We all make choices everyday that affect our lives and the lives of those around us daily. It doesn’t matter how inane you think your choice is. I have made bad decisions, like starting to smoke. A mistake I am still fighting now. The first time I took a drink. I quit but not before hurting people and relationships. I tried drugs. I didn’t like the way weed made me feel. It was never a high I chose to go after again. I chose to take a fulltime job the summer of my senior year in high school and continued said job while in school. That decision had a cause and affect. I was driving home from work on a Tuesday night exhausted. I fell asleep at the wheel and hit a car and crashed into a tree going 40 mph. Launching my lifeless body through the passenger side window. Breaking 6 ribs, three toes, and puncturing my carotid artery as my heart stopped. If I didn’t hit that car would I be alive today? If Mohamed weren’t driving home from his second job what time would my body have been found? I remember calling my best friend in the world that day and in a nonchalant way asked if she could make a call to our Catholic you minister and let him know I wouldn’t be able to make our meeting that afternoon. Not really giving out details of my almost demise. It wasn’t until later on in the day after the surgery to repair my carotid artery did she see the damage my choice did to me. I remember holding her hand with a tube down my throat and not able to tell her it’s going to be ok. Having other friends, RJ, Vinnie, and Lori come visit and me crying because I knew it was possible that I would never be able to hold their hand or hug them again. That was the worst feeling. No amount of morphine could help with that pain. Hearing the story of my mom walking down Pearl Street after the state trooper called her at 5 am, because she thought I was dead and couldn’t get in the truck with my dad and brother in law to come identify the body. I was 18 and about to finish my high school career and go on to Boston College with a partial scholarship in my back pocket.
A month later I was released from Mass General Hospital. Four long weeks of surgeries and rehabilitation to mend me. It’s now October and I am ready to get back to normal. I left that job and asked for my job back at Star Market on Broadway, which was given to me, no questions asked. It was also time to get my ass back to Somerville High. Hug all my friends and start the work of being behind by four weeks. I had a meeting with all my teachers and most told me it was going to be hard but I was capable of doing it. I also saw the Coach Mellilo and told him that I was not cleared to play basketball in my final year. Hard thing to swallow but I manned up and told him. Not that I was going to make or break the team. I was at best going to be coming off the bench and play 15 minutes a game to spell Derek our center. So my focus was on Spring track and field and catch up on the books.
April is here and I am barely passing my classes. I went from a B- student to a D+ student. No excuses here. I didn’t hit the books hard enough. I wasn’t focused. I wanted to live every second to it’s fullest. My choice to go and hang out at Revere Beach then go home and read my text books and catch up to my classmates. My thoughts were as long as I remain where I was grade wise; I will barely graduate and go on to BC. No harm, no foul. Only I forgot that the finals would have questions from the first month of class. Oops! I think you know where this is going don’t you. I failed English and Algebra II. So that means, I failed off the Spring track team during an undefeated streak. I was throwing the shot put five to ten feet further then anyone in the league. Running anchor on the relay team and splitting time throwing the discuss or running hurdles. Whatever the team needed to score the points we needed to get the victory. The day the grades came out we were going against a very good Waltham team. We barely lost. I let my teammates down. It didn’t matter to me that four others failed off the team. I put the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Graduation day comes and I get dressed up to go see my fellow classmates. I want to support them on this great day. I take my seat among proud mothers and fathers. I made it about fifteen minutes before I got up and walked out. Got in my truck and drove home. I skipped all the graduation parties I was invited to. I curled up in my bed a broken man. With a heavy heart I put on a smile. It didn’t bother me that I was staying back because it was my choices that put me in the position. All blame put squarely on my now slouching shoulders. I was now a member of Class of ’96. It just didn’t feel right. I bled Somerville High Class or ’95 so I dropped out on Halloween of ’95. I didn’t want to be apart of ’96. Sure I had friends and was doing well grade wise. But I was missing out on my freshman year at BC. Making new memories, friends, etc. I’m an 18 year old high school drop out doing what I thought would make me happy. Get a blue collar job and forget about the piece of paper.
But it never fails. Every year when I see the gowns and “congratulations” signs as young men and women graduation from high school and move on to college. Every year it was like a stab wound to the gut. My amazing ex-wife couldn’t take it anymore and convinced me to go and get my GED. So I did in ’98.
But it still hurts every year. Yes I am an “honorary” member of class of ’95 and not one person in the official class of ’95 has ever said anything. I made a choice and am living with it. But not all choices make you feel like a stab in the gut. Stay tuned as I’m sure I will make another choice to tell you about.
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