Out of the past: Dig those crazy sideburns

Sometimes your past jumps up and slaps you up side the head when you least expect it. That happened to me this week.

I was perusing Facebook as I always do, this time keeping an eye out for interesting recipes that have been popping up there lately. As I scrolled through the pages, out of nowhere, there I was. A younger me. A 17-year-old me in glorious black and white from 1971.

It was a yearbook photo of me in my DeKalb High School Band uniform, looking quite dapper with my tuba. Sousaphone to be more precise. Yes, I was a tuba player, and not too bad, although I doubt I’d be able to get more than a moose call out of one now. But, then ...

More than the uniform and tuba, I also had hair, much, much more hair than now, on top of my head. I think these days it’s migrated to my face. And I had sideburns that would make a Civil War general proud. Sideburns were in then. Elvis had big sideburns. Quentin Collins on TV had big sideburns (Google it). I had humongous sideburns.

To be honest, the stretch of skin in front of my ears haven’t seen the light of day since 1969, when I first started letting my sideburns expand. At this point, I’m not sure those areas ever will be exposed to the sun again.

One other thing struck me about that photo posted by John Moore, a friend from the band years and keeper of the DeKalb High alumni page on Facebook, was that I wished I was as “fat” as I was then. I’ve always been husky, plus-sized, fluffy, whatever you want to call it. However, it’s always been in stages, and while I was “fat” in high school, today that would be a nice size, although it still would be above the insurance/BMI tables’ “ideal” size.

I’ve concluded that instead of being overweight, I’m underheight. According to these weight tables, I should be 7-foot-11. I’d probably be willing to give up an appendage to be as “fat” as I was in high school. Actually, giving up a couple of appendages might be sufficient to achieve that goal.

Oh, and I was wearing black horn-rimmed glasses. Man, was I a fashion plate back then, looking like a young, dark-haired Barry Goldwater.

Anyway, it was a surprise to see the young, musical, completely clueless of what lay ahead version of me. What a difference 42 years make. The hair’s gone south, the waist has gone in every direction and the youthful, optimistic idealism of a 17-year-old has just gone. At that point, Watergate still was in the future, along with disco, the Reagan era, betamax, Desert Storm, Monicagate, Walkmen, home computers, the Internet, 9/11, reality TV and the Kardashians — all of which have served to jade that teenager’s outlook somewhat.

Of course, the personal aspects of life have helped balance all those outside influences, so there’s still some of that 17-year-old in this 58-year-old body, ... and, boy, has this middle-aged geezer stretched that body out of shape.

Still, it was nice to see the yearbook photo. It brought back some nice memories because those were fun times, to which any band member will attest. A lot of hard work, lots of practice sessions and rehearsals, but the rewards of some wonderful performances and lots of awards recognizing the band. Good times.

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Today marks 28 years since Samuel Eli Garrett arrived in the world. It’s hard to imagine so much time has passed since Kim and I were blessed with our son. Together, we just want to say happy birthday, Eli!