Dusting Erasers...Back to the Future

Friday Forum Friends:

Dusting Erasers...
Back to the Future

"...in spite of the great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is or what he is doing." Walker Percy

May 31, 1955...it was the end of the school year. The morning was hot and dry as a group of us sat outside on the back steps of the library, dusting erasers on the brick walls and on each other's heads, as adolescents do. We were waiting for the final bell, the signal that school was out for another year. I was 13, graduating from the 8th grade—the end of middle school, soon to be in the bottom class of high school, and wondering: "What does the future hold?"

The years then were measured from September 1 to May 31, a school year, so there is still a fondness for May 31 in my mind. Summer was here, finally; freedom for 3 months. But time marched on, and soon on another very hot May 31, our high school graduation. My best pal and I drove the jeep down to Yates' Springs to swim...Remember it like it was yesterday. But it was a bitter-sweet day, for soon we'd be college freshmen, again starting at the bottom, and still wondering about the future.

Yes, college graduation ended in May, too, and joyful for another milestone passed, we headed for the big city--Atlanta--assured by a diploma of a fabulous future...only to soon discover we were at the bottom of the next class--the Job Market, that is. We wondered, “Why is the future so tough to grab hold of!”

In time the diploma yellowed as we moved on: jobs, marriage, children, mortgages and life through many September-May years. Summer vacations became occasional weekend escapes, not months of an easy summer. I wondered, “Why was this not the future I'd envisioned?”

May still remains my favorite month for many reasons. Age slows some things down and life changes...but the fond memories of the Mays of years past continue to bring smiles to my face. I suspect you, too, have a favorite month that does likewise.

The future is still unclear, like looking into a diffused mirror, and while this may not be the end destination, one can certainly see it from here! The school of my 8th grade is no longer there...only memories remain. It was a long time ago...We dusted erasers there, wondering about the future, only to now discover that it ends in dust, just like residue of those erasers, and much too soon … too soon.

Bud
May 29, 2008