Over the last 14 years I've barely visited home, and this isn't because I don't care. I've just always lived in a city where everybody wants to go, so the visits were always on my end. Move to London, have a spare room and you'll see. I had a revolving door of guests, some I knew really well (parents), others not so much (random Facebook "friend" from one class in school). My first big move away was easy to remember for many reasons. I was in a new city for the first time, and I woke up to a frantic call instructing me to turn on the TV. This was particularly easy as I was living on a couch. BOOM! There it was on every channel. It was September 11, 2001 and my sister worked on Wall Street. So yeah, easy to remember.
I came back to my childhood home because my father isn't well, and for those who are concerned, he's getting better. In fact, today I watched him go across the room without his walker. My jaw dropped. It was the most impressive thing I'd seen in a long time. Yes, even more impressive than the YouTube video of the pug drumming to Metallica! Health truly is wealth, and I am certain that if my father had not spent most of his life on his mountain bike or a tennis court, he would not still be here. What you do now gives your body the strength to endure what life throws at it down the road.
Staying in your childhood home and seeing things from the past brings back a lot of memories. I keep opening boxes and looking at clothes I actually wore, Star Wars toys I adored (still do), mixtapes I loved, and yearbooks that nobody signed.
I'm very fortunate that my folks never moved, because if they did, most of this would have filtered down to the trash. So yes, it's all still in their basement. I even found my first porn! The very same one my dad found hidden in the basement when I was 15 -- "Mad Jack Beyond ThunderBone" (you'd remember that as well). I walked in from school and my dad was standing in the kitchen, calmly pointing at the table where my hot tape rested in all her sweet, sweet glory. I was instantly sucked in by the voluminous hair of the two dangerous ladies on the VHS box cover. I gazed at it for a good ten seconds before my dad smacked his hand on the counter, snapped me out of it, and did his best to give me a genuine life-lesson.
He told me, "Real sex isn't two guys going at a girl on top of a tank in some futuristic wasteland. That's not what people who love each other do!"
This was supposed to be valuable advice for my virgin self, but I couldn't escape the thought -- he watched it. After all, I knew every millisecond of that VHS tape and that was a key scene. He confiscated the tape and threw it out.
Yes, he threw it out. If you consider his desk drawer to be a trash can. Still there. Classic!
Mom, if you're reading this, sorry.
Dad, if you're reading this, good save!
Wife, if you're reading this, I have a blog on The Huffington Post.
I got to thinking about myself as a teenager, and I thought it would be interesting to see how others felt, so I wrote the original hashtag #TweetAtYourTeenSelf. There were thousands of sincere, intelligent and hilarious responses. Here's a few that I really enjoyed.
I need therapy just reading this one:
Spot on.
The only person who believed Clinton didn't inhale.
My friend Mike and I camped out to get tickets to Rod Stewart. We were in the front row with two other friends of ours and it rocked. I didn't realize that the rest of my high school did not share my passion for Every Picture Tells a Story.
Can you also please tweet this as a push notification to the f*cking world?!
:(
Yes, I'm stupid for paying off all those late fees.
She does.
Totally, and food pics too!
Why are we always so hesitant?!
Sad and funny, but at least someone wrote in your yearbook!
This is just pure gold!
It made me laugh and warmed my heart to read these, and if you search Twitter for #TweetAtYourTeenSelf you will find many more.
Time travel is not possible (yet), but if you do have teenagers, then show them this, and remind them, you too were once their age.
Thanks for reading,
Tommy Campbell