High School Assemblies

During my sophomore and junior years in high school, a string of tragic car accident claimed the lives of several students. They were so young, so full of promise. I didn't know them personally but mourned along with the school.

Nevertheless, life went on. There is no compromising with the dictates of fate. Death is absolute; so is the throbbing continuation of life and renewal. So the student body picked itself up and cleansed itself from sorrow. Laughter filled the hallways. Flirtations made young heart and minds accelerate in anticipation. Jocks continued to increase their physical prowess. Intellectuals continued to increase their cerebral prowess.

Sorrow forgot--life continues onward.

There were times during the year when the student body came together as a sort of celebration of uniqueness and sameness. Assemblies. We all squeezed into our auditorium and basked in the lack of class time. Our eyes scanned the crowd for the friends that we could sit by, head to head, and laugh quietly with during the hour. After we were seated, our eyes still scanned the crowd for that special boy or girl that we just couldn't stop thinking about. Was he nearby? Did he see me? Would he come sit by me? Who was he with?

As the social fever pulsated, the faculty tried to quiet the roar long enough to establish some sense of order. The program was announced. Speakers spoke. Students clapped. The different classes tried to outdo each other with their chants of "95! 95! Ninety ninety ninety ninety 95!!!" The class of '95 was always the most vocal and seemed to honestly think that they were blessed with some superhuman specialness because they were part of the glorious graduating class of 1995. We '96ers were jealous of their enthusiasm, tried to emulate them and always fell short, muttering about how cool they thought they were (but really weren't).

One of the highlights of the assemblies was the student performances. Young vocalists donned long gowns and tried to sing Celine in a new way. Rocks bands feverishly banged their heads up and down and tried to keep a rhythm, but generally failed. Aspiring comedians tried to make the students laugh. We did laugh, but perhaps not for the reasons they had hoped.

The atmosphere was tangible as we celebrated our unique accomplishments but bonded together as students of our beloved school. We stood on our feet and passionately sang our school song. Joy was palpable.

Then one day, it happened. We were giggling, figuring out our after-school plans and exchanging glances that meant, "Did he seriously just sing that in front of 2,000 people? I'd rather be caught dead!" 

Two young men stepped onto the stage, acoustic guitars in hand. They were popular and good looking. The crowd welcomed them with screams and applause.

They sat down on stools solemnly and began to sing.

Would you know my name

If I saw you in heaven?

Will it be the same

If I saw you in heaven?

We immediately recognized who these people were. They were friends of the crash victims. We instantly understood. They weren't singing to the 2,000 people who were watching. They were singing to their friends. Whispering stopped. Laughter died away. Notes were not passed. The cute guy in the row ahead was forgotten. This was a sacred moment.

I must be strong, and carry on

'Cause I know I don't belong

Here in heaven

Time can bring you down

Time can bend your knee

Time can break your heart

Have you begging please

Begging please

There are some friendships in life that are so intense and so important that they can't be forgotten. There are some moments in life so unexpected, so intense and so important that they can't be forgotten. Both are sacred. Both are hallowed.

Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure

And I know there'll be no more

Tears in heaven