Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I graduated from Father Lopez Catholic High School in Daytona Beach, Florida in 1991. I was, if I remember correctly, the Vice President of my Senior class. I was on the Model United Nations and in the drama club. I spent a few months on the swim team and on the track team. I was in and out of the French club. I was in and out of detention much, much more frequently. I loved my teachers. I loved my classmates. I had a great time in high school.
When I graduated they put a plaque with my photo on it on the wall of the cafeteria, the first “Crest of the Wave” award … er … awarded. I took all the honors classes offered. I had a stellar GPA and I produced, wrote, and starred in our Homecoming pep rally. I got suspended once for lighting the door to the teacher’s lounge on fire. I had — literally — the keys to the campus and would go on weekends to help teachers with projects. Over the course of one semester I managed to methodically and surreptitiously steal each and every one of the bathroom hall passes. I was voted “Most Intelligent” in my Senior yearbook. I was the DJ for our school dances. I was the star of the theater department.
We were the Fighting Green Waves and we had a ridiculous cheer about “rolling, rolling, rolling” over the competition:
Deep down in the ocean (Deep down in the ocean!)
I heard a great roar (I heard a great roar!)
Was a mighty mighty wave (Was a mighty mighty wave!)
And it went like this (And it went like this!)
Rolly-rolly-rolly roll! (Rolly-rolly-rolly roll!)
I didn’t just love my high school. I ruled my high school.
So it was with some sadness today that I read that they’re tearing down my old school. It will soon be replaced by a Super Wal-Mart. They’re building a new school way out on LPGA Blvd. It’s an odd feeling. I no longer keep in touch with any of my classmates and I haven’t visited the campus since about a year after I graduated. But it was my high school, dammit. My parents were divorced when I was very young so I don’t really have a “home” from my childhood. Both my maternal grandparents have died and their home is not in our family any more. My mom seems to move to a new house every four or five years. My paternal grandmother sold her house in Massachusetts a few years ago and moved to a new place in Rhode Island. My dad got divorced (from his second wife) so the house where I spent my summers is now owned by some randoms. I am very much a man without a past. Now that my high school will soon be gone, there is not a single physical location from my youth remaining. That’s kind of a bummer.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Sunday, December 28, 2003
I visited my mom in Gainesville, FL for the holidays. While I was there I looked through some of the boxes of “stuff” that I’d left when I moved to California. This took some time, because I left tons of “stuff”.
Here’s an example of something I decided to put into the “don’t need to save” pile: A copy of the 1989 Who’s Who in Foreign Languages in Georgia & Florida High Schools, published by the Department of Modern Foreign Languages at Valdosta State College in Valdosta, GA. If you have your own copy and are wondering, I’m listed on page 27 as a member of the Father Lopez High School French Club.
Yeah. Uhm. Don’t really need to save that one …
Thursday, March 21, 2002
I took a class in the Fall of ‘94 called Desire and Power in Western Literature. I hated the class and I’m pretty sure the professor, Dr. Snodgrass, didn’t like me very much. I wrote this rambling, terrible excuse for a term paper, in November of that year. It is titled “The Paradox of Popularity: or What does the 1994 MLB strike have to do with being a Tom Petty fan?”
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Tuesday, March 19, 2002
How lame! Here is a little something I wrote in my senior year of high school. Through the wonders of modern technology, it is now posted here for you to read. I wrote this one day instead of paying attention to Miss Bowman’s English class just to see if a girl named Karin France would like it.
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Monday, July 23, 2001
Sometime in the middle of Saturday afternoon I realized that I had somehow managed to completely miss my ten year high school reunion.
Shocking.
I know I wasn’t the president of the senior class or anything, but I was some sort of officer. Vice President? Secretary? Something. I know I wasn’t the Treasurer - I would remember having to deal with money.
What bugs me is that I wasn’t even invited! Was I impossible to find? I can’t imagine that. I mean, I don’t want to hit anyone over the head with the obvious stick or anything, but … davidgagne.net? I find it very hard - although not impossible - to believe that I was the one responsible for organizing a reunion. Did the graduating class of 1991 just … y’know … skip it? Am I the only one that wasn’t invited? Hmmm …
Monday, March 26, 2001
… this is something I wrote on 02.22.91 … seems like forever ago … Ms. Bowman gave me a 94 …
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Tuesday, July 18, 2000
Many people visit this site, I’m assuming, and never even realize that by clicking on the menu bar above they can find out even more useless information about me.
- Did you know that I used to run Track for a bit in high school?
- That I used to row Crew for the University of Florida?
- That I actually really enjoy 19th century literature?
- That I run a mailing list dedicated to news about Gator football?
- That I used to write essays on strange topics?
- That I have been whitewater rafting in Maine?
- That I always chew two sticks of gum at once?
- That I often eat an entire box of Pasta-Roni Lemon Butter Angel Hair Pasta for breakfast?
- That I went snowboarding with my wife and her family in Vail?
- That I have been to the Hard Rock Cafes in London, Miami, Boston, Hollywood, New Orleans, and Orlando? (Okay, granted you couldn’t find that out by reading my old web pages, but I think it’s nifty.)
- That one time I severely burned my arm in a vat of 425 degree peanut oil? (Okay, you couldn’t find that one either.)
- That I spent what seemed like the whole long years of high school madly in love with a girl named Michelle? (Okay, now I’m just listing silly facts.)
- That I used to work on a loading dock hauling freight for 10 hours/day?
- That I once worked in a sports bar as a prep cook?
- That I spent a spring break selling Hawaiian Tropic on the beach?
- That I grew up in Daytona Beach?
- That Jorge used to own a bright shiny blue car that we drove through many lawns?
- That I smoked from the age of 15 until I was 22?
- That my grandfather fought with Merrill’s Marauders in China, Burma, and India?
- That I can positively wail on a harmonica?
- That I once caught 14 mackeral deep-sea fishing off the coast of New England?
- That I once had sex under the bleachers in the gym during a high school basketball game?
- That I have never had acne?
- That I am a huge Boston Red Sox fan?
- That I got drunk the night before my SAT because I honestly didn’t know how important it was?
- That I once dated a lifegaurd named Hope who broke up with me after one week because I was afraid to kiss her?
- That I often shave my head for no reason whatsoever?
- That I once passed out on a pool table at the Purple Porpoise?
- That I once took a leak standing in the middle of Bourbon Street?
- That my uncle was the cop with no speaking lines who accompanied the female cop who pretended to arrest Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder?
- That I can barbeque anything?
- That I hate black beans and rice?
- That I like to eat beef jerky?
- That I used to consider myself an actor?
- That I used to consider myself a writer?
- That I was once paralyzed (literally) by a rare African virus for two days?
- That I eat the popcorn kernels even though I know I shouldn’t?
- That I was a National Merit Scholar?
- That I maniacally collect really good pens?
- That I am fanatical about organizing my t-shirts?
I thought you didn’t.
Sunday, June 25, 2000
As part of the cathartic enterprise that is rearranging my new office, I am tossing my copy of the Charter of the United Nations and Statute of the International Court of Justice. I really can’t remember when I got it, although I assume it had something to do with the insane period of my life when I was a member of the Father Lopez “Model United Nations” club. Sick. I was sick, I tell ya. What the hell was I thinking?
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Tuesday, May 16, 2000
Hmmmm … a prom for bloggers, eh? Could this be my chance to repair all the psychological, physical, and emotional damage incurred at my own prom(s)? I just realized that I have not seen, heard from, or even thought about any of my prom dates in quite some time. Of course, it has been almost a frickin’ decade since I went to a prom …
