Pirates Fight for Old Pine Tree High
For your Alma Mater dear
Pirates Fight for Old Pine Tree High
For victory is near
To old Pine Tree we’ll be loyal
Til the sun drops from the sky
Remembering until the end
Pirates fight, never die!
There’s a quote that I use often by Gary Thomas,
author of the books Sacred Marriage and Sacred Parenting, among
others. He says, as it relates to
parenting, “…the days are long and the years are short.” It’s true; but not just in parenting. It’s true in life. As I look at all the pictures and read all
the posts connected to the 30-year class reunion, I’m overwhelmed with emotion - joy, sadness, regret, love, and on and on I could
go. I regret that I was unable to
attend. But I cherish the memories and
friendship that are connected to these pictures from thirty years ago and now. I’m amazed at the beautiful transparency and
honesty with which posts are shared.
Posts dealing with some of life’s most challenging, difficult,
gut-wrenching issues – depression, suicide, pain and loss. All very real. All very raw.
I can’t help but think of the memories I have with two most recent
classmates that we’ve lost – Steve Brantley and Craig Russell. I played many years of baseball with and
against Steve and Craig both. Those were
special times. Steve was always bigger
than life – literally. Craig always
carried with him an air of confidence – almost cockiness – in all he did. They will be dearly missed, as well as those from
our class, who passed on before them.
Who would’ve guessed that Craig would’ve been here Friday night and then
gone a day later? Who knew that he’d
reached a place of helplessness and hopelessness? Who knew that Friday night would’ve been the
very last time for most to talk to him, touch him, hug him, help him? The truth is that there are times when we all
need help. For different reasons and at
different times, we each need help. We
need a friend. We need each other. I’m very appreciative of the vulnerability
with which many of you, my ’86 PTHS classmates, have shared that
vulnerability. We all have a story. Our stories are filled with joys and pains,
mountains and valleys, ups and downs. Each
story carries with it similarities to other stories and uniqueness as your
story. Each story important and valuable
and with a need to be heard. Because we
need to learn from each other. We’re
able to comfort and love and encourage others as their life stories intersect
ours. Those intersections may be frequent
or infrequent; regular or thirty years a part.
When they happen; however, is not as important as this: when they happen, they must be seen as
opportunities to be seized. Life
opportunities – divine appointments, if you will – to make a difference in
someone’s life who may need a kind word, a pat on the back, a helping hand, a
bear hug, a listening ear, or the voice of truth saying, “You’re valuable. You’re important. Your life matters and carries inherent
significance and meaning.” All of us, at
times, need that; and all of us, at a moment’s notice, need to be ready to give
it away. To do so means we must be
vigilant to watch, to listen, to pay attention to those in our path while there’s
time to do so. We only have right
now. Yesterday’s a fleeting memory
filled with lost opportunity. Tomorrow
is not promised or guaranteed. We only
have right now. Craig’s tragic passing
(and that of others like him) must serve as a neon flashing sign reminder that
this thing called life, at best, is hard and very, very brief. But it’s worth living. And if it’s worth living, my fellow
classmates, then it’s worth living to the fullest. Make every second count. Because your contribution to life, no matter
how big or small it seems, may be the difference maker to someone who is
watching you – your child, your co-worker, your friend of thirty years or the
waitress that messed up your order for the third time. Somebody needs you. I need you.
And you need me. We need each
other. So, take a risk. Ask the hard questions. Get your hands dirty. Live with no regrets. There's no doubt that it’ll be worth it in the end.
Thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings,
whether you know me well, remember me vaguely, or have no clue who I am. I’m a dad of four and a husband of almost 23
years just trying to do life with all that I got. Blessings, PTHS friends of the class of ‘86. I won’t miss the next reunion. Love and prayers to those of you hurting or in need. If I can help, I’m available. – John
