We Are the Champions

I've paid my dues - time after time.

I've done my sentence - but committed no crime.

And bad mistakes - I've made a few.

Ive had my share of sand kicked in my face -

But Ive come through

We are the champions - my friends
And well keep on fighting - till the end -
We are the champions! We are the champions!
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions - of the world -

+++++++++++++

In the early Winter of 1977, I was introduced to Roger Anderson and his Reynoldsburg Raider Wrestling program. I'd tag-a-long with my big brother, who is eight years older than me, and participate in some of the wrestling practice or sit next to the Mat Maids during the more intense parts of practice.

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This is where I was introduced to 'Classic Rock' and Q FM 96, long before most of my friends listened to, or even liked, harder rock. I was one of the kids at Herbert Mills Elementary School who had an older sibling that went to High School. Paul Unger, Maggie Gebbie, Sandy Back, and Sara Fluck were the others I remember.

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Sandy, Maggie and Paul's older brothers were wrestlers, too. Sometimes, I saw them at wrestling meets, but mostly I hung out with Danny Dobbs. I was the one who introduced Danny to wrestling in 5th grade when I invited him to Roger's Wrestling Camp. Once he was introduced to wrestling, he never looked back.

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Before I realized how much I was NOT a wrestler, I spent those years looking up to my brother, who qualified for the State Tournament during his Sophomore and Senior years. During that time, RHS won the Ohio Central Conference (OCC) in wrestling about 4 our of 7 years.

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My brother wrestled at 126 pounds. That was one of the lighter weights. The last to wrestle was the Heavyweights. Marc Unger (Paul's older brother) was next to last. Mike Moyer was last.

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Usually, Reynoldsburg posted team scores like 65-0 or 45-12. They really dominated every team they went to at the local level. After the home meets, Roger played "We are the Champions / We Will Rock You" at the end of the matches until the coach from Westland High made a complaint of 'unsportsmanlike conduct' and demanded the song be pulled.

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As far as I can remember, it continued playing for the next few years. The song encouraged Raider fans to stomp their feet on the heavy wooden bleachers that surrounded the gym floor. By the time the song reached a crescendo and transitioned into 'We Will Rock You", kids (including me) ran down to the center of the gymnasium and helped to roll up the wrestling mats.

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There is something fiercely primal about wrestling. It's probably one of the two ultimate sports (the other being boxing), that's out there. It's truly 'me vs. you' - a modern gladiator match between two teenage boys who focus only on one person, while cheered or booed by a crowd of one-thousand.

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The day I quit wrestling was the day I became Varsity. Although I love watching wrestling, I was just never a 'me vs. you' person. I always preferred me + you - like team sports or large multi-person events.

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I prefer to sink into the scenery and be one of the thousand, cheering, booing, and celebrating those who prefer to be gladiators.

Close to Me

by The Cure

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed asleep today.
.
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
this close to me.

+++++++++++++

It was sometime around Christmas break of my Senior year (December 1986) when I went with Alan Moore and Mike Butler to Mike Gidley's house in Bexley. Mike's house was tucked into this quiet cul-de-sac. The house was two stories with a full basement. By Reynoldsburg standards in 1986, it was huge.
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Alan, Mike and I split our time between three rooms: the basement, the entertainment room, and a small bedroom.

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The basement had a pool table and a boom box. Three or four of Mike's friends from Bexley High spent a good part of the night there, chain-smoking cigarettes and shooting pool. There was only one girl in the basement, named Carly. She was a Goth chick before Goth chicks really existed.
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We split up from the rest of the party and went up to the 2nd floof of the house. Someone was in Mike's parent's bedroom and someone else was in his sister/brother's room. Mike, of course, was in his bedroom.
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We went to the entertainment room, which was bigger than the great room at most houses, tiled in wood, with another pool table, a full (but unstocked) bar, and a sound system, complete with a CD player and Quadrophonic speakers ringing the room.
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She put in "The Cure - Singles" and we made out on the couch, girl on top.
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Somehow, the guy who had also been chasing her came in and broke it up, then stole her away to the basement and I didn't see her the rest of the night. Alan and Mike, and I think the Beals sisters, too, came up and we listened to "Close to Me" off the 'Standing on the Beach' CD - which was the first time I'd heard the song or the album.
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We moved onward to one of the free bedrooms and hung out. - About six of us crammed into a very small bedroom - I think it belonged to Mike's little sister. I'd even called my mom to say I was going to spend the night at Mike's house. She demanded the address, and I made up an address in Whitehall so I could stay there. I had hoped to hook up with Carly again, but she disappeared shortly after midnight, I think.
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Alan, Mike, and I did what grown-up boys did best - we played around in the Entertainment Room, including slipping around on our socks. I'm sure we played a game where we tried to see who could slide closest to Mrs. Gidley's China Cabinet or played paper-wad basketball, no blood/no foul style.
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We ended up crashing in the Entertainment room, listening to a mix of CDs, including 'Standing on the Beach', 'Sticky Fingers', and 'Ziggy Stardust' (on random mix) until morning.

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When I arrived home, my mom scolded me and sent me to my room to 'think about it.' I was probably grounded for 1 or 2 weeks. The trip was entirely worth it, though. After all, I can still remember most of the details of that one short night with Mike, Alan, Beth Beals, Christy Beals, Carly and Me like it was yesterday.

The Load-Out / Stay

by Jackson Browne

But the band's on the bus
And they're waiting to go.
We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago.
Or Detroit, I don't know.
We do so many shows in a row.
And these towns all look the same...

Please, please stay, just a little bit longer.
We wanna play just a little bit longer.
If the promoter don't mind, and the union don't mind.
We can take a little time and we'll leave this all behind
Singin' one more song.

+++++++++++++
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In 1980, my life was full of change. I went from the comfoy confines of Herbert Mills Elementary to Hannah J Ashton Middle School. My sister was in her Senior Year at RHS; my brother graduated in 1979. My parents also managed to fit a divorce somewhere in there, too.
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My sister listened to Jackson Browne, Tom Petty, and the Eagles on a rotating basis. 1979 had been the year of the 'Naked Taco.' My father worked 3rd Shift in the year before the divorce. Sometimes He'd be awake for dinner, other times he wouldn't. Being a night-owl myself, I understand the feeling 100%.
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Still, the breakdown of the family unit began. My big brother Ron went to Miami University in the fall of 1979. He became homesick every time we took him to the Greyhound station downtown. Then, my sister graduated a year later, going to Ohio University. Ron transferred to OU, where most of his friends were going, anyway.
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And in that next year, my father decided to leave - he'd been unfaithful to mom for quite some time, and I guess there was a last straw in there somewhere. I ended up being one of the only of my friends who had divorced parents. For me, it just meant a longer Christmas with two sets of gift wrapping to rip apart. It also meant weekend with Dad and all that entailed.
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I wasn't bothered too much by it. Ryan and Jason Vaughn or Mike Poirier or Bryan Donahue would come over and spend the weekend at my Dad's apartment, over in Carnaby Village. Our weekly road trip was usually to an OSU hockey game.
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My big brother Ron often says he feels quilty for not being there for me during that time. In all honesty, that didn't bother me ahlf as much as his reluctance to make it back home for Chistmases nowadays - when he has more control over things and the chances for family occur less and less likely.

Still, I've become closer to my sister and I've always been close to my mum. For all of that, I should be thankful - and I am.

Kayleigh

by Marillion

Kayleigh - I just want to say I'm sorry,

But Kayleigh
I'm too scared to pick up the phone.
To find you've found another lover
to patch up our broken home.

Kayleigh,
I'm still trying to write that love song,
Kayleigh it's more important to me now you're gone.
Maybe it'll prove that we were right
Or it will prove that I was wrong.

+++++++++++++

I remember the day I met Diane Burchett. She was the first girl I truly loved. I'd stumbled into
'Campus Life' - a Christian Youth group that I sorta hung out with. I think it was a time-filler, mostly, but it was also the eternal 'search for God.'
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In December of my Senior year, I met her on the band practice field. I think it was Mark Brennan who brought a Nerf football out and we were all throwing it around. I remember Jay Fulton being out there, but nobody else, really. Maybe Randy Reisling. We threw the ball around until Diane caught it. I tackled her full-on, but still landing on my forearms. I remember because it about broke some bones in my wrist.
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Anyway, she had already thrown the ball up into the air...but as I got up, I kissed her smack-dab on the lips, then pulled her to her feet and just ran away - like a 6 year old playing kissy-face on the playground. half-serious, half-not, 100% infuriating to the girl involved.
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We talked a few times, here and there, until I asked her out for Senior Prom. After Prom, Brian Long joked, "I got more than you at Prom and all I got was a good-night kiss."
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But, the funny thing was that I didn't even attempt to kiss Diane goodnight. Just another way that the perception of the click got in the way, I guess.
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That Summer, I went to Summer Camp for the entire Summer. In the afternoons when the Boy Scouts were too busy swimming to come to the Nature Area, I wrote letters to Diane - and Christa Smith, and Tammy Blanke, and Amy Froehlich...bored.
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Anyway, Diane and I started swapping notes more and more until I returned from Summer camp. During my Freshman year at Ohio U and her Senior year at RHS, we started dating - and in fact, we dated for almost two years.
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It was my longest relationship (including my marriage) - and probably the one I miss the most. Diane had a lot of soft qualities I loved in a female friend. I wrote her several poems, but I doubt any one captured the feeling. I guess that's how it goes with love.

Time Stand Still

I turn my back to the wind to catch my breath,

Before I start off again

Driven on, without a moment to spend

To pass an evening

With a drink and a friend

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I let my skin get too thin

I'd like to pause, No matter what I pretend

Like some pilgrim

Who learns to transcend

Learns to live

As if each step was the end

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Time stand still

I'm not looking back

but I want to look around me now

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Time stand still

See more of the people and the places

that surround me now

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Time stand still

Freeze this moment a little bit longer

Make each sensation a little bit stronger

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Experience slips away...

Experience slips away...

Time stand still.

.

+++++++++++++

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There are places in our past, where we spent our time growing up. These placest leave indelible imprints in our hearts and minds. For my friends and me, that place was Pickerington Cemetery.

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Although I think Steve Gorgias was the first to find the cemetery, I'm sure half a dozen others will claim the find as their own. Throughout the Summer of 1987, the group ("The Pit", we called ourselves) would gather at Burger King to begin every Summer night.

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Dennis Macy took the brown Gran Torino, Davis took his yellow "Le Car" (not just a car...it's Le Car, as Poirier often reminded us) Andy Van Buren took his baby blue VW Beetle and Poirier took his bright orange Fiesta. Other cars went, too. So, it was a parade of teenagers speeding through Pickerington to go to the cemetery. Pickerington police must've figured we were looking for our drinking spot.

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But we weren't. We were just hanging out. Hanging out and hanging on to our friendships. Better than the view around us was the view above. Yabo and Pedro (Pete DiSalvo) told us when there were meteor showers or planets or constellations to look out for.

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A small gravel drive led up the hill to the cemetery. Approximately 300 gravestones lined the cul-de-sac and the tiny turnaround at the top of the hill. At the bend, you could see the surrounding lights of Meijer's to the left and 33 South to the right. For 18-year-olds, the view was impressive.
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After we parked our cars, we'd all get out and lean on the bumpers or sit on the hoods of the cars. Sometimes, Yavitch would lead a group through the cemetery to the nearby apple orchard.

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We stayed out 'til 3, or 4 in the morning, worrying our parents to death. But, we weren't drinking (well, not too much). We weren't smoking pot. We played a game we called "conversations", asking questions like "who was your first?" "If you could marry any girl from high school, who would it be?" and "best original album ever?"

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In college, I had to write an essay, visiting a high school memory. I went to that old cemetery in the light of day. In daylight, and 5 years later, the cemetery was just a small plot of land with some gravestones. The rusty wire fence that encircled the graveyard was broken down and worn out, although it was strong enough to rip a gash in Eric Yavitch's leg one night on his trip back from the apple orchard.

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Maybe it was just the timing. We were too old to be kids, too young to be adults, but we wanted to be both. We desperately wanted to be both. We wanted to play baseball in Doug Leonard's backyard. We wanted to make out with that girl who sat next to us in Chemistry class. We wanted to know where our separate lives would take us.

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We just wanted more time.

Afterimage

by Rush

Suddenly, you were gone
From all the lives you left your mark upon

I remember
How we talked and drank into the misty dawn

I hear the voices
We ran by the water on the wet summer lawn
I see the footprints
I remember

I feel the way you would
I feel the way you would

Tried to believe
But you know it's no good

This is something that just can't be understood

+++++++++++++

Here it is, February 15th, 2009 at 5am. Its a Sunday, which means the 5 percent of the world I'm living in is completely quiet. I stand on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home and listen.

Eric's birthday is in a month and I think about it often - he wouldve been 40. There is a large handful of schoolhouse friends who have left me in the last few years. I find it very sad...especially about the ones who have taken their own lives.

Even at its most trying, life is not that difficult. Most of the problems we face are self-wrought. Those that aren't are brought about by people who careen in and out of our lives, like balls on a pool table. Unlike the metaphorical 8-ball, we have some control over our direction and angle of attack.

I think it was lucky for me that Chuck's suicide came first. He and I were not close, even though we were on the same team in Reynoldsburg Youth Basketball during the eighth grade, we hung out together every lunch during our senior year, we went to the Winter Homecoming with a bunch of guy friends and we shared many of the same friends.

Even though there's a cloud-filled sky tonight, it reminds me of the year between high school and college. After Chuck Lane's funeral, Eric Yavitch confided to both Mike Butler and me. He'd said he had been having thoughts of suicide over recent months. He also said "I know we see what Chuck deals with on a different level."

I didn't know what to say, really. I had walked into his law office in 1996, wanting to throw myself off the bridge passing over the Scioto at I-70, just west of downtown. I have dealt with sucide and depression since I was 15 or so. I think it's odd that these two guys both committed suicide and I did not.

I still struggle...

But I don't dare to "flip the switch", because I just have things left on my "To Do List."

Mostly, these deaths of people close to me has brought me to a bigger conclusion: Life isn't about much. It's about the people in your inner circle - the parents and siblings and cousins and children and closest friends.

I had a falling out with one of these people in my Inner Circle about 3 years ago. Although we've made amends, the relationship still isn't on the same course it once was. I think it's time to make full amends. I miss his friendship very much.

Magic Power

by Triumph

Something's at the edge of your mind,
You don't know what it is.
Somethin' you were hopin' to find,
but your not sure what it is.

Then you hear the music
- and it all comes crystal clear.
The music does the talkin',
says the things you want to hear

"I'm young, I'm wild and I'm free...
I got the magic power of the music in me."

+++++++++++++

Just about the time Spring Break came around in 1986, some life-long friendships really began to to take shape. Although our friendships would still grow after that, we all could identify the people we'd still surround ourselves with (even if it was in some small way) during the rest of our lives.

On the Friday before Spring Break, I sat at lunch with the people I always hung with: Jon Trickey, Alan Moore, Mike Butler, Matt Warschauer, and Danny Friedman. We sat in the next to last table, nearest the bus parking lot.

We had been wondering "What are we gonna do for Spring Break?" all week long. It could have been the same old routines: Go to Burger King and hang out for a bit, hit Eastland Mall for awhile, then maybe return home after we watched movies like Platoon, Color of Money, Aliens, or Hoosiers.

Instead, Jon Trickey was itching to do a little bit more.

"I was supposed to go to Fort Walton Beach for Spring Break with mom, but I told her I didn't want to go."

"So you have the house alone? We could hang out and drink or something," said Jon.

"Hang out? I say Nick has a party," replied Alan Moore. Of course, Alan was joking. He always said things half-heartedly when it came to mischief. He was always the one to suggest mischief. I was always the one to act upon it.

"A party would be great," said Jon.

"Maybe something small. Jon, can you bring a band?"

"Bring a band? I can bring two."

I thought Jon was joking. Unfortunately, he was not. Because of my hi-jinx during Spring Break 1985, mom made me stay at the Singer's for 1986. I got a call around 8pm from Betsy Filmer,

She said, "Nick, you gotta get over here. There are two bands setting up their equipment."

So, I went over and tried my best to clean up. I didn't do too good of a job, though. At the end of things, I just kinda gave up, telling Greg Love to watch the house for me before going back to the Singer's for the night.

Hahaha. My god, I should NOT EVEN BEGIN to consider having offspring.

I returned to my house early on Sunday morning. Ward and I placed the outdoor trash can in the middle of the living room and filled it up. After we did, one of us took the full bags to Wendy's, down the street. We must have hauled 20 trashbags to Wendy's that afternoon.

Lord, there is so much more to this story....

Anyway, we had a great time and the song Magic Power reminds me of that time. It also reminds me of the party at Doug Leonard's house where someone turned off the heater and we woke up half-frozen.

Good times.