Prowling the sidelines once again

It was a warm Friday night in September and beneath a harvest moon to the east of a high school football stadium a farmer was working the fields in the dark, doing what the moon portended, harvesting, and I was walking the sidelines of a high school football game, taking photos, just as I did more than 50 years ago in college, and it was a huge grin. In addition, the experience brought back some memories. You see, this was the same field where, in high school, I played football.

Back then I was a pretty fair athlete in football, wrestling, and track. On the football team, I started on offense as a pulling guard and on defense as a linebacker. Slight anger issues caused me to be pretty good at the latter position, but it never really meant anything to me. Rather like now, I’ve never been truly invested in much of anything. It’s a character flaw, perhaps a failing. It explains my general lack of interest in many things, including sports, but this night was different. A walk on an old football field brought some memories and, let’s be honest, memory cuts both ways.

For many, attending high school is a lousy experience, one fraught with anxiety, insecurity, and pain, often thanks to the boorish behavior of others. It can be an extremely difficult time in one’s life, one best left in the past. I was a poor student and generally didn’t much care for what was being taught, however, sports and music kept my attention long enough to get me through. There were bullies in my class and bullies within the teaching ranks, but there were also beautiful friends and interesting teachers who encouraged us to be citizens of the world, to read, to be curious, and to be kind.

My good memories put me in mind of an old song I heard on the radio a few days prior to game night, a song from an off-Broadway show in 1960 called “The Fantasticks.” You all know the song, “Try To Remember.” It was originally sung by Jerry Orbach and has since been covered by many artists, including mid-1960s artists the Brothers Four and Ed Ames. “Try to remember the kind of September, When you were a tender and callow fellow.” Callow doesn’t even begin to describe the young man I once was.

Across the street to the south of the stadium is the city cemetery and a hundred yards from where I stood taking photos on that Friday night my girlfriend from high school and her parents are buried, near an old evergreen tree. I can still see her back in the day, sitting with the band during games as a first-chair flute player and all-around beautiful person, cheering on her idiot boyfriend and his team. Where she and her parents lie is a peaceful spot and one day I will join them and our reunion will be delightful, but not just yet. There still is much to do; people I wish to meet, places I’d like to see, feelings I’d like to explore.

Sorry. I didn’t expect all of this stuff to wash over me just because I visited my past for a couple of hours. Geez, I all but ran into myself. I wasn’t revisiting what Springsteen called “glory days,” as I’m hoping those are yet to come. Anyway, Autumn has arrived and September is ending. I hope it was a good month for you, one upon which you can reflect when snows arrive. Again, from the song: “Deep in December, it’s nice to remember, the fire of September that made us mellow.” Mellow indeed. May your October be extraordinary, and may all of the voices and old stories be sweet.

Kurt Ullrich lives in rural Jackson County. The Dubuque Telegraph Herald recently published a 60-page magazine of Kurt’s columns. The magazine can be purchased here