Good people do great things

About a month ago I had lunch with Hollie, a friend of mine who attended my alma mater, Avon Park High School. She was a year ahead of me, but we knew a lot of the same people.

I brought my yearbooks so we could reminisce about the good old days when girls teased their hair using lethal amounts of Aqua Net to hold it in place all day and guys still wore boat shoes.

I graduated in 1991 so we were at the tail-end of the 80s era and the grunge scene had yet to establish itself. I had memorized the movies “Sixteen Candles” and “The Breakfast Club” word-for-word and the “Hair Bands” that screeched and screamed their hard rock noise was my favorite music to annoy my mother and sister with.

Having started my high school journey at a larger school in Palm Bay where people were meaner and less forgiving of status, I came to Avon Park in my 10^th grade year with a chip on my shoulder ready for a battle. I was shocked when I didn’t receive it.

People were nice. Too nice. They invited me places and seemed to accept me even though I wore black T-shirts and acted sullen and disinterested.

I always thought they were welcoming to me because of my best friend, Damon. He grew up in Avon Park and everyone seemed to love him.

Well, most people loved him. There were a couple guys who bullied him and I still remember who they are. I’m sure they have moved on, but I won’t forget.

So despite my most earnest efforts, I made friends in Avon Park. I went there set on maintaining a wall of protection from caring about people and for some reason they just crept right into my heart when I wasn’t paying attention.

Years later, here I was flipping through my yearbook with Hollie feeling a little ashamed about some of the things that were written next to a few pictures of people I barely knew and some I knew well.

One friend wrote a comment next to a girl’s photo that still makes me mad. I didn’t write it, but I can’t believe he wrote it in my yearbook. I certainly never felt that way about her.

Another picture was a guy who was really sweet and I wrote one word that makes me feel bad to this day. He never did anything to me. I wish I could kick my 15-year old self for thinking it.

I blacked out the pic of my ex-boyfriend in the 11^th grade; forever erasing him from my records. He kind of deserved it. I don’t really regret that.

I say all of this to display how shallow and disrespectful and short-sighted teenagers can be. I know I was. This is why I am so incredibly proud of what Sebring High School did last week when they elected Samantha Alamo as their homecoming queen.

I was even more excited when I found out that Dalton Helvey escorted her. Dalton happens to be my niece’s half-brother and an all-around great kid. I couldn’t be more impressed.

I recently wrote an article about wishing things in the news didn’t happen in Florida. I want to gladly announce that I am overjoyed that this not only happened in Florida, but it happened right here in Highlands County; Sebring to be exact.

Please, tell everyone about it and don’t spare any details.