My Wife Went to Seattle and all I got was an awesome t-shirt

Presenting my high school alma mater in Seattle, Washington:

I was class of 1981. A storied place, believe it or not. Other alums include: Jimi Hendrix, Quincy Jones, Olympic gold medalist (and longtime personal friend o mine) Debbie Armstrong. And also another friend who went on, shockingly enough, to become Colorado’s most notorious female murderer. Didn’t see that coming. Court TV, pulp bios, the whole bit. There’s a whole story there, one I kind of wrote for Glamour Mag in ’92 or ’93, but which actually began as a much larger story for the New York Times Magazine. A sad story there, I won’t go into it here. Maybe nowhere. But it occurs to me sometimes and makes me sad.

Anyway. Recently they took my storied high school and did a massive $88 million renovation that basically gutted the place and rebuilt it into a state-of-the-art, high-tech institution with a vast performing arts/phys ed building (The Quincy Jones Center…though apparently Q didn’t fork over a dime for its construction, which puzzles me vis-a-vis naming rights, but whatever), and more. Way more. So much more, in fact, that what remains recognizable from my past is, in total: A stairwell; and an entrance from E. Alder St., a cement ramp type of thing, that I remember skulking up and down at the beginnings and ends of my days.

And that’s it.

I’m happy for GHS’s students. And kind of sad for me. “There’s new people coming down here now/And they see things in different ways/And soon everything we know will just be blown away.” — Bruce Springsteen.

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