Scrolling On

As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)

By Ronald N. Guy Jr.

As any parent of a high school student who is involved in a theater production will tell you, it is an intense experience.  The lines.  The choreography.  The preparation of the actors and the set.  The daily afterschool practices.  It is an intense experience.  Add in potential life variables – like a sore throat ahead of a musical (gasp!) – and you have an incubator for parental anxiety. 

Usually, like most things in life, everything works out just fine.  That is not an immediate tonic for the anxiety, though.  Watching your kid perform covers the gamut of emotions.  It is absolutely excruciating in process; there is no ability to influence, much less control, the situation, which leaves mom and dad with the worst of all strategies – hoping for the best.  But then again, is there a better bumper sticker for parenthood than “Hoping for the Best”?  Other than “Clinging to the Frayed Ends of Sanity” or “Can I Get a Drink Up in Here?”, of course.

The last show brings peace.  The mind calms and joy swells without the fear of another performance.  Not long after the final bow, curtain drop and after-show congratulations and mingling, the emotional enormity of the end sets in.  There are no more practices.  No more shows.  Months of preparation and high-intensity performances have reached a natural, if abrupt, conclusion.

It is a rough transition – for parents, yes, but particularly for the kids.  The time, the energy and the emotional investment are undeniable.  Then there’s the experience of the show – all involved performing in unison to create a magical artistic expression.  It is an incredible emotional peak.  Then it is over.  There are videos, pictures, mementos and memories, of course, but that show, with those kids, in that moment along the time continuum will never be again.  Don’t be sad it’s over, be grateful that it happened.  Sage wisdom.  If only it was only that easy.  The mind doesn’t easily bow to the words. 

This is a lame transition.  It doesn’t measure up to the thud families feel after a school play concludes an epic run.  But as a sports fan (and a non-actor and a cringy karaoke singer at best), the Super Bowl is my best comp.  It is the pinnacle of a slow and steady build of the nation’s most popular sport.  Hope abounds in August.  Real contests begin in September.  The legitimate contenders are known when the cool air of fall arrives.  Injuries happen.  Inexplicable outcomes influence playoff standings.  Some teams surprise, others underwhelm.  Thanksgiving.  Christmas.  New Years.  It gets serious, captivating, enthralling.  Hearts are broken.  Dreams get bigger.  And finally, two teams take the world’s grandest stage for a final duel. 

The clock ticks to zero.  Confetti falls.  A trophy and MVP are handed out.  The game is reviewed – on the net, the radio, at the watercooler…everywhere.  The context within NFL history – for the team and individual players – is pondered.  The rush is intense.  The immediate aftermath is consuming.  But by Wednesday the following week, save for the fanatics of the winning team, it’s over.  By Sunday of the subsequent week, the void of the NFL’s departure after its annual and incomparable crescendo is undeniable.

But life quickly moves on.  Pitchers and catcher report to spring training.  March Madness arrives.  April introduces The Masters and the NBA and NHL playoffs.  And then, in the blink of an eye, the NFL returns in September.

Individual human feelings are inconsequential to the unstoppable scroll of life - an inconvenient truth in magical moments that we wish would linger, but therapeutic after tough losses, unfortunate life events or for any experience best forgotten.  Regardless, nothing is static.  Something ends, something begins.  For good or ill.  For good and ill.  Memories, however, travel untouched across time.  Accumulate enough, though, and the joy of yesterday can become tinged with melancholy.  The trick – good advice from a friend, particularly in mid-life - is to keep moving with the scroll.  Carry the past, but don’t allow it to burden the on-going journey.  Embrace the next game, the next season and the next musical – the next chance for something special.