I got a book in the mail today about my old college called We Are Navarro. While my old college was part of my younger days in my hometown, the need to buy the book took on a deeper meaning for me:
My Dad taught there.
For about 35 years, actually (though closer to 40 as he went part time in his later years). My Dad taught state & local and national government classes. He was a long-time fixture at the school, and I grew up on campus. I once ate almost an entire bowl of coffee creamers out of the teacher’s lounge when I was five. I sat in his office and did homework during his night classes, wandering around campus when I was bored of studying. I worked with him to introduce SimCity to his class on Super Nintendos that the college bought and then later flew to Washington D.C. with him and the family when he won a teacher’s award for it. The faculty members always visited the house, so I grew up with them as well, knowing them all on a first name basis (something I struggled with, not knowing what to call them when I actually did become a student). I got all A’s in my Dad’s classes. Not because he was easy on me, but out of fear. I screwed up on a test, I heard about it over dinner or the weekend.
I found out my Dad was mentioned in the book, and so I ordered a copy. I saw old faces, friends, remembered a lifetime growing up on that campus, and how even recently just last fall, Jen and I walked the campus on a cool September night. My Dad was on page 52. I felt a rush of emotion and tears as I read through the pages. Not quite sad, but something deeper as I saw a part of my life in book form as I realized, perhaps more than most, that “I Am Navarro”. That school affected me deeper than most places ever will.
I heard recently that if you come from a small town that in order to really love it, you have to hate it first. And I think for a brief time or two, I did. When I left for San Diego in 2001, I felt “over” my life in Texas, as things had changed so much. When Dad passed in 2008 and I left our family home for what would be the last time, I thought that was truly the end of my life there. I returned once in 2009, and it felt more like a museum to me, a life that I used to be, and that I couldn’t return to.
And I didn’t return to Corsicana until 2014, and that was for my high school reunion. It was there that I reunited with so many people that I grew up, and felt the pride, and community, and friendship that I thought was “over” for me, but it really wasn’t. My friends and schoolmates restored my faith in a life that wasn’t “over” anymore. It was just different now, and I could find something of solace in that as well. Last year’s visit reaffirmed that my hometown will always be a part of my life, and all the things I’ve done now could never have been possible without that time there.
So tonight, I shed tears for Navarro, my friends, and my Father, remembering my childhood there, and an autumn night’s stroll with my fiancee a few short months ago.
I realize now that I’ve had a shift in my priorities, and the importance of “roots” and “legacy”. Someone recently told me that I’ve done enough to have filled three lifetimes, and perhaps there’s a truth to that. I love adventure, but I don’t need unnecessary fast pace. I save that for the moments that are worth it. I’ve relaxed in some ways. I don’t need dramatic spectacles, and I don’t need to discard friendships and burn bridges to prove some short-term point or over some superficial “slight”. And people are far too quick to make other people “disposable”. I’m not interested in this line of thinking. A “time out” does not mean “forever”. I was reminded of that with three friends in the last year that I haven’t seen in 10-20 years. We lost touch, we reconnected, and it was just picking up from last time.
I also realize that in a society of “extremes” everything is either “all or nothing”, which has caused me to step more out and away from some topics. It’s one of the biggest reasons that I never really discuss political or religious views. It’s not that I don’t have beliefs or opinions, I just don’t need to polarize my relationships with all of my various friends. Right now, my more prominent goals are: How can I help people, and how can I be more kind. Life’s too short to antagonize. Everyone deserves a fair shot at this thing called life, and it’s not my place to disrupt another’s journey. I’ve also removed a lot of “clickbait” sites to help me better reconnect with people. There’s a tinge of loss in the pioneered simplicity of the early days of the internet, something I’ve been researching in my spare time. I even found my old Geocities site, which was another unique online chapter of mine.
And perhaps it’s those “multiple lifetimes” that cause me to be more reserved these days. I’ve seen a lot, more than the stories that I love to share. And I certainly haven’t run out of things to do. Jen and I visited Utah a week ago on the grounds that we’ve never been, and that was enough incentive. We drove through St. George and saw a Dinosaur Discovery Site museum that was built over an in-progress dig. The locals apparently don’t like them due to the whole “evolution” thing, so I donated a few dollars and told them to “keep up the good work”. You have to defy convention sometime. It’s how we keep discovering. Jen and I continued our drive to a tiny trading post in Virgin, Utah where we petted tiny bossy horses that wanted carrots in a petting zoo. And then we continued on to Zion National Park, which I’ve seen enough rocks to last me a lifetime out here, but this view… was well worth the drive.
As always, those travel pics are found here.
I’m at an interesting crossroads of realizations and waiting for things to line up. Perhaps stepping back has been good for me. And I think perhaps my priorities are changing to where I am finding my own sense of peace, and that means shifts in interactions, and avoidance of stressors. And I’ve found some unusual affirmations. I ended up beating a fairly difficult video game last night, and it felt good. Despite some changes, I still have some skills that aren’t going away anytime soon. As Kevin Flynn once said: “It’s all in the wrists”, and those first and early days of Midway treated me well. All of these lifetimes still reside within one person. Thing is, I’m now ready to accept it all.
While I don’t think I’ll settle back in Texas anytime soon, I think my story there still has a few more things to say.
After all, if my Dad’s story can still continue on, so can mine.