*A Walk Down Dream Street, Circa 1964

The is a response to another question (edited somewhat for local and personal references)asked by my Class of 1964 committee. Apparently this is walk down memory lane week. Not everything is political in this world, but a lot turns on that fact.

Today’s Question: When you were a student did you ever sit on the main entrance steps of our old high school and dream of your future?

Obviously not every question I intend to answer is as whimsical as the first one about the comparative merits of the Rolling Stones and Beatles. Today I am interested in the relationship between our youthful dreams and what actually happened in our lives. I will confess here, as this seemingly is a confessional age, that my returning to the High School Class of 1964 fold did not just occur by happenstance. A couple of years ago my mother, passed away. For a good part of her life she lived a stone’s throw from the school. You could see the back of the school from my grandmother’s house. As part of the grieving process, I suppose, I felt a need to come back to the old home town. To my roots and hers. As part of that experience I passed by the old high school. That triggered some memories that motivate today’s question.

If my memory is correct I had not be in my old home town for at least the pass 25 years and so I was a little surprised that the main steps of the high school were no longer there. You remember the steps, right? They led to the then second floor and were flanked by, I think, a couple of lions or some gargoyles. I can remember spending many a summer night during high school, along with my old pal Billy, the great track man and cross country runner who I am trying to reach, sitting on those steps talking about our futures. Now for this question I am only using the steps as a metaphor, so to speak. Your probably have your own ‘steps’ where you thrashed out your dreams. How did they work out?

A lot of what Billy and I talked about at the time was how we were going to do in the upcoming cross country and track seasons. (Remember those were the days when future expectations were expressed in days and months, not years.) Of course we dreamed of being world-class runners, as every athlete does. Billy went on to have an outstanding high school career. I, on the other hand, was, at best, a below average runner. So much for some dreams.

We spoke, as well, of other dreams then. I do not remember the content of Billy’s but mine went something like this. I wanted to be an educator (however vaguely defined at the time) and I also wanted to fulfill my grandfather’s dream for me of becoming a lawyer. Well, come hell or high water and through a very circuitous route I managed to do both of those. Put a check next to those dreams. I also had dreams for social justice, for working people to get a fair shake in this sorry old world. That, my friends, has, sorry to say, not turned out as expected. But enough. I will finish with this entry with an old expression from a Bob Dylan lyric. “I ‘ll let you be in my dream, if I can be in your dream.” Fair enough?