I found the frog's eye! Or...what I did on my summer vacation

Hubby and I were over at KRR's house in June for a cookout. As usual, we got started talking about some of our high school exploits - she has a new hubby who wasn't really clued in to all of our teenage wackiness, so we were obliged to rehash some of it. Anyways, she mentioned 10th grade biology class and the frog we had to dissect as lab partners. She asked if I remembered saving the frog's eye, and I was like "Eeww, gross, why would we save a frog's eye?" I thought she had lost her mind. Why would I save a dead frog's eye? I thought maybe SHE had saved the frog's eye, but I certainly would have not.

Flash foward to last week, my mom's basement in Ohio. I found a box full of my stuff from HS - apparently, I had the foresight at 16 to date everything and to add a note as to why it was important to me - my horoscope the day I saw Motley Crue, programs, movie stubs and who I went with, random bits of paper, letters, notes, pictures, all sorts of crap. I had no clue that my mom had saved any of it - it just never occurred to me (duh) that my packrat mom would faithfully save every scrap of paper I, her only child, had ever touched. And then, I found it. A folded up brown paper towel, taped around the edges. Neatly labeled "10th grade biology. Frog's Eye". I didn't peek inside of it - I'm sure it just looks like a dried booger - but I was elated. KRR probably thought I had lost MY mind when she got the voice mail with me yelling "I found it! I found the Frog's eye!"

I guess I am excited about finding the damn eye because it, along with all of those other bits, are clues to who I was as a teenager - although, I must admit, I still haven't figured out the exact logic behind saving a dead frog's eye. It must have been because it was a funny thing to do, or maybe I saved it because I knew that almost 20 years later I'd find it and go "WTF?" You forget, to some degree, the day-to-day details of your life, your loves, your hopes, dreams, passions. That same box also contained brilliant love letters from my second boyfriend, JC, my true love in HS. Reading them as an adult brought tears to my eyes - the passion, the emotions. That guy really loved me, treated me great, and we always made each other laugh with our goofiness. My husband reminds me of him in many, many ways - same name, same zodiac sign, great sense of humor. We were just two midwestern kids with shitty family lives (messy baby-boomer divorces)who dreamed of getting out and making it big. With each other, we thought we had found forever.

Ahh, young love. It lasted for a bit and then we moved on. I've thought about him numerous times over the years, and had googled him and such. Then, I had another "duh" moment - and I found him on MySpace. Can I tell you how happy I am that he survived, too, and is thriving? I'm thrilled that we've connected again.

So this year, I spent my summer vacation in Ohio thinking hard about who I used to be, where I came from, and how I survived my crazy family and my intense, self destructive rebellion. I had a lot of time to think - I was in the car alot, driving back and forth between my moms house and my in-laws house an hour away. I also drove to Michigan to see my ailing Dad. I always do my best thinking on road trips. The scenery helped - rolling hills, big brown rivers, technicolor trees, children playing outside in the safety of small towns. As much as I hated living in Ohio, it sure was a great place to be a kid.

So here is to you, JC, thanks for the great memories. Thanks for being witness to who I was back then - and for the great love that we both needed. Rock on, dude. You'll always be my "Ice Cream Man".