Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
Join us, please.
When I mentioned Earth, Wind & Fire to my love as a possible choice of music this morning, she responded, “Great, middle school music.” If you knew her, you would know that she was gently teasing me about my age; but since you don’t, I’ll go with the explanation that she was pointing out that EW&F would be the music I was listening to in middle school (which would be right).
But my years of middle school didn’t involve as much listening to music as I would have liked and her comment got me thinking about what was going on in those years from roughly 1971 through 1974—essentially starting with the debut of All in the Family and ending with the resignation of Richard Nixon. On the local stage, my first year of middle school coincided with integration in my Louisiana school district and my moving from a well-cared-for school that I could walk to in under 10 minutes to taking a bus for a good half hour or so to arrive at a building that suffered from years of neglect (as it had been the local black high school the previous 30 years). On the biological side of things (I know now), the prefrontal cortex part of the brain (which makes up almost 17% of that organ) is exploding and developing and setting patterns that have long- and short-term consequences. It’s that part of the brain, remember, that is one of the later to develop and deals with empathy, judgment, relationships, self-awareness, planning, and that sort of stuff. It is, frankly, what most contributes to what we call personality.
Thinking back on the topic of what I might have learned in middle school, I would have to focus on a sort of amorphous group of things that probably have less to do with actual knowledge and more to do with character and life skills. School itself was tumultuous (integration, hormones, etc.). My two closest friends were Benji and Jacky—neither of whom are alive today, the former from a car wreck in high school and the latter from a drug overdose not long after that—and I was known principally for my speed, my cutting sarcastic attitude, my love of words, and my very short fuse when it came to physical confrontation. This was also the period of time I first fell in love (with the beautiful and unattainable Kelly Martinez), learned to dance (poorly, but enthusiastically), discovered and developed a deep appreciation for the joys of learning, first tasted the distilled version of peer pressure and personal betrayal, and developed the terrible sartorial sense that plagues me to this day.
In a visceral way, these were also the years when innocence was truly lost, at least for me. To a certain extent paralleling what was going on in society as a whole: war protests, social upheaval, race riots, political demagoguery, and the public failures of our government. It was also during those years that I learned to appreciate knowledge; I learned the pain of adolescent heartbreak and the true nature of a humility born of failure; I learned that adults in authority could be wrong and that, like kids, some were better than others; I learned to appreciate silence and being alone; and, I learned—truly for the first time—that I was but a tiny, insignificant speck in a vast and confusing world. I know for sure I didn’t learn everything I needed to know in middle school, but I figured out enough to make it to junior high in one piece.
As I sit writing this morning, there is a cold fog that has settled over my neighborhood and from my patio I can hear the buzzing of streetlights down the street and the sounds of a small town waking for the day. If ever there was a metaphorical setting for taking stock of my middle school years, this is certainly the place. I know the fog will clear and I know enough to expect a day of intellectual challenges and small-scale confrontations and I know enough to say that this day is pregnant with potential that is mine for the taking. And, if I learned nothing else from those formative years, I learned the value of hope, the preciousness of love, and the fragility of a quiet, contemplative morning.
Cheers everyone and I do hope you have a wonderful Friday the 13th and an even better weekend.
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Friday’s Lagniappe
This week’s highlight from The Bitter Southerner is “The Difference Between Happiness and Joy” by Jennifer Kornegay with photographs by Matthew Coughlin.
“Seventeen months ago, Lisa Thomas-McMillan and her husband Freddie opened a restaurant called Drexell & Honeybee’s in Brewton, Alabama. You’ll find the usual Southern favorites on the menu, but you won’t find any prices. You’ll walk away with a full belly — and a fuller soul.”
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Grab your coffee or tea and join us, please.
What's on your mind this morning?