For the adult who is charged with the job of teaching a teenager how to drive this milestone means grey hairs, anxiety attacks, a drastic jump in insurance payments, oh, and some positive things too.
When I was sixteen years old, a series of poor choices resulted in my getting arrested. The punishment designated by the court was 100 hours of community service, overseen by Reverend William T. Federici of First Congregational Church. Unphased and unrepentant, I showed up (late, of course) for my first day of service straight from the beach: barefoot, sand covered, and bathing suit clad. Rev. Federici said not a word about what brought me to his office, and set about drawing me a diagram detailing the direct connection between the mind and the heart. He explained something called “the heart of the perfection of wisdom,” and advised that I needed not just to open, but to empty the negative thoughts cluttering my mind. For a disaffected teenager, it was quite a concept.
My daughter is seven and a half years old. We’re at a half-way point. Seven years removed from babyhood, seven years away from life as a full-blown teenager. I was remarking the other day that there’s really not a lot of excitement going on right now in our lives. I feel like being seven puts
It looks like mine will be the final installment in High School Throwback week. I still haven’t gotten caught up in reading everyone else’s posts, but so far they look great, judging from the photos. Unfortunately, I don’t have in my possession any high school photos, and I didn’t have time to ask around for