15 Years Later

So how do you put down a reflection in writing over a project like this?  After all the hours of writing, meeting over wings, editing, recording podcasts and publishing very real heartfelt thoughts and feelings…you start with some stats, I guess.

When we started creating 15 Years Later, I had nine years left in my teaching career.  I had seven stadiums to visit to complete the baseball stadium tour.  I had never written an entry for a blog, never recorded or edited a podcast.  I had never tried my hand at stand-up comedy, and my band didn’t even have its present lineup.  

Things are different now.

It was March 31^st, 2021.  Former student Mike Whildin and I did something I’d never done before.  We met to catch up fifteen years after he graduated.  I distinctly remember a slightly skinnier version of him in my classroom those many years before.  Usually with a smile on his face, either laughing at me, with me or because of something I did or said.  Or just being an ass.  This adult version walked into BWW showing a similar smile and delivered a grown man’s handshake and simply said, “How ya doing, Larsen,” and here we are three and a half years later.

I think my favorite reaction from people after having read this blog is, “I feel like I got to know you better.”  We’ve both heard this from several people in our own individual lives and I think it means that we delivered on the promise of being open and honest while writing this blog together.

The project really did start out with a simple idea.  Tell fun stories about the similarities we found in our lives that day.  Describe a similar love of baseball, performing on stage, teaching, and family relationships. 

A former student, remembered for being a fun member of the classroom and a former teacher, remembered for creating a fun classroom.  We would tell our individual stories that begin with unique origins, but end with the same themes.  Some jokes along the way.  And a planned adventure to bring it to a conclusion.

But each one of us was carrying some stress, hidden behind happy faces.

It didn’t come up right away because this was a high-spirited reunion that we had both looked forward to.  And the commitment to writing all of this was an exciting creative endeavor.  Who would think to wreck that vibe by bringing up negative stuff? 

But as we continued to meet and plan this thing out, two truths surfaced.  Mike was caught in a years-long, seemingly endless circle with a girl and I was struggling with frustration in my work life so large that I was thinking about resigning. 

I’ll spare you from rereading the details on those two issues.  They’re buried in the volumes of this blog somewhere between baseball and childhood stories.  I’ll even do the unthinkable and make a long story short.  Mike got past the girl and I still have the job.  And we are both better for it.

But I can’t have you finish my last entry for 15 Years Later without highlighting the outstanding merits of this experience for each of us. 

As Mike pointed out, he thought of me in a positive light when he was in high school.  One who helped him get past some self-doubt and begin to find his voice.  This time, as we talked through his 7 Circles of she-who-will-not-be-named, I was the last nudge he needed to break out of that circle and shuffle on down the road.  That’s how you land a plane.

What Mike did for me was remind me at the lowest point of my career that the adults I deal with for my job are nowhere near as important as the students in my room.  I was looking for a reason to quit or a reason to stay, but I was looking in the wrong place. 

Stupidly focusing on initiatives that I disagreed with and mandates I found contradictory to my philosophy, I was caught in a circle of my own.  I had forgotten to look at the impact I have on the lives of those who experience my classroom.

It was staring me in the face across a bar table filled with wings, celery, bleu cheese and my favorite beer the entire fucking time.  And it had a familiar dumbass smile that I had seen many years before.  Sometimes laughing at me, sometimes laughing with me.

So a project started with two people hiding some inner struggles.  Both happy to commit to something fun and creative for a change from darker corners of their minds.  Not only did the project bring out the ugly truths organically, it squashed them.  Wings and Beer for the Win.

But that ain’t all, kids.  We also decided to push each other. 

I heard Mike’s story about breaking up with stand-up comedy and encouraged him to get back up there one more time, so we both did it.  I had always wanted to, but never had the guts for it.  I was hilarious, but the crowd just didn’t get me.  Mike looked like an irritated seasoned pro.  And also, some weird guy played a flute.

We joined an international writing competition.  We each got different prompts and had forty-eight hours to create a fictional short story.  We traded calls and texts all weekend, talking each other through plots and characters.

Mike has come out and supported the band on multiple evenings.  He stays until the end and bullshits with the band after.  We all love it.

With Mike’s encouragement, I went out of my way to visit my precious Aunt Kitty.  What an angel in my life.  Boy, I thought she looked old when I was a kid.  I might have gotten a little misty when I walked out that door.

And Mike got to write an excellent entry titled, “The Legend,” which The Legend himself was able to read before his time ran out.  Another beautiful reward from this initially silly adventure.

Wings and Beer for the Win.

So I sign off today with these last few stats for you.  I have six years left in that classroom after this semester is done.  You’d better believe those last six years will be filled with laughs, encouragement, and the Art of Teaching.

Two nephews of my co-writer are presently in that classroom, by the way.  They’re taking a beating in there.  A generation later, but jackasses none the less.  Sometimes laughing at me, sometimes laughing with me.

And I have zero stadiums left to visit.  From a little boy playing tee-ball with a cap too big for his head, to a young teenager firing fastballs to his grandfather on a little strip of lawn in Detroit, to a grown man watching a game in Baltimore with his friends.  Taking a moment to whisper the word “Timbo” and hearing a faint “You still got it buddy” on the wind. 

Thanks for reading, people.  I hope you’ve gotten some joy out of this.  If you’re looking for me, I’ll be somewhere laughing and playing the piano.  Now go find your wings and beer. 

Trust me.

Tim Larsen

March 31, 2021 (Hazy IPA) – Jan 7, 2025 (Glass of Garnacha)