Do-Overs

The scene unfolding in front of us was grisly, yet we sat catatonic, frozen in dreadful expectation of what was about to happen. The year was 1998 and I had asked a friend to join me in watching the new Tom Hanks movie, “Saving Private Ryan.” We’d been sitting motionless for well over two hours, with each new plot development drawing us deeper into the movie. And the one we were currently viewing engulfed us even more.

At this point, American Soldiers were stumbling through another bombed-out building when German soldiers sneaked up a shaky staircase to attempt a surprise attack. When the creaking boards gave away the attackers, the Americans opened fire, killing most of the Germans, save one. The American's defense manuver depleted their ammunition and allowed the surviving German soldier to charge into the room.

After an agonizingly long hand-to-hand battle, a lone Jewish-American soldier (played by Adam Goldberg) wound up beneath the German assailant, the sharp point of the German's long bayonet now bearing down on the American's chest. In the end, the American lost his life. And in those last fleeting seconds, the American pleaded, "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!", as if to somehow change his attacker's mind.

There was no going back. There were no second chances. That young, American soldier, regardless of how sincerely he begged for another chance, another try, received none. The end came all too soon. The moment was gone - and so was the soldier’s life.

Wow! How breathtakingly poignant was that scene! How much would the soldier have given for another few seconds, another chance? Much less tragic, but no less absolute, was the time that we invested in our formative years in Rison. The time that we had seemed endless, but now it's gone - long gone. Hopefully, none of us experienced anything like that awful scene in "Saving Private Ryan." But, there were times that, given the chance, we might rework. Personally, there were a few times that I would "do-over," a few moments to re-think given the chance - some private and some public. Only this time, I’m pretty sure - in some cases - that I'd make different decisions. And, I’m sure the outcomes would be dramatically more purposeful.

For one, I would have told my parents how much I appreciated their hard work and the efforts they expended to provide a good home for my brother and me. I don't ever recall telling them that I was aware that money was short. I would have helped if I'd at least acknowledged it. I never said that I appreciated having a warm, loving family. There were hundreds of kids then and even more now that would die for such a home, or at least a two-parent household. And, some did die. Some still do today - every day. I wish I had a do-over for those moments.

I'd love to have shown my Grandparents much more love and appreciation than I did. How can we convince teens how important this is? Sometimes I see the pain in Mom's face when she misses her grandchildren and I distinctly remember being "too busy" to visit Granny and Pa. They always welcomed my brother and me, cherishing the few minutes that we’d spend and dreading the moment we’d announce that we were leaving. But their lonliness and requests always fell on our deaf, adolescent ears. I wish I could get a do-over with my Granny and Pa.

I'd tell the teachers at RHS that they were wonderful, even if sometimes they weren’t. How much would they have appreciated a simple "you’re doing a great job of teaching.” How hard would it have been to say “thanks for spending the extra time grading tests and preparing lessons, because I know you don't get paid much - certainly not enough to put up with a slacker like me." I'd volunteer to help them somehow, some way of showing appreciation. That'd be a great do-over.

Admittedly, I'd also probably skip the whole athletic scene. Well, maybe. I don't really know for sure, but I look back now with the admission that I just wasn't much of an athlete and, frankly, I'm not sure the effort was worth the outcome. I probably could have spent that time more wisely. I often wish now that I'd taken band. I liked music, but I guess I foolishly thought that band wasn't cool enough. Today, instead of a deteriorating football jacket (10 sizes too small), I'd have something really tangible to show for my efforts, like perhaps an aging trumpet that I could still play. So, yes, come to think of it, I'd probably do that memory over too.

Finally, the biggest do-over: Love, or at least my foolhardy attempt at it. Gratefully, I spent little time chasing the “love of a lifetime” while in school. Sure, I had "crushes" or infatuations, didn’t we all? It actually wasn’t until after high school that I ran head-long into a serious relationship, one that had life-altering consequences.

We thought nothing of dating relationships at the time. Most young people dated then. It was the norm. But, was it safe? Not necessarily. Like daring to trek across a frozen lake, I could hear the ice cracking beneath my feet, but foolishly forged ahead. I followed my youthful heart and ignored my head and the results of investing in something I had no chance of finishing. Eventually, I fell in.

It's scary to realize now how little we knew about relationships, how to manage emotions, how to evaluate the realities of serious dating. I think I’d use a “do over” to forego that level of dating – at least until I had a better idea of what serious dating looked life, felt like and resulted in. For that kind of investment, I think I would save it and savor it for the "me that would come to be."

But, do-overs don’t happen often. And, even if they did, would we have the guts to change things? Because we can't re-do our past, the best that we can do is to learn from it and move forward. I love the years we spent together at RHS. There were some times that I’d re-do, it’s true. But, I wouldn’t omit those years, good or bad, for anything in the world. They formed the fabric of our future lives and the legacy that we leave behind.

Rock on, Wildcats!