“I can’t believe that!” said Alice.  “Can’t you?” the Queen said in a pitying tone.  “Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.”  Alice laughed.  “There’s no use trying,” she said.  “One can’t believe impossible things.”  “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen.  “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day.  Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Real life can sometimes be akin to the experiences of the Queen in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.   I am in the process of discovering and overturning some personally fabricated untruths from my growing up years.  While the initial realization is a little disconcerting, the newly realized truth is freeing.

My home life was troubled growing up (father left when I was 7, a young and preoccupied with herself Mother, a nasty stepfather who arrived in my 10th year, verbal, mental and some physical abuse at home, etc).  Further, I have carried the belief that my junior and high school life was troubled also.  Now I realize I took with me to class what was at home and painted my school experience with it.

I did remember previously that academically I always did well and had no issues with classes or teachers.  I recalled being picked on some here and there.  The memory of being left out of the “in” group at times was clear.  I recalled feeling “not good enough” because I did not have the cool clothes many did.  However, there is nothing unique about me having those type memories of my school years.  Most all have those feelings growing up, at least at times.

Two nights ago I did an on-line search for an old classmate and ran across a listing of people in my hometown who were buried in a particular cemetery. A few were people I went to school with. I dug out four high school annuals I have paid almost no attention to in 40 years to try and connect name to face for two people.  Doing so caused a strong bit of a nostalgic feeling and I began to slowly read through two of the yearbooks.  I ended up reading  how people had signed my yearbooks for the first time in probably 40 years.  What I found was almost a perfect conflict with the memory I had planted in my head about school.

 To one of the cutest, sweetest and most charming boys I have ever known.  You are a good friend I will always remember with pleasure.  May God provide you with the best life has to offer.  Beth 

To a good friend who was the only one at the first of school.  A friend.  Mike 

To one of the cutest, sweetest boys I know.  You have a lot of class. May we always be friends.  Kaye 

Best of luck to a real nice boy!  Stay the same and you’ll really go places.  Will 

To one of the nicest boys and cutest I know.  May we be best of friends.  I will always remember you.  Love Linda 

To a good boy and a very good friend. May God be with you.  David 

You are one of the best looking boys I have ever known.  May you always be as sweet as you are now.  Love ya, Joan

To a real nice friend.  I hope you really have the best in everything you ever do.  Good luck.  Jon 

To a good looking guy with a great personality.  May we have some fun some time.  Love and kisses.  Loretta (I hope your girl don’t crown me!) 

On and on the written comments went.  Between the two yearbooks comments of somewhere around 100 people were there.  All were positive, caring, encouraging and friendly.  There was not a single negative hinted at.  A little of what was written may have been the tendency of people to just say something nice.  However, even considering that, what I read was overwhelming.

After all these years, my made up memories about school faded away.  I suddenly recalled that school was one of the good things about my growing up.  I had many friends, was accepted in all “groups” and popular in most.  Girls liked me and reading the comments now I realize I missed the chance for several girlfriends.  Even the boys thought I was a good guy.

While this is a difficult lesson, I am grateful through the emotions of the moment to know that some of my memory is untrue.  Somehow I mixed up some of this and some of that to create “impossible things” like the Queen in Alice in Wonderland.  Now I know I have denied myself the knowing of some wonderful things about my life.

What a relief!  What a gift!  To suddenly find wonderful memories that I had locked away behind a door of other grief and pain is both humbling and astonishing.  What I was feeling inside at the time did not allow me to accurately experience and remember the school part of my youth.  I suppose it is human nature to diminish the good and amplify the bad, but from this day forward it is my intention to reverse that tendency as much as possible.

With great gratitude for what has happened,  I am suddenly refreshed and renewed at a soulful level.

Men can starve from a lack of self-realization as much as they can from a lack of bread.  Richard Wright