If MTV Really Knew Us...

Given MTV President Van Toffler’s recent comment about how the network is “pushing Generation X out” for the “more civic minded, less cynical” Millennials, it’s no wonder very little of their programming interests me anymore. I didn’t care what rapper T.I. was doing with his pre-prison life (if I’d have said he’s just going to end up in prison again anyway, I would have been called cynical…but guess who was just arrested on drug charges a few days ago. Ahem.) And I won’t watch anything featuring Tila Tequila.

So given this waning love, I was surprised to be so taken with a recent addition to the MTV lineup. If You Really Knew Me is an hour-long documentary taking place at a different high school each episode. Students from every social group participate in a day-long activity called Challenge Day, facilitated by leaders from Challenge Day/Be the Change, a California-based nonprofit organization whose mission is to provide youth and their communities with experiential programs that demonstrate the possibility of love and connection through the celebration of diversity, truth, and full expression.

Through different sharing exercises the students slowly let down their privacy walls and confess facts about themselves, first in small groups and then later to the entire assembly. Every confession begins with “If you really knew me, you’d know that I….” The students divulge everything from the pain of losing a parent to personal mental illness to regret felt after having treated a friend badly. There’s a lot of crying, a lot of hugging, and a dash of Gen X-aged leaders trying to be hip by throwing street lingo into their presentations. It’s like a cross between the Oprah show and a church youth group convention.

What most amazes me is the ease at which many of the students tell their secrets. Even more so is that they tell these secrets to the very people who could most use that knowledge against them. I tried to imagine such a day taking place at my former high school and the thought seemed absurd. No WAY would I have told what was really going on in my life to 98% of my classmates. No way would I have trusted 100 other students to not tease each other incessantly with all this juicy new gossip. (Woops, there’s that Gen X cynicism rising up again.)

In every episode I’ve watched there’s been a girl who lets out that she lost her best friend but doesn’t know why. Across the room, the former best friend admits to her small group that she treated her best friend badly and now they don’t even speak, and how bad she feels about it. Everybody in each group knows exactly who each girl is talking about. Having been in the shoes of girl #1 my sophomore year, admitting what she admitted would have been social death for me. My former best friend’s social group would have crucified me.

But amazingly, as the confessions flow, so does the peer support, in a fascinatingly strong way. It often reminds me of the scene from The Breakfast Club where the detainees are talking about their respectively sucky home lives. Remember Allison’s confession, “They ignore me.” Also like in the movie, students at the end of Challenge Day often ponder to each other whether the message will stick once they’re out of the confines of the program and back in the halls of everyday school life. Will the homecoming queen who feels alone really say hi to the quiet bipolar girl nobody knows? Will the cowboy really stick up for the nerd who’s incessantly teased?

The show does a phenomenal job of showing how you never know what is going on in someone’s mind, life, or family. One of the most powerful examples of this was Eric, the physically imposing Texas football player who completely broke down when the leader asked, “Who never got the chance to just be a child?” Poor guy could barely hold himself up he was so overcome with emotion. A redneck in a 10-gallon hat was the first to step up to support him, and a sassy black girl was so moved by his unexpected breakthrough that she truly appeared to see everyone in her school in a new light. Clearly these kids are motivated to break through the social and racial barriers that normally plague the high school experience.

Challenge Day/Be The Change has been in existence since 1987, when many of its group leaders were still in high school themselves. So in a way, MTV has Gen X to thank for this popular show. Our own experiences are what shaped a desire to incite change in the next generation. If Gen X was truly so cynical, we wouldn’t have faith that things could be different, that high school didn’t have to be so awkward, judgmental, or vicious.

So don’t be so quick to dismiss us, MTV. While I still haven’t forgiven you for taking JUST SAY JULIE off the air in ‘92, I will hold on for just a little longer thanks to this latest offering.

New episodes of If You Really Knew Me air Tuesdays at 11 p.m., but are repeated often throughout the week.

My Love Affair With Neil Perry

As the students crowded around trophy cases full of old black-and-white photographs, the teacher crouched behind them and slowly whispered, “Carpe…carpe diem…seize the day, boys…make your lives extraordinary….”

I never took a Latin class, but I did learn to love that phrase: Carpe diem.

During my senior year of high school, my creative writing teacher introduced us to a soon-to-be-released movie called Dead Poets Society. She had gotten hold of some condensed versions of the movie script, and we read it aloud in class. I remember our Australian exchange student played the part of the inspirational teacher in the reading, and I still hear her accented voice saying those words, carpe diem.

It was a good enough story in its shortened version; I was very much into poetry at the time, and anything that this particular teacher recommended I took as gospel. So when the movie came out the summer after I graduated, I was eager to see it.
The movie told the story of a group of high school boys enrolled at a boarding prep school in New England in the 1950s. Their lives were dramatically changed by the introduction of a radically inspirational new teacher, Mr. Keating, as played by Robin Williams. Through unconventional methods he taught them to question the status quo, to be free thinkers, and to “do more…be more.” It was the message I needed to hear at precisely the time I needed to hear it.

At the time I had just turned 17 and was eager to get away to college and experience everything new. I was soaking up every word my own radically inspirational teacher said. I was yearning to be worldly and wise.

At college, I introduced one of my freshman year roommates to DPS. She fell in love with it just like I did, and this bond was a major pillar of our friendship. Whenever it played at the dollar theater, we caught a ride to see it. If we heard a dorm-mate had rented it, we knocked on her door to watch it. We regularly quoted lines from it in everyday conversation. It was a part of us. And how we loved those boys; she loved Knox, I loved Neil.

But really, we loved them all. They were the boys we wanted to meet, the boys who would write us poetry and reveal secrets about themselves to us. Boys who would find us beautiful but be even more interested in our minds.

We didn’t meet those boys anytime soon, certainly not that year. But the movie gave us hope that they were out there. And it gave us a seed of motivation that, 20 years later, I can see has grown in both of us and influenced choices we’ve made along the way. Both professionally and personally we’ve heard that whisper coming from behind us saying, “seize the day…make your life extraordinary.”

There are so many lines that spoke to me in that movie, I could fill pages just quoting them all. But one of the strongest was, “The powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” It is my life’s goal to contribute a verse that is remembered. It is why I write and why I push myself to reach out to relationships I was previously scared to pursue. I’m still working my way up to a barbaric YAWP, as Mr. Keating encouraged the boys to exalt. I try to remember, as he told them, that “poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.”

I still get choked up every single time I watch that movie. The beauty of scenery, the truth of the theme, and the emotion of the tragedy never fail to touch me. But above all, the closing scene where the boys take a final stand to honor their teacher who was forced out of his job shaped the way I view loyalty. I hope that when the opportunity arises I can be as courageous as they were in standing up to defend the honor of someone I truly believe in. And I hope that my contributed verse will be honorable.

We're The Class of '89

It was only a week or two ago that my husband and I had a conversation about our mutual concern for friends who maybe aren't taking as good care of themselves as they should be. We're in our late 30s and our friends are on both sides of 40; old enough to notice health effects of bad habits, but still young enough to make significant changes.

We talked about not knowing how to express our genuine concern without coming across as judgmental or trying to suck all the fun out of life. Nobody wants to be told they need to lose weight, to exercise, to stop smoking once and for all, to cut down the drinking. Nobody wants to admit they are a danger to themself.

Sadly, my doomsday fears were fully realized this afternoon when I learned that a high school classmate of mine died of a heart attack last night. He wasn't even 40 years old yet. I couldn't fathom that Generation X is already "there," in the Land of People Having Heart Attacks.

Ironically, my classmate WAS attempting to take care of himself; he suffered his heart attack while running. He'd been in the Navy since just after high school, so he was no stranger to physical conditioning. But it happened anyway. And now his wife has lost her best friend, his kids have lost their dad.

His friends from junior high are already rallying together, figuring out how to establish a scholarship in his name, planning a service at the veterans' memorial park in our hometown, determined to honor him properly by promoting organizations that had fostered him growing up.

We weren't close friends, I only knew him as the goofy guy who sat next to me in 9th grade biology class, the guy who thought the McKenzie Brothers were hilarious. But after reading post after post on his Facebook wall, tributes to friendship and expressions of admiration, I know that his goodness ran deep to his core, and his generosity reached far. "He cared more about the people around him than for himself," said one of his closest friends. "By living a selfless life, he left a legacy that we can all learn from."

Take care of yourselves, Xers. I mean REALLY take CARE of yourselves. Don't let fear keep you away from visiting a doctor. Don't keep turning your back on family trends in medical histories. Realize that there's no time like yesterday to get back on that exercise program. I don't want to read any more tributes. Not this year.

Left of Center

Last weekend I attended my high school graduating class’s 20-year reunion. I was expecting to walk into a John Hughes movie when I walked into the country club. The prom scene from “Pretty in Pink” is what I pictured.

While the ‘80s music played in the posh venue and we dined on a surprisingly impressive meal, I was much more playing the part of observant attendee rather than the interacting social butterfly. If you want me, you can find me left of center, off of the strip. In the outskirts, in the fringes, in the corner out of the grip.

I found my curiosity in the popular crowd to be almost nonexistent. I wanted to see what the stay-at-home moms with the rich husbands and unlimited spending power were wearing, but after that detail, the formerly fascinating popular crowd bored me. I don’t care anymore what they do or where they live. I don’t care what their kids’ trendy names are. I can pretty much guess what their lives are like. Out of habit I was still snarking on a couple of the old mean girls, but it wouldn’t be fun without a little snark. When they ask me, ‘what are you looking at?’ I always answer ‘nothing much, not much.’

I was much more focused on realizing who I am now drawn to in friendships. The maturity of the women made me happy. That the wives and girlfriends of my former boyfriends/dates can make friends with me now is how it should be. Decades have passed, and I am not pursuing your husband. Thank you for realizing that we actually can all be friends and appreciate each other. I think that somehow, somewhere inside of us, we must be similar, if not the same.

I was also more apt to let go of attempts at friendships that I just don’t care about or know aren’t healthy. I didn’t feel the need to be nice for more than a minute to those whose friendly appearances shaded unfriendly pasts. Maybe these attempts were sincere, maybe they didn’t remember how they treated me back then, or maybe they do remember but were hoping that I’d forgotten.

Maybe they don’t remember anything at all and were just acting their way through the crowd, hoping no one would notice their oblivion.

Whatever the case, I DO remember and I’m done with them. It’s not out of spite or revenge, but rather a lack of desire to reconcile those emotions within myself. My hurt feelings have been neatly tucked away for 10-20 years without incident and I’m perfectly content to leave them that way. Amends do not have to be made with everyone. I’m okay with that. Go hang with your crowd and leave me with mine. Unless you have a sincere apology for me, we don’t need to act like we’re friends.

Sometimes the expectation of seeing someone for the first time in years brings so much anticipation that it’s anticlimactic when you realize you don’t have much to say. A hug and “you look good!” is all that comes forward. You never know when dead air will hit. So I continue to be wanting you, left of center, against the grain.

I saw emotions in classmates’ eyes that I recognized because I’ve had them in my own eyes. I know the look of missed opportunity, the look of a broken friendship walking by, the look of regret, the look of repressed hurt, the look of relief and glad-I-got-out-of-that-situation. I saw the disbelief and shock at the realization of change.

I saw joy that negated the expanse of years of noncommunication, and I saw sincerity that made all the traveling worth it if just for those few minutes of rekindled mutual admiration.

I saw spouses secretly wondering if they know the real story behind the person they just met as I watched hugs that lingered longer. I could discern between smiles of joy and smiles of politeness. I think they know that, I’m looking at them, I think they must think I’m out of touch. But I’m only in the outskirts, and in the fringes, on the edge, and off the avenue…

Still, I wouldn’t trade my time this weekend with my old friends for anything. I would bargain away most things in life for more time with them. They get me, they laugh at me, and they let me laugh at them. They make themselves available as friends in so many ways.

And if you want me, you can find me left of center, wondering about you.

Wondering about you.