I’ve spent many hours in the last week ripping apart old yearbooks and scanning them into my computer. The reasons for doing this are many fold.

First of all I am in a purging phase. I like seeing how much I can do without by cutting down on my physical possessions.

Second; yearbooks get old and rot like anything else so why not preserve them in a digital medium?

Third; it is fun to share photos on social media with old classmates and observe the fashion and hairstyles of the time.

My best friend, Jason White, threatened to physically harm me (I believe his exact words were that he was going to scissor kick me in the back of the head) if I did not stop, but he is all talk. One of the pictures of Jason is of him receiving an award. Maybe I am just jealous that I never received any awards in school, but he does look like Howdy Doody in that particular photo.

In fairness I am in the photos as well, but not that many. I noticed that there are a lot of baby photos of students and I don’t recall ever being asked for mine. Maybe I was sick that day. My mugshot is in all of them of course but I am just now realizing that I was not apart of any clubs. Well, I take that back. When East Hills was Raymond E. Wells I was the member of one club, very prestigious, that was photographed for the yearbook and that was the Broom Brigade.

For those that don’t know the Broom Brigade was group of students that volunteered part of their study hall to keeping the halls of the new school clean and free of debris. After setting down our backpacks my sweeping partner, Jeff Nichols, and I would head to the broom closet, grab our brooms, make a quick run through the halls and then promptly return to class.

That is what we were suppose to do anyway. After doing things correctly for a while we realized that no one seemed to care if we came back to study hall. And so instead of returning to the classroom we hung out in the broom closet for a majority of the hour playing home run derby with a dustpan and a wadded up piece of notebook paper.

You were not allowed to throw the ball very hard as the pitcher was approximately five feet from the batter and the ball had to go over the pitchers head and hit the wall to be considered a home run.

What a boring game this was. Had we not been in school we would have never elected to play this as a game, but because it was during school and we were not supposed to be doing it, it was the best game ever.