I am finally putting my money where my mouth is (sort of). Here is a picture of a sunrise, not necessarily where I live, but still a sunrise I captured on camera. It's over the rainforests of northern Belize. 


Elliot

Ben Huber gave me depressing, yet now seemingly optimistic advice at (T?)the Mountain School, "you can keep three." He was talking about keeping three real, constant connections from TMS, a measly, too few to survive, three. Three felt surely too little, I had forty-four, didn't I?

Now, while you all are still my best friend, I realize I have kept one, measly, too few to survive one. I have kept a one, that has pushed and pulled me into a better direction, a one that has helped me do what I do, and be happy with what I don't, but still a measly, too few to survive, one.
Maybe you all have had better luck; I hope with all my heart you have. However, I'm happy, I am truly happy, even without you, and mostly because of you, and what you helped me do and become. So to steal a sappy Adam Sander quote, or Sting quote (whatever, I really don't care),  "if you love someone, set them free. If they come back they’re yours; if they don’t they never were."
Now, I feel proud enough to set you free. I thank you all for what you have done. I would love if you came back, but if not, I understand. Enjoy where you are, and where you're going. One is a measly number, but maybe sometimes, it's just enough.

TMS Alumni Problems

1. "So did you like milk cows?"
2. Scars from brambles
3. Fudgy oat squares never taste as good as they did at TMS
4. Living vicariously through Marilyn Covey's statuses
5. Regular soap just doesn't compare to Boraxo
6. Still trying to fathom that you are stardust...
7. Being a fan of the OCMS Wagon Wheel, not this Darius Rucker nonsense
8. When Mountain School babies are no longer babies
9. When the following semester eats your favorite cow
10. Contra dances just aren't safe places anymore
11. No, [insert Island School, HMI, Chewonki] is completely different
12. Parents still wont let you use power tools even though you got an ax license from Jack Kruse himself
13. Poking all the squash at the supermarket (once on the culling chore, always on the culling chore)
14. Remembering that his pantaloons were red though you're not quite sure how to use this information
15. When in doubt, quote Directive will no longer save you if you space out in class
16. A perfectly timed sheep escape is also highly unlikely
17. The barbed wire used today is a lot sharper than the stuff at your science site
18. Pending friend request for Aurora
19. Current semesters instagramming pictures from garden hill
20. College cafeteria "maple" syrup

I keep a running list of the 10-20 people in the world who can make me smile no matter how upset I may be. In many ways this list sets me up for failure. I convince myself that these people can do no wrong in the world. I'm devastated when I have to erase a name. I'm elated when I add a new one. I wonder if I am on someone's mental list of people who make them happy. I wonder if I play a similar role to the people on my list. I've kept this list for a couple of years now. Some of you have even been on it. Some of you have been removed from it as well. Through all the changes in my list, only a couple of people have been there the whole time. One of them died earlier this evening and the world became a sadder place.

He was 95 and he lived a wonderful life. He died peacefully, surrounded by the people who loved him.  While it is safe to say that it was his time, a selfish part of me can't help but think about our time. While he lived 95 years, I only got to share 19 with him. A solid 10 of those were spent completely aloof, watching cartoons instead of having a conversation. 3 of those years were spent texting and obsessing over my appearance (even though our time was spent at a retirement home). The past 6 years were golden. I was able to fully appreciate and begin to understand this amazing person who was much more interesting than Spongebob or my new jeans.

The selfish part of me curses whatever notion of god I think I believe in for taking him from me, not the world. I want another day, another week. I wish I'd had the time to tell him goodbye. I wish I had told him about that list and how his picture is in my dorm room. I wish I had told him how I play a soundtrack of his laughter in my head when I'm sad. I wish I could tell him that he never disappointed me like so many people on my stupid list do, and I wish I could thank him for bringing me so much joy and sharing his beautiful spirit with the world.

I have pretty much given up on seeing you guys. When I text or inbox, I get no responses. I can see that you saw what I sent. Technology allows that. At least respond 'NO' or 'I have better things to do' or if you are half decent person 'I am busy sorry.' But apparently that is too difficult. Apparently I am asking too much. It's rude. I'm done trying to be the glue or the coordinator for all our get togethers. I am just tired of it. Good luck in college. Maybe we will run into each other on the street one day. Maybe I will respond if you reach out to me. I haven't stopped caring. I never will. But I am caring from a distance because the lack of response and reciprocation is downright depressing.

Putting My Damned Money Where My Damned Mouth Is.

First off, I played bass for My Damned Money, and was an extra on the set of My Damned Mouth. Second, I keep bringing up the idea of posting pictures of the sunrises over our domiciles (I think this was Elliot's idea. If so, props, bro.) but I didn't follow through myself. But now I have, so hah!

Cheers, 

Mike HD

Our Futures

Human contact is incredibly underrated these days. Don't worry, I am not about to go 50 shades of mountain on you guys. What I mean is that a face to face conversation or tangibly seeing somebody you care about is rare. We all know the generalizations of our generation. We spend too much time on twitter and facebook. We text too much and don't know how to write anything by hand. We are brainwashed etc. However, our group is different. I think one of the things that is so special about the 45 of us is that we value seeing each other. We value the conversations in which we can smile with our faces instead of our keyboards. We value those awkward silences most people dread. We value whale sharks and tomato robbers. We cherish the time we spend together more than most other people do and yet, so many of us are denied these encounters. 

We have these clumps of people in New York and Boston. New York has like 17 TMS kids and Boston has 7 during the school year. The northeastern kids are so lucky that they get to see each other frequently. On the other end of the spectrum are the Santa Barbaras, Seattle's, Farmington's and Minnesota's of our semester who don't go to school together or get to hang out on weekends. Many of us are forced into the paradigm of overusing technology because we like each other a little too much and cannot drive hundreds even thousands of miles.  

 

Now I know we are all stressing about college right now but I am actually really excited. I am excited to see where all of us end up and who we will be with! It's not likely that a majority of our semester or any semester will end up at the same school but we are bound to pair up to some lesser extent. I am excited to see where we move around the country. If we end up on a different coast or somewhere in the middle. 

College is going to unlock such great new relationships for all of us. In these next four years, we are going to rely on each other in ways we have never before. We are going to assume different roles and find our niches in life together. We are going to be each others rock (igneous, glacial, whatever you want). They say it is good to know a couple of people going into college because you will already have friends. I am excited for us because if we know one or two TMS kids going into college, we will already have family.

We are in for a great adventure. So yeah, SAT's, ACT's, The Common Application, supplements, interviews, and deadlines suck. But I see the light at the end of this pain in the ass process. And that burning flame of glory and significance and metaphors and profound stuff at the end of this tunnel is knowing that I may have an opportunity to possibly spend eight more semesters with one or two of you.

Love, 

Char