My niece is in 7th grade and plays flute in the school band, and last night was the Oltman Jr. High Winter Band Concert. Oltman was where my siblings and I served the junior high terms of our K through 12 scholastic endeavors, and now 33.3% of my sister's offspring are there learinin' it up just as we did many years ago.
I immediately noticed something when the band played that the rest of my family did as well: in the percussion area playing a fistful of sleigh bells was an exact replica of me when I was in 7th grade. To a T. Well, other than the fact that he wasn't playing a tuba. It was very strange. He had the perpetually sleepy look on his face. The bowl cut in disguise. My eyebrows. My nose. My mouth. My chin. My pudginess. The subtle random goofball mannerisms.
7th and 8th grade were by far my most awkward academic years. I was a shy, pudgy little kid that loathed the bus ride to Oltman, knowing it meant I was going to spend 7 hours of my day there wishing I was at home in my room with my guitar and Garbage Pail Kids. I wanted to go give him a hug and show him what a handsome ladies man he was going to be in 18 years (ha ha!)
I am going to write him an imaginary letter that I wish I could give to him and let him know what he's in store for. Because if he looks just like me, that means he's going to do everything just like me, right? Wrong, but just roll with me, here.
Without further ado, here is "An open letter to an exact replica of me when I was in 7th grade":
Dear Exact Replica of Me When I was in 7th Grade,
This is you from the future. 18 years into the future to be exact. I am here to give you some words of advice and wisdom:
Take it easy practicing those sleigh bells when Dad is sleeping. Remember to be respectful of the fact that he works nights and your bedroom is right next to his.
Don’t skip any lessons, and spend more time practicing rather than playing along to tapes of sleigh bell music. Listen to Peter at your sleigh bell lessons, he is a nice, wise man and knows his shit.
Don't just try and use water to cure bedhead. Use some of Mom's hair goop.
Lay off the mint chocolate chip ice cream and Nick at Night tv.
You know Dad’s coin collection in the basement? Don’t cash it in and spend it on candy and slime. Leave it alone.
I’m not going to pinpoint any particular events, but chances are Mom and Dad weren’t born yesterday and know what you’re doing.
Take better care of your KISS posters, and buy a few extra of the Empire State Building one that Tina stocks at In Concert. Those are going to be worth a lot of money. Take care of all of that stuff, or you’ll spend a lot of money on Ebay replacing it.
Girls don’t bite. Talk to them.
Save your money. Don’t spend it all on sleigh bells.
Don’t go spending 10 grand to get an MCSE degree that you’re not even going to use.
Be careful when dealing with females. Trust me on that one.
If anyone at school says mean things to you, find out where they live and put a flaming bag of dog shit on their front step.
Keep in touch with your best friend, or when you reach your 20’s you’ll never see him again and wonder what happened to him.
Don’t smoke in the tool shed. Dad is going to catch you.
Wash that jean jacket a little more frequently. Don’t wait until it smells.
That’s about it for now. I hope to see you at all future band concerts rocking away on those sleigh bells and watching how you’re coming along. If you ever run into any problems, just take out this letter and read it – I hope it helps.
Sincerely,
You when you’re 31
