Who Says You Can’t Go Home?

This article is a reprint from a column I pen each month for the website of my high school class www.DanMccarty70.com.  While it has been over four decades since the 400+ of us exploded from the halls of Dan McCarthy High and into our lives, today over 250 of us still meet on a regular basis in cyberspace to remember, smile and stay in touch.  I hope you enjoy my Ramblings.

Who Says You Can’t Go Home?

Before I go on stage for one of my speaking gigs, I syke myself up with my personal mix of “fire-up” music blaring through the ear buds of my iPod. I am sure I look quite the sight—a possessed gray-bearded, senior citizen, bobbing my head and pumping my fist, as I high-step through the green room getting more fired up by the song. Richard’s Fired-Up playlist, as I labeled it, is composed of about twenty tracks, some as old as I am, and others a menagerie of songs garnered from today’s pop & country genre. This playlist is designed to fire up one, and only one, person on the planet—me.

I chose most songs for their upbeat tempo and some for the way they strum my heart's memory strings. A few—very few—for both. The first song on my playlist is the foot-tapping, blood-pumping, "Who Says You Can’t Go Home," sung by Bon Jovi and Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland fame—two of my favorite artists. This song hits the bull’s-eye for me.

The opening verse begins with the no-room-for-compromise mantra that has been shouted for decades from water towers and football field end zones in every village and hamlet across this great land, by a chorus of wide-eyed adolescents whose bodies seem to have outgrown their ability to reason as they prepare to dive headlong into the early years of adulthood.

They are quick to relate to and sing loud:

I spent 20 years trying to get out of this place…

They, as so many of their generation, believe that they must break the shackles of small-town life to begin to live, to experience all life has to offer, and grab the fame and fortune they are sure is held in escrow for them and them alone, ready to be released as they seize the keys to their kingdom-in-wait. They are, as of yet, unfamiliar with the next two lines of that powerful opening verse.

I was looking for something I couldn't replace
I was running away from the only thing I've ever known

(Click this link)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFI0lxsjTjo&feature=fvwrel

If they successfully dodge the “In Memory” section long enough and survive the barrage of 2X4-size blows to the face life has in store for them, maybe they will be fortunate enough to appreciate the powerful words of the song’s chorus:

Who says you can't go home
There's only one place they call me one of their own
Just a hometown boy, born a rolling stone, who says you can't go home
Who says you can't go back, been all around the world and as a matter of fact
There's only one place left I want to go, who says you can't go home

So, you see, I don’t accept as factual the adage “you can’t go home,” believing it to be at best off base and, from my viewpoint, downright flawed. If it is truly home, you can always go back. If for no other reason, home is where you find your family. Now, before some of you who have chosen to self-transplant to other parts of the country proclaim that your family no longer calls Ft. Pierce home, I remind you that we all have two distinct families: one we are born into and the other we choose, as is the case with our family of choice—the Class of 1970.

This past week, I had the occasion to attend a high school graduation, watching 200 or so eighteen-year-olds “trying to get out of that place.” That was the good news. The not-so-good news is the graduate I came to see seize her sheepskin and kick in the afterburners that she is sure will propel her directly into life in the real world was none other than my oldest granddaughter, Brittney. For the life of me, I do not know how I got old enough to have a granddaughter in college. Then again, it beats the alternative. Can you say the “In Memory" section?

Not that I am a proud Pa or anything like that, but isn't she great?

As I watched the covey of Satellite Beach High seniors who seemed all but certain that they had learned almost everything they would ever need to know file into the football stadium, I could not help but be transported back forty-two years as we prepared to take our first steps into what would become our life. I now know that on that warm graduation day in 1970, we simply did not know what we did not know. Maybe it was good that we were clueless as we left the hallowed halls of McCarty High low on real-world knowledge and cash but certainly high on energy and dreams.  After all, if we had known then what we know now, we may have run back into the DMHS gym hid under the bleachers and refused to come out for the next decade or so.

Just to make the parents and grandparents of this batch of 2012 grads feel even more timeworn, the school, in its infinite wisdom, began the ceremony by parading in the Satellite Beach graduating class of 2024—this year’s preschool class of five-year olds.

Presenting the Class of 2024

Are this guys cute or what?

Always being a math person, I quickly kicked my shoes off to have enough digits to count accurately and realized that we would be heading to our 55^th reunion when this crew of pintsize scholars heads off to college. Of course, this is all predicated on the Mayans being wrong about that “the world ends in 2012” thing, which by the way, I am banking on—heavily.

Seeing these peewee classmates run across the field, the thought struck me that they are now, even at their young age, choosing their second family. They are pounding their stake in the center of the town they will call home for their entire lives, a home they can always return to no matter where their happy feet and life take them.

After Doc McKinney received the good news from his cancer doctor (his medical specialty not his astrological sign), a bit of an impromptu celebration happened last Wednesday night at Chuck’s Seafood on South Beach. If you feel left out, don’t worry, and don’t read anything into it, except the below people are (a) ready to say yes to a party at the drop of a hat and (b) are all very unorganized because we spent half the night asking the question, “Hey, why didn’t anyone invite such and such?” To which, we all replied, “Yea, we should have invited them.”

I can assure you that a great time was had by all, as these photos so ably denotes.

          
Right to Left—Mike Stuhr, Kenny & Audrey Humphrey, Mark “Buckwheat” Walters, Cal & Tommie McDermid, Beannie and Rick Silverstein,  Teri Malcolm, Mitch Hilburn, Doc and his daughter Rebecca Moll, Bess McKinney, their son-in-law Mark Moll, my by far better half Joan and yours truly.

The Happy Crew

I think Ricky is happy, I wonder why?

Doc and Richard are all smiles

Oh no Kenny if we have Audrey and Joan together you and I are in trouble

Buckwheat, not sure Beannie and Ricky are buying it

Mitch and Teri look like they are having a good time

Doc how did Rebecca get so smart?  She must take after Bess

Yes, when one of our own is in need or a medical problem rears its ugly head, we do all go home, sometimes physically and others in mind only. Think about it. What happens when you receive the news of an illness or worse, a death of one of our “chosen family” members. Doesn’t your mind return you home?

That is what happened when I recently heard of Thom Burrell’s death. I was instantly transported back to 1966 standing at the bus stop with Glenn Burrell and Joey Chesser, and though my heart was sad about Thom’s passing, I had a warm smile on my face remembering the three of them. I was home.

So, with the many miles we have traveled and the twists and turns life has presented us with, it is good to know we are still here, still marching forward, a bit battered but still able to put one foot in front of the other and still able to go home, if only in our memories.

I went as far as I could, I tried to find a new face
There isn't one of these lines that I would erase
I lived a million miles of memories on that road
With every step I take I know that I'm not alone
You take the home from the boy, but not the boy from his home
These are my streets, the only life I've ever known,
who says you can't go home

I been there, done that and I ain't looking that
It's been a long long road
Feels like I never left, that's how the story goes

It doesn't matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you go
If it's a million miles away or just a mile up the road
Take it in, take it with you when you go,
who says you can't go home

It is hard to believe that just over two months ago, more than 200 of us “came home” for our own little family reunion, a.k.a. our 60^th birthday party. While I am on that subject, I know I promised a financial accounting after the party, and then my mom fell sick. So I put the accounting and everything else on the back burner. Now that I am back to work, the long awaited accounting has been completed. You will find the details at the bottom of this article. But for those of you who like to open your Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, here is a sneak peek—We made a profit! Read on for the details.

Now that I am opening my kimono (Wow! I hope you can get that image out of your mind) and showing you the real Richard Parker musicial turnons, may I present for your listening pleasure two more of my personal favorite fire-up tunes, again sung live by Bon Jovi and Jennifer Nettles, "It’s My Life" and "Baby Girl," both tucked neatly in a single video.

Click Here for Your Bonus Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3j5ZXSjNSAI&feature=related

It is obvious why "It’s My Life" is one of my favorites. It sounds more like an anthem than a song for this aging child of the sixties. How can you not love shouting these words from the rooftops as you pump a clenched fist into the air?

This ain't a song for the brokenhearted
No silent prayer for the faith departed
And I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd
You're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud

It's my life
It's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just wanna live while I'm alive

(It's my life)
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said, "I did it my way"
I just wanna live while I'm alive
'Cause it's my life

And don’t you just love the tie-in to “Frankie doing it his way?”

And the second song, "Baby Girl," just has so many things I love in life, all wrapped into one tight little ballad. A young person growing up and reaching for their dreams, as the ups and downs and curve balls of life break a parent’s heart, knowing all he can do is send money, support, and prayers and hope his child will not forget the values he taught.

"Dear Mom and Dad,
Please send money, I’m so broke that it ain’t funny.
I don't need much, just enough to get me through.
Please don’t worry 'cause I'm all right,
I’m playin’ here at the bar tonight.
This time, I’m gonna make our dreams come true.
Well, I love you more than anything in the world...
Love, Your baby girl."

Black top, blue sky, big town full of little white lies.
Well, everybody’s your friend: you can never be sure.
They'll promise fancy cars and diamond rings, all sorts of shiny things,
But, girl, you’ll remember what your knees are for.

Well, classmates, let me thank you for flying Memory Airlines today, taking you around the world, but always “bringing you back home.” We hope the next time your plans call for travel, you will again allow us to serve you, as we continue “Keepin’ the Spirit Alive.”

Richard Parker