America)

FFA (Future Farmers of America)

SES (Students for Educational Service)

Peer Helpers

Student Council 

School marching, concert, and jazz band

Chorus

Speech groups

Annual Staff 

4-H

Church youth groups

* * * 

The film Revenge of the Nerds came out in 1984. Was that word already in our vocabulary before that? I don't know. A film called Preppies was also released in 1984. 

Preppy fashion went mainstream and became quite common during my high school years perhaps due in part to the publication of The Official Preppy Handbook in 1980. A lot of us were wearing so-called boat shoes even though we'd never set foot on a sailboat. We liked our polo shirts and our oxford cloth button-down shirts. 

We had no punks or goths that I can recall. We had no greasers although a few individuals wore leather jackets. We did have some cowboys with their woven nylon belts fitted with giant belt buckles perhaps adorned with a stallion or a piece of stunning turquoise. Yes, I had a pair of turquoise-colored cowboy boots. But I wore boat shoes and polo shirts much more often. 

I wore an argyle sweater vest one day and someone told me I looked like Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties. I took it as a compliment.

I had a Members Only jacket. That's not entirely true. Like many other teenage boys, I had a knockoff that looked like a Members Only jacket. My girlfriend liked it, so I guess its counterfeit status didn't matter. I liked my Tropix t-shirt with wind surfers on the front even though I lived in the Midwest. My mother sewed an off-white blazer for me. I wore it with the sleeves rolled or pushed up because I wanted to look cool. 

Maybe some of my classmates had a "uniform" and an identity to which they were committed. Good for them. I always seemed to be trying to find my look.

A couple of hair stylists visited a Home Economics class I was taking as a junior. The female asked us what we thought was in fashion right then. Answers included polo and oxford shirts, high-top basketball shoes worn with the laces untied, Army fatigue pants, and bi-level haircuts. Yes, I had a pair of Army green pants as a freshman. Mom to the rescue again. She found them in a local menswear shop. They looked nice paired with a blue polo shirt. If I could have found a camouflage pair, I suppose I would have worn them too. 

What about the influence of music and pop culture? What about Madonna?

"She continues to reign as an icon of pop culture, constantly adapting her style to the ever-changing Zeitgeist. By the end of the decade, teenagehood continued to fragment, as hard rockers, mods, preps, and other teen cliques emerged with their own fashion, music, and lifestyles. This fragmentation became the defining feature of pop culture generally, spreading teen lifestyles to the culture at large. It is no exaggeration to claim that the foundation of our current economy is largely implanted in the terrain of teenagehood. Pop culture and teen culture have become virtual synonyms."

"The Punk category of the 1980s in Belten began as a group, and rose to cultural prominence as other groups and individuals adopted its style. In contrast, a small group of low visibility in Belten, who referred to themselves as "Cowboys" because of their involvement with horses, came and went in the school unnoticed by the school society. A small group of girls in a California high school, referring to themselves as "Duranies," remain a clique united by their devotion to the rock group Duran-Duran. The Cowboys and the Duranies failed to become categories by virtue of their specificity. The very localized and limited interests that set these groups apart did not represent important cultural issues that could be generalized to the rest of their age group." 

* * *

I suppose I was a bit of a letter jacket snob. I believed these jackets were meant for those who lettered in sports. I didn't care if someone lettered in band. Why do band members get pigeonholed as being nerds? Actually, the Student Body President during my freshman year was a senior boy who was fashionable and handsome, excelled in sports, and happened to play the tuba. No, you can't have a letter jacket for getting good grades! We already have the Honor Role. 

To my dismay, I've come to believe that letter jackets were never much of a status symbol. No one really cared. 

The National Honor Society (NHS) held an annual banquet during which it inducted new members. This really infuriated some students so much so that they had a F*ck NHS Party on the same evening. Actually, the official name of the party was even more vile, so I won't repeat it here. How dare the academically gifted have a private banquet! Revenge of the nerds?

* * *

As a junior, I dated a preacher's daughter for a while. She was intelligent and excelled in speech and drama. I was a wrestler with a 2.5 GPA. I was quiet and hopeless when it came to conversation. I always wondered why she was attracted to me. Oh, wait! I guess it was my striking good looks and my stunning, muscular body. Ha! Oh, calm down. I'm just joking. God! 

She wasn't a killjoy or a prude. She wasn't particularly pious and certainly not sanctimonious. She was simply a kind, ethical person. She wasn't a rebel trying to dismiss the virtuous stereotype people might have of a preacher's kid. She was just your basic teenager.

She hadn't always attended our school. She had moved around a bit before her father took a position at the church I attended. I asked her about making friends at a new school and fitting in. She said she was happy with her friends and her school activities. She wasn't striving to be accepted by the popular kids. I'm not sure she even viewed the world through that sort of lens. She had friends she enjoyed spending time with and who she held dear to her heart. What else was there to be concerned about?

I suppose I thought about image and popularity a lot more than she did. I actually did date some attractive, popular girls at our school and other schools. How did I pull that off? I don't know. 

Occasionally, I would find myself hanging out with some popular guys. I can recall being in a car with some of the most popular guys in my class and probably finding it a bit surreal, wondering how this came to be. 

I have to admit I was a fanboy of some guys at our school. If they talked to me or gave me a ride in their car it felt good. I saw others experience the same thing at times. They thought they had reached the top. But an outsider could tell they still didn't really fit in and their situation hadn't really changed. Some people had some definite ideas about their status. One of my classmates was stunned and disappointed when she wasn't chosen as a Homecoming Queen candidate. I think her reaction went beyond dismay. I think she was truly baffled. 

I was chosen to be a Homecoming escort during my senior year. At the time, I thought this was remarkable. Cleary, I was popular to receive such an honor. On the other hand, perhaps it was deemed more practical to have me and a couple of other boys be escorts because some of the more popular boys were football players and couldn't be inconvenienced with the duties of being an escort. I know. I sound like sour grapes. I did enjoy being an escort and the girl I escorted became Queen! And during my four years of high school, I was never once chosen to be a Sweetheart candidate. Striving to be popular leads to disappointment. 

* * *

When I was dating the preacher's daughter, we saw the film The Breakfast Club. Five teenagers spend a Saturday in the school library for detention. 

"The film tells the story of five teenagers from different high school cliques who serve a Saturday detention overseen by their authoritarian vice principal. On Saturday, March 24, 1984, five students at Shermer High School in Shermer, Illinois, report for an all-day detention: socially awkward Brian Johnson, jock Andrew Clark, shy loner Allison Reynolds, popular girl Claire Standish, and rebellious delinquent John Bender."

My date liked this movie. She enjoyed hearing each character's story and how each came to be in detention that day. 

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us — in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club

Well, we couldn't all be as popular as Ferris Bueller.

"Oh, well he's very popular Ed. The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore him. They think he's a righteous dude."

Another film I saw was High School USA. 

Set in a Midwestern high school, the film follows J.J. Manners, a spirited student who competes with the affluent and popular Beau Middleton for the affection of Beth Franklin. Amidst typical teenage antics, the rivalry culminates in a climactic race. In the film we see several clearly delineated cliques - the preps, the nerds, greasers, and intellectuals. 

I recently watched The Night Before from 1988.

"She's not a hooker in the first place!"

"She's not?"

"No! She's a cheerleader. And the junior class treasurer. And a member of the Young Republicans."

* * *

College wasn't much different. I suppose if was different in the sense that we were all striving to get a degree and most of us lived in the dorms. Students were more concerned with careers and even marriage than petty concerns about cliques or popularity. But I did go out with a rich girl for a while who was forced to dump me because I was a farm boy. Farm boy? Egad!

The real world is different to some extent although I'm sure some people strive to belong to particular country clubs or Mommy groups or what have you.

"The ones who were fresh from work were wearing these very boxy Brooks Brothers suits and red ties. That just kills me, the phony goddamn Red Tie of Wall Street. The women wore these long, shapeless dresses, or else they wore jeans and shirts that were fun. Everything was fun. “Isn’t this a fun place, Charles?” “Yes, it’s good, optimum, marvelous fun.” It was cliquey as hell, too. The arty types hung around in a corner and smoked Shermans; the athletic, health minded bastards stayed near the bar, talking about their injuries. There were even college cliques: the Yalies were all prim and proper, standing at attention in a horseshoe around the piano, belting out these very corny Cole Porter tunes, while the Dartmouth girls hung out at the bar, arm wrestling for beers. The whole lousy Yuppie world is like one giant prep school, I swear. Know why? Because they want it that way."