THE SEASONED OBSERVER
The summer of 2006
By J. G. Fabiano
Jim Fabiano
I always consider this time my New Year's eve. Being a teacher, this end of summer marks the time when I can once again become part of the dreams and aspirations of many young men and women. Every year, these young people become smarter and more motivated. The news reports that state today's children are not as smart as the children of the past simply don't get it. Today's youth have to deal with technologies and matters of society that no child in the past has ever been confronted with.
My final day on the beach is a great time to think about the past few months and my time on the beach. One day will represent this time more than the others. It had to do with a cruise down the York River.
Sliding down the river on one of the hottest days of the summer I came upon an overpass that once held the railway system that was built so people from Boston could enjoy the newly discovered vacation land of Maine. The overpass now held a road that led into Kittery, but the bridge was not what made the image special. On the side of the bridge stood about a dozen summer-tanned young men and women who were in a tight circle talking about what generations before them had debated. This, of course, was who was going to take the first dive into the river.
Since it was low tide, the drop had to be almost 25 feet. Right away I knew what was taking place before me was a right of passage. Drifting closer to the bridge, I counted eight young boys and four girls. All the boys looked like they were in their middle teenage years and had their shirts off and looked ready to take the big plunge. The girls were also wearing bathing suit tops and what looked like cut-off jeans.
This was probably one of the most important times in these young men's lives. They looked like they were about to enter high school and any decision they made in the next few moments would stay with them the rest of their high school career - if not their entire lives. At least this is what my imagination told me.
The conversation lasted a few more minutes with the girls giggling their way through it. The boys were more serious because, as it turned out, they would be the ones that had to make the decision as to whether or not to jump. I assumed the girls were there to witness the event and report it back to their peers as soon as they had the chance.
After a few more minutes of conversation, a large well-built young man took the lead by climbing over the small rusted rail fence that was constructed in order to have cars and people not fall over into the river. He held on to the railing and stood on the perimeter of the bridge that must have been no wider than a high school ruler. He proudly looked back at his friends and then waved toward the admiring girls, who giggled their way through what must have been their total support. He jumped feet-first and made a perfect splash into the water. He was the first, and he would be known as a leader through the rest of his life.
More young men took the plunge, some screaming as gravity pushed them toward the Earth, only to have their victory screams be replaced by the splash of the water. They now formed a small circle under the bridge, treading water in order to encourage all of their friends to take the plunge. I then observed the next young man look over the railing of the bridge. Unlike the others, he had little tan and was a bit overweight. His hair was disheveled and, as far as I could see, his face was blemished. Either that or his blood pressure met up with the fear on his face.
A few more seconds passed that must have felt like hours for the boy on the bridge. I could see him almost let go a couple of times but then retreat by leaning back on the bridge. The boys in the river kept on telling him to jump, but the girls remained a bit quiet, wondering whether or not this was a good thing for this particular friend to do. I then observed him retreat by climbing back on the bridge. To my surprise, the boys in the river did not ridicule him for doing that, and the girls said little.
Before another boy could climb over the rail, the boy who retreated a few moments earlier again climbed over the railing, looked up at the sky and leaped into the river. He was met by all his friends splashing him and dunking him into the water. The girls on the bridge applauded while the boys who were left on the bridge joined in their celebration.
This particular young boy met a challenge in his life and became a young man. His high school career and maybe his life had successfully survived this very important and traditional right of passage. It could have happened on a bridge overlooking some small river or stream anywhere in America. But, this one happened here, at one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
Jim Fabiano, a teacher and writer who lives in York, is a past recipient of the Maine Press Association's award for Best Weekly Column. E-mail
Jim at yorkmarine@yahoo.com.
