Yearbook
When I was young, probably early teens, my dad was the Royal Palm Yearbook Sponsor. He was in charge of the FC kids on the yearbook staff. Every spring break, he would spend a handful of nights sans sleep, bonding with the editors over junk food and quirky last minute articles. Then, yearbook revelation day would come! With fanfare fitting a king, the yearbook would arrive, and cheers and shouts would flood Hutchinson. Little thirteen year old Emma thought that was pretty much the coolest thing in the world. I take that back. little thirteen year old Emma thought that was the second coolest thing. The coolest thing was when my dad trusted ME with my very own key to the yearbook room. It was an old key, and had the remains of a tinker bell sticker on it. That key gave me so much power. So much independence. So much swag. With that key, we ruled campus during the summer: William, Cooper, Elizabeth, Maris, and me. We searched campus high and low to find the secret tunnel. We played every form of billiards and pingpong known to man. We roamed the streets of Temple Terrace. And most importantly, we had our very own clubhouse in the upstairs of the COLLEGE student center, equipped with really cool apple computers, thrift store couches, white boards, chalkboards, yearbooks, and the mysterious Red Room. How could a summer hang out be any better? We read, imagined, played cards, drew, brainstormed, and just straight up did hood rat things.
Needless to say, I have sort of idolized the Royal Palm since middle school. I used to worry about how things would go once I was at FC. What if I tried out for yearbook staff, and I wasn't good enough? What if I didn't make the cut? What if my dad didn't think I was a good enough writer or designer or photographer to be on the staff? That would probably be the end of the world. I would not be a good enough person.
Today, I just kind of thought about all this. About how big a deal yearbook has been in my life. About how I THOUGHT my life was going to turn out. About the little practical jokes God plays on us all.
Today I am excused from classes so that I can scramble to finish proofing the yearbook. I might be working all day on it with the editors. I'm not an editor, I didn't want to be an editor. I actually didn't even really want to be on yearbook this year. I tried out, and then decided it wasn't worth the effort. And then Katie begged me to do it. So, I got roped in. And I have been writing about an article a week. I have actually enjoyed it, and it's kind of cool that there is an Angelo working on the yearbook again. Back in middle school, I thought that I would want to be an editor for yearbook. I thought that my dad would be in charge of it. I thought that it would be a big part of my life. Now, I am spending one day finalizing the yearbook. I'm a mere peon in the eyes of the hardcore yearbookers. And this is exactly how I want it.
It's funny how your life doesn't turn out the way you know it will. What is super important to you at one point may turn out to be peripheral. A book is just a book is just a book. A room is just a room is just a room. But I have a feeling the yearbook room will always be sacred in my mind. It represents childhood. and shenanigans. and imagination. and friends. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go spend all day in the yearbook room. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I will be in the YBR before I move to cali. :)
Needless to say, I have sort of idolized the Royal Palm since middle school. I used to worry about how things would go once I was at FC. What if I tried out for yearbook staff, and I wasn't good enough? What if I didn't make the cut? What if my dad didn't think I was a good enough writer or designer or photographer to be on the staff? That would probably be the end of the world. I would not be a good enough person.
Today, I just kind of thought about all this. About how big a deal yearbook has been in my life. About how I THOUGHT my life was going to turn out. About the little practical jokes God plays on us all.
Today I am excused from classes so that I can scramble to finish proofing the yearbook. I might be working all day on it with the editors. I'm not an editor, I didn't want to be an editor. I actually didn't even really want to be on yearbook this year. I tried out, and then decided it wasn't worth the effort. And then Katie begged me to do it. So, I got roped in. And I have been writing about an article a week. I have actually enjoyed it, and it's kind of cool that there is an Angelo working on the yearbook again. Back in middle school, I thought that I would want to be an editor for yearbook. I thought that my dad would be in charge of it. I thought that it would be a big part of my life. Now, I am spending one day finalizing the yearbook. I'm a mere peon in the eyes of the hardcore yearbookers. And this is exactly how I want it.
It's funny how your life doesn't turn out the way you know it will. What is super important to you at one point may turn out to be peripheral. A book is just a book is just a book. A room is just a room is just a room. But I have a feeling the yearbook room will always be sacred in my mind. It represents childhood. and shenanigans. and imagination. and friends. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go spend all day in the yearbook room. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I will be in the YBR before I move to cali. :)
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I know ~exactly~ what you mean and how you feel about yearbook! It was the same experience for me...just a few decades before you! :)