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Jan
26
2006
About two months ago, one of my Country Day School classmates sent out a flyer about our 50th reunion and some plans we are formulating for it. Attached to the flyer was a stickie note that said: “Bud, can I get a sentence or two from you about what CDS meant to you?”
I did not know whether to just pitch the flyer and note into the recycle bin or what. I put it on the floor beside my desk on the top of a couple of catalogs and food magazines. Yesterday, I was cleaning out the pile and came across the flyer and its attached note. Frankly, my first instinct was to pitch it.
I probably dwell too much and too long on the things that I did not like about my school and my place it in. I have written poems about some of this (“Training Ground” in Roots and Paths and “Forty-Fifth Reunion” in my upcoming book, Taking Stock). On one hand, I have resolved my issues and feelings from those times. On the other hand, what was was.
Instead of throwing the note away, I put it by my computer to look at while I did other work last night and this morning. My classmate (and friend) asked a good question: What did CDS mean to me? Below is the answer I sent this morning. In it, Mr. Reeves was our music appreciation teacher. The Masque is the drama society where I acted in a play each year. The News is the weekly newspaper. And instead of playing sports (which I really hated), I always got myself appointed manager of the team, a position revered in college, but thought populated by sissies at CDS.
What CDS meant to me:
I gained a lifelong love of the arts through Mr. Reeves, the Masque, trips to the St. Louis Symphony youth concerts, photography for The News and the yearbook. Even though I could not write worth a hoot in those days, something must have registered given my publications as an academic and now as a poet. And I learned how to keep records and the score in every sport offered!
I did not know whether to just pitch the flyer and note into the recycle bin or what. I put it on the floor beside my desk on the top of a couple of catalogs and food magazines. Yesterday, I was cleaning out the pile and came across the flyer and its attached note. Frankly, my first instinct was to pitch it.
I probably dwell too much and too long on the things that I did not like about my school and my place it in. I have written poems about some of this (“Training Ground” in Roots and Paths and “Forty-Fifth Reunion” in my upcoming book, Taking Stock). On one hand, I have resolved my issues and feelings from those times. On the other hand, what was was.
Instead of throwing the note away, I put it by my computer to look at while I did other work last night and this morning. My classmate (and friend) asked a good question: What did CDS mean to me? Below is the answer I sent this morning. In it, Mr. Reeves was our music appreciation teacher. The Masque is the drama society where I acted in a play each year. The News is the weekly newspaper. And instead of playing sports (which I really hated), I always got myself appointed manager of the team, a position revered in college, but thought populated by sissies at CDS.
What CDS meant to me:
I gained a lifelong love of the arts through Mr. Reeves, the Masque, trips to the St. Louis Symphony youth concerts, photography for The News and the yearbook. Even though I could not write worth a hoot in those days, something must have registered given my publications as an academic and now as a poet. And I learned how to keep records and the score in every sport offered!
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