I don't know why, but I woke up this morning thinking about high school memories. I don't think much about high school. Suffice it to say, I had a MUCH better time in college. ;) (Hey, I was a late bloomer, okay?)
Anyway, my "first" copywriting gig took place in high school. I was a copy editor for the senior yearbook. I took all the piecemeal student boosters and senior quotes, articles and captions, and turned them from "so-so" or good, to great. I had my own feature - a lighthearted piece about the school cafeteria, and I interviewed some students who procured funny quotes for the occasion. I remember one of the more off-beat personalities of our class wrote, "Sometimes the meat moves and the chicken cackles, but as high school students we're used to the raw life."
Mr. Dowling, the teacher who coordinated the whole effort, wrote in my yearbook at the end of the year, "Dina, You were the hardest worker we had." It meant a lot to me then and I guess it still does. And I worked hard because, I really loved what I did and still do now. There was never a question that I WASN'T going to be a copywriter - I just always knew that advertising and writing were my bag. And here we are. But, there was something else about my experience as the yearbook copy editor, that made it a little unusual.
A young man in our school - Jimmy R. - died suddenly that year. He and a girl from the senior class (our class) were driving in bad weather and he skidded on ice and veered into oncoming traffic. The girl survived the crash with some injuries, but Jimmy died on the spot. So, tragedy and sorrow struck our school in the middle of what should have been the happiest, most carefree time of our lives.
I wasn't good friends with Jimmy, or his group of friends. They were the football players and cheerleaders, the kids who partied and drank every weekend - and I hung with the band geeks and drama club kids. And I guess from my perspective at the time, popular kids seemed like a big cliche, a ball of social pretense. I guess you could say that to nerdy kids like me, those people didn't seem real and didn't seem like they had much depth or substance to them. I'm not saying that was the case, I'm just saying that was my perspective. (Is it me or is this starting to sound like a John Hughes film?)
However, because I was the copy editor of the yearbook, and because I took what I did very seriously, I came to know my classmates on a much deeper level that year. In the last leg of yearbook production, about 80% of the students retracted their "senior quotes" (you know, lyrics to Free Bird and all the typical stuff kids include next to their senior photo) - and replaced them with heartfelt goodbyes and last words to their deceased classmate and friend, Jimmy R. I have never seen so many lyrics pulled from songs about death and loss. I had never before seen so much revealed about the friendships and bonds shared by the students at my school.
So, despite the deadlines working against me, I took each and every person's pain-filled words, scrawled on little pieces of ripped out notebook paper that they had stuffed into a submission box or slipped into a fellow yearbook editor's in the hallway, and quietly typed them into what would now be the yearbook dedicated to a young student who lost his life.
To this day, the sad songs stay fresh in my mind, and the last words to Jimmy linger on in my memory. "Butterflies are free to fly... high away... fly away... bye bye."
I don't know if anyone realized that I was the one who saw and felt their pain and transcribed it into a permanent memory. But I did. And because I was too young, stupid, and socially inept at the time to say anything, I think I'll say it now:
To all those in my high school who had to say goodbye to their friend Jimmy when we were just 17 years old, I am so sorry for your loss.