One of the dumbest things I ever did was throw away most of the pictures from my high school photo album. I was proud of that book and had recorded so many memories there with my pictures. At the time, I think I was thinking that high school was stupid and really had no lasting impression or value in your life. I’d moved on and had kids and that whole period of time seemed like a lifetime ago that had ultimately meant nothing.

Certain photos I can still see. The ones from Washington D.C, the ones of me and my friends on Angie’s car or in my room. The homecoming and sweetheart dances with Nathan and then the homecoming and sweetheart dances with Matt. If only he had liked me more we could’ve been something great together. Every picture had it’s own separate memories and stories which would’ve been nice to still have these days.

During senior year our physics class took a field trip down to Texas. Our teacher was from there and he had all these places that he remembered from his own school days. We were going down to study rocks and also to visit Marfa, TX in order to hopefully view the mysterious lights that the town was supposedly famous for. I don’t remember doing a lick of work on this trip in terms of setting up or taking down the equipment.

One of the first things I did down there was swim to Mexico. I got such a kick out of saying I’d done that. We were exploring the land when I asked the teacher if I could swim across. There was another student named Sean who also wanted to go. I had no feelings for Sean of any kind but I was happy that someone else had had some sense of adventure. There was a picture of me and him on a rock about halfway across.

I haven’t anymore chronological recollection. There are only moments in my mind of things we did while down there or certain unusual things that happened. One night we camped along the river. There were three girls on the trip, with one including the teacher’s daughter. The other girl had been one of my best friends in junior high and had become a closer friend again during senior year when Susan left me for a while.

The rest were boys, four of them. Phil, Sean, Thad, and Zac. Phil was one of my close friends and the only reason I’d agreed to going. Having a girl friend on a field trip would have been okay but having a guy friend also going would make the trip even better. Matt was in our class that year too but he stayed behind for some kind of lame sports commitment. I was disappointed he wasn’t going but he wouldn’t have had any fun.

The night we camped by the river the girls slept in one of the vehicles. Spencer, the other chaperone, was the Lexington sheriff and kept watch with his gun. There were Mexicans crossing the border, or so I always thought and said. I don’t know who else would’ve been rustling around in the tall grass throughout the night. Several times I wondered in slight horror what my parents would do if they knew this was happening.

One of the things we did was spend the night at the Chinati Hot Springs. I feel positive that I have written about this somewhere before. It’s some place in Texas that has natural hot springs that come out of the pipes. They have these cabins you can stay in where you take baths in the water. They had a small outside spring pool where me, Phil, and the teacher talked for a large part of the night until the other chaperone came.

I talked about how this would be a great place for a honeymoon. I think I was thinking that the remoteness of the location made it romantic and there wouldn’t be a lot of people to bother you. I had a strange relationship with this teacher where I wanted to be nice to him but he seemed to take my niceness as reasons to like me more than he needed to. He was a very nice man and very nice to me, but I didn’t like him like that.

It started one day when I said hi to him in the hallway. He was kind of a strange man who was made fun of by other students. So one day I just looked at him and smiled and said “Hi Mr. Simpson” and after that I felt this sort of obligation to look at him and say hi every time I passed by his room. He would stand out in the hallway in between classes which is when I would see him. Kenzie and I would go to his room for study halls.

That was a common thing to do. You left study hall with whatever teacher you had to go hang out in the classroom of a teacher who you liked to be around more. I didn’t really like to be around this teacher per se, but he had this office space off of his classroom with several computers where we would go to check our emails and get away from everyone else. Tonya, Lisa, Susan, and I would do the same with our music teacher.

He would let us come and sort music or hang out in his office to play our instruments and chat. It’s true I had a crush on him just because he was a nice person, but there is a thing that happens where you bond more with certain teachers and become more friends with certain ones over others. These kinds of study halls broke up the day and gave you space to go and feel safe from the pressures and chaos of school life.

Spencer, the cop, came into the pool and Phil and I eventually left. The rest of the students were in the hammocks by the hill. Somehow we ended up sitting and talking in the school van away from everybody else doing other things. I wished several times that we could be making out on the ground somewhere. But there probably would’ve been a rattlesnake or another visitor we didn’t see to ruin the moment and punish us.

Another night we stayed in a coed bunkhouse. Where we were, how we were all in the same area, or why we couldn’t invest in more appropriate accommodations I’ll never know at this point. Phil was on the bottom bed and I was on the top. I don’t remember where anyone else was in the set up. One night we stayed in Big Bend National Park and there were just too many places to remember them all or what order.

Another day we rode donkeys into a Mexican town. A very small one. We were all given ten dollars to spend on the village children who we were told would come up to us wanting to sell things. This was another one of those photos. Of us all in the rowboat being ferried across the river. Of the donkeys we rode just like Jesus once did. Of me with this little girl, with my orange t-shirt and bandana, us sitting on the school steps.

Another whole day was spent on a river tour. The tour guide looked like Kevin Bacon, in fact, I’m sure it was him, that’s how similar they looked. If it was the river contaminate, if it was the food they served as part of the tour deal, I don’t know. But that night the other girls and I were so horribly sick I thought my dad was going to have to come get me. We were supposed to leave the next morning but we’d spent all night being sick.

Somehow we managed. I imagined plane tickets, hoping there’d be some way to get home besides having to spend 14 hours in a van managing upset stomachs. But God was merciful to us in clearing the germ from our systems and giving us relief by the morning. All we had to do was pass out exhausted and let the drivers be responsible for getting us home. The sheriff wanted to leave us there but the teacher wouldn’t let him.