Disoriented

Orientation.

Every July, over a span of 3 weeks, groups of anxious 17/18-year-olds and their families descend on the 'burg and learn...well, I'm not exactly sure what they learn.  Because I didn't go here.  But whatever it is, they do it in circle formation, sitting outside, with an overly upbeat college kid in a maroon and orange polo shirt directing them.

While we are a mere 3 days into orientation for this year, ProMo and I are already grumbling about how all the lunch places downtown are crowded and how it's too soon to be inundated with students.  This alone could make me grumpy but as I was walking back from lunch today, I recalled something that I already knew, but served as the latest in a stream of reminders that time is marching along more quickly than I would like.

They were born in 1993.

Me circa 1993 - when the current freshmen were born.

 Flannel shirt? check.

To my younger readers, this may not be a big deal.  But to my contemporaries who may not work in a school-type environment, chew on this...

I had just gotten used to the fact that the students I've taught for the past couple of years were born in the late 80's and didn't know who the band Duran Duran is or understand my obsession with them.

Duran Duran? Hubba hubba.

Now I'm hit with a group that was born AFTER the heyday of not just Michael Jackson and Duran Duran, but New Kids on the Block, MC Hammer, Guns n Roses, The Cure, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Nirvana.

Nirvana!!  Forget the 80's...most of the 90's is unmemorable for this crew.

Chalk it up to the latest reminder of my age that has happened in the very short time since we got back from Switzerland.  It all started with, of course, my birthday in the end of June.  Not everyone cares or even thinks about their birthday.  Some don't even celebrate it. 

This is not my world.  

My birthday is a date that I have always looked forward to.  Not because I had fabulous, grand parties as a kid.  (Actually, because of my summer birthday I never got the cupcake party in school and I was usually either out of town or most of my friends were.)  

No, I loved it because it was all. about. ME!  I cherished it, loved it and held it on such a pedestal that I gave it a name.

Stelabration!

The original Stelabration

The start of a new tradition in B'more...Stelabration, Camden Yards style (my name's on there somewhere)

Oh, I still love it.  But for the first time, I felt the slightest sense of dread that I hadn't felt before.  Not at 30, like I thought I would.  But at 37.  All this despite the fact that everyone tells me I don't look my age and I still get carded in bars and restaurants.  The truth is, whether or not I look it, I am...it. 

37, that is.

I drowned my sorrows - literally - by having a backyard BBQ and (inflatable) pool party attended by some very cool people...the CEBs (plus a couple of G's).  Average age: 23.  The song "No Diggity" comes on my iPod.  "Ooo...I love this song," I reminisce as I wade in my pool and sip my cold beverage. "It was popular when ProMo and I started dating!" The closest CEB replies,  "Oh yeah, I was in, like 3rd or 4th grade!"

Thanks.

The next, slightly more subtle reminder was when we went down to Hilton Head over the 4th of July weekend.  My family has been going there almost every summer since I was 6 or 7 and we always went about the same time of year (somewhere around my birthday and/or the 4th). 

One of the beautiful, wonderful things about Hilton Head is that no matter how popular it gets, it never builds up too much.  Because of this, and the uniqueness of the island itself (a mix of dense forest, spanish moss, lagoons and beaches), every trip down there brings me back to my youth.  From walking on the same great paths to Harbor Town, to chilling on our straw mats on the beaches, to playing tennis, to seeing the myriad of minivans from Ohio...not much has changed. 

Stelabration, Hilton Head-style. We still own this timeshare and I'm pretty sure this table is still in there.

That is, until I see that the people my age now have kids, and those kids are experiencing those same summers that I did. No, it's not 1987, it's 2011.  I'm not the one doing the cannonballs off of the diving board, I'm the one shooting the kids the evil eye and sighing loudly.

Ah, youth.

Which brings me to last weekend when we went to NYC.  Most people assumed we were "escaping" or partying, but in actuality, we spend most of our time catching up with our old city and visiting good friends.  One of the best things about having lived there is the fact that when we go back, we don't need to worry about hitting any tourist traps, we can just focus on enjoying the city like locals. 

We stayed with one of our closest friends (who is one of the rare people who can say he was roommates with both ProMo and myself) and spent most of the weekend eating, drinking, talking and laughing just like the old days.  "Doesn't it seem like you lived here just yesterday?" our old roomie asked. "Yes, but it was 12 years ago," was ProMo's prompt reply.

Really? 12 years ago?

Really.

"The REAL Three's Company" My roomies and me...12 years ago.

It doesn't seem like that long ago that I was training for marathons in Central Park, going to happy hour at Bull's Head, and enjoying fresh Italian food a little too much.

But it was. A really long time ago.

And...that brings me back to orientation.  As I walked by yet another circle of orientation games, I studied their faces and picked up more than a hint of the freshmen-to-be checking each other (and their orientation leader) out. 

Further down the Drillfield, I walked by a couple of parents - identifiable by their free "Ask Me About My Hokie!" reusable tote bags - and looked at them a little more closely.  As I did, I realized that many of them looked like they could be my age.  Or at the very least my sister's age. And I realized I was most likely (much) closer in age to them than the shiny-faced new crop of students.

Disoriented? Well, to quote my younger selves...

Right on.
Totally.
Word.
Fo shizzle.
Mos def.