A stop along the way: The end of a wedding marathon. The beginning of another chapter

It took me a while to figure out what to write about my recent trip to Denver. I sat at my computer on several occasions, possessing each time the emotional charge leftover from my Rocky Mountain experience. Each time, however, I came up empty. I couldn’t describe what the trip had done to me. For a guy who never shuts up, I struggled to come up with words.

Now, however, I think I have it figured out. My trip to Denver, taken primarily to stand in the wedding of one of my childhood best friends, began with the incessant buzz that comes with all reunions of old company, and ended—after four days of placing the world by the wayside just to pick up where we last left off—with an emotional departure from what I can only describe as a self-cleansing experience. A sort of soulful baptism, if you will.

You see, many kids grow up trying to figure out who they are. They convince their parents to buy certain clothes, and convince themselves to follow a crowd because, let’s face it, adolescence can be torturous if you don’t fit in. I was fortunate to grow up surrounded by people who loved me for who I was (family and friends included). Sure, I went through the same identity crises that all kids do (for about five years I wore the same Nike Air Force One shoes, baggy shorts, and Michigan T-shirts), but those around me knew the person I was, the things for which I stood, and we all coasted through high school contently. Life came easy to us.

These people, the family and friends I was lucky to have during my childhood, are the same people who celebrated the wedding in Denver this past weekend. I call this experience ‘self-cleansing’ for two reasons:

1. It was refreshing to revisit childhood in an unfamiliar place. To briefly revive the past that built us, and to find that all of us were filled with the same ambitions we possessed eight years ago. After college, we all moved to new places, got jobs, some got married, and one had kids. Then, this weekend allowed us to come out of hiding and hike to the peak of a mountain to take in the fresh air and realize that we were still the same, just moving into the next phase of our lives. (There was a moment at the top of the mountain when we came to an opening and sat in silence for several minutes. Is this a cheesy dose of sentimentality? Probably, but it was also extremely peaceful and liberating).
2. Some people stumble through adolescence, gain confidence in college, and figure out who they are in their early twenties. I decided who I was in my early years, stumbled through college, and have finally reconnected with my old self. The time I spent in Denver was parallel to time I spent with the same group of people at another wedding just two years ago—it was authentic, thus I was genuinely happy. I spent some time in my life away from these friends, away from my family, deciding on what I should do with my life. Should I strive to make more money? Should I teach forever? My 18 year-old self would kick my ass for even questioning those things. With these friends (a few of them teachers), we laughed about people who buy $80,000 seats at football stadiums, made fun of each other for taking too long to get ready, and reminded each other of our blue-collar backgrounds with each vulgar insult tossed around the hiking path. We danced to the eighties music our parents grew up on, drank whiskey, and enjoyed one another’s company. On my flight home I felt reassured of who I am: I am Jake Nantz. I am a teacher, and a pretty damn good one when I want to be. I’ll never be a millionaire (barring any extreme luck), and that is just how I want my life to be. Nothing matters more in life than figuring out what it is you stand for, doing your best to never stray from that, loving your family, and maintaining relationships with great people only so you can build the same relationships with the other great people around you.

            Thank you Tim and Liz, your families, and everyone who helped put on such an

            awesome wedding in Colorado. My friends, though scattered across the country,

            are the best anyone could ask for. You made my girlfriend feel welcome, and

            reminded me where I came from.

            Cheers to a great weekend, and to many happy years for the new Klatt Family!

Oh yea, here is a poem I wrote on the plane…..

A Speech of Reassurance, Spoken to a Mirror

I am a knife manufactured

for simple tasks such as applying spread

or slicing through water-softened vegetables;

those sharper-made blades

with large wooden handles and effortless ability

speak slanderous of me,

so I remind them I was made not for display,

but to work in the shadows and dust of cluttered space—

Strong.

Stained.

Necessary and unnoticed.

   

    I am an outlet of reasonable wattage,

built to enlighten small rooms

and give power to those stronger than I—

I give lamps what they need

to accomplish what I can’t,

then watch from beneath the end table with satisfaction

as smiles see doors once hidden in darkness.

It is an honor, I must say,

to admit you are sharper and brighter than I

on even my greatest day,

and so I pray I am at my best,

always improving, too,

though I may be of no use to kings,

I may be just enough for you.