Along our life journey, I think that we have defining points
- points that we use and describe as “before X” or “after X”. At least that’s true for me. I can group important decisions, areas lived,
and even cars I’ve owned by saying “Before my first child was born...” or
“Before I got married...”, (which, by
the way, has been so long ago now, I can’t use that reference point much
anymore). However, there was a time in
my life that was not only defining, but incredibly fun (and sad), and, in some
ways, life altering. That time happened
in high school. Not just ordinary high
school, mind you; I went to high school my freshman, sophomore and junior year
at ACS, Athens, Greece. (Yes, I look
sadly on the situation that brews in Greece now. I love the Greek population and I love the
country.) I am not alone in this, of course. There are many that grew up in situations
that required family to move multiple times while growing up. Military families, families of those engaged
in global business, embassy families, expats, and the list goes on. I was part of the military family.
I was 14 when I arrived on January 2nd 1969. Innocent, awkward, too big for my age and
looking older than my 14 years, I was thrust into a school where I knew not a
soul. Those that know me now would never
say that I am shy, but what 14 year old, (no matter what the outside bravado)
is not shy or terrified at the thought of going into their first year of high
school? Add to that scenario the fact
that there was no history of friends, I lived on the economy, (that means, for
those of you that have no military background, that you live in the community
rather than base housing surrounded by others in the same situation), I didn’t
know a word of Greek, (makes the old adage ‘It’s all Greek to me’ take on a
highly different meaning) and I had to jump directly into school when I got
there. To top it off, my dad was Navy
and the predominant military base in that area was Air Force. The Navy base was much farther away (closer to
Marathon than Athens) and was very small in comparison. I was not a jock, a superlative student, a
cheerleader, (in fact, I remember trying out for drill team in the 8th
grade and was so grossly out of time with everyone else that I swore I had no
rhythm at all. Turns out that was not true, but it killed my desire to try out
for anything else for fear of looking ridiculous), or particularly
good-looking.
Note of warning here,
I am a “stream of consciousness” type writer.
I can get off track at any time, but it’s my blog, so I can do anything
I want to.
Here’s an example of how well known I was. In the 1970 yearbook, (got there too late to
make the 1969 yearbook, so I didn’t exist as a freshman anywhere in the world)
the name listed for my picture is Dora Freeman.
Yeah, my name is Debbie. I made
quite an impression, didn’t I? It’s OK,
because when I look at that picture, I’m glad it’s the wrong name. It is really bad. I owned and wore several wigs and falls during
this time. Looking at my real hair in
that picture, I think that was a good choice.
It wasn’t too long, however, before I was making friends and
doing what teenagers do. When you move a lot, you learn that you jump in or you stay alone. The student
body was small and very diverse. In this
school, even though you might be a freshman, you may very well be hanging out
with much older or younger students. Everybody
knew everybody on some level. You were
either good friends, “school friends”, or you knew the names of whomever it was
that was the center of the conversation at the moment. I actually was invited to the senior prom my
freshman year by a SENIOR. I mean,
really, how many people can say they went to the Athens Hilton for a prom? See? It wasn’t all bad. Of course, there was the “in” group; you know
- the cool ones that we all were afraid to speak to. There were the smart and popular kids too;
they were friendly and inclusive for the most part, but if you didn’t keep up,
it was a lost cause. These kids were the
ones that had control of everything going on in school for good reason; they
were focused, involved, and had direction.
The teachers at ACS were another remarkable component of
this experience. They were incredibly
diverse, influential, kid centric, involved, and taught us very well. When I came back to finish my senior year in
the States, I was so far ahead of everyone else that it was pitiful. I barely had to do anything to make straight
A’s.
I could probably write a book on the time I spent in
Greece. No, not probably, I most
definitely could write a book.
The saddest thing that seemed to repeat itself during this
time was one day your best friend would be there and the next they would be
going back to the States (or Italy, or England, or Liberia….don’t feel sorry
for us, we were quite lucky.) This sense
of loss happening over and over had an impact on all of us. Sometimes it was sudden, sometimes we knew it
was coming, but it was always hard.
Before the days of texting, Facebook, and all other forms of instant
communication, we would face the loss of friends on a seemingly permanent
basis. (We all knew how to write a
letter, but come on now….) Keeping in
contact was not impossible, life happens after high school, some kept in touch…I
didn’t seem to get that far.
I was 17 when I came back to the States. I was definitely not the same person. My Greek was pretty OK (I can still hold an
almost half-way decent conversation), I may have looked a little better (my
hair was still an issue), I had friends,
(that I had to now leave) and I had an experience that few get to
have. Some would argue that ALL
teenagers change between the ages of 14 and 17.
True, but this was quite different than just the physical and mental
maturing that goes on naturally. I understood
how delicate freedom can be. I
understood that it is possible for different cultures to get along and
be humane to each other in the process.
I understood that we belong to a family larger than our own immediate
one, and that we should care about that.
I understood that we do not have to abandon what we believe to encompass
and understand the beliefs of others, and I had a good understanding of ouzo. (Oh yeah.)
I have recently
learned that we can be friends forever.
I also have learned that I was not the only one that mourned the loss of
a defining time point in my life.
Enter Facebook…..suffice it to say that something wonderful
developed. A Facebook page now exists
that has put many of us back in touch, and this past weekend a reunion
happened. (Need I say that some of those
wonderful people who were so focused in high school, also made this
happen?) Not just any reunion…a reunion
for any and all that attended ACS, you didn’t have to be a graduate; you just
had to be a former student. We
understand broken years, and moving, and starting over again, and making new
friends, and remembering old friends, and distance… I was astounded to find so many others
that felt the same as I did about this period... a defining point in life. I shouldn’t have been surprised, it makes
sense. It has always been so difficult to explain this experience to people. I have kept it in a little compartment in my
heart where I have taken it out and examined it over the years. It gets lovelier with age.
Was I a little nervous about this reunion? I was! Am I glad I went? You bet I am! Did I feel like a teenager again? Hell no….who wants to feel like that
again? (Plus, I now hurt in places I never
hurt when I was a teenager.) I
remembered many that were there, and some remembered me, and those that I hung
out with then I hung out with again. I
wish more friends had been there, but I know life gets in the way at
times. It felt good, it felt right, and
there was ouzo!
