When: May 2004
Where: Foothill Boulevard westbound between Highway 19 and Michillinda Avenue.
Who: My mother
Weather: Hot, dry
And so we have arrived at the end of middle school. The first time I heard this song, it was brand new and I hadn’t heard anything like it. Suddenly I had a feeling where things were going musically.
The second time I heard it was a few weeks later on the way to graduation. I’d brought my friend Chris Macquarrie as a guest and we arrived mid-song. I imagined us walking into the Santa Anita Church in slow motion to it. After a particularly awful rendition of “Drive” by Incubus I was out there with my classmates. It was over, I was going to Bosco.
I don’t know what it is about my memory that makes the first half of the year seem so colorful. I can remember sunsets with purple and green, and it’s possible I wasn’t imagining it, because many of my drawings from that time show the same thing. It was a good time to be fourteen. After graduation, my family, Chris and I went to Bella Italia to celebrate. The Lakers were playing, and Chris was not enthused. “We’re all Americans,” he said, missing the point. The Lakers wouldn’t win the playoffs this year either.
Next: The final goodbye (for now)