Michael Thomas Ford - Full Circle by Michael Thomas Ford

jacket he received after his winning season or his class ring on a chain around my neck. Still we took girls to the movies and dances. I sat in the stands, holding hands with Melania Brewster, watching Jack carry a football down the field. Afterward, I kissed the sweat from his skin as we celebrated his victory. We were invisible to the world, which made it impossible to imagine a life together beyond the moment. In 1968, the shock of John F. Kennedy's assassination repeated itself in the twin murders of Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert Kennedy within two months of one another, further bringing into focus the divisions threatening to splinter America. That fall, Jack and I entered our final year of high school. For the first time, we were forced to think about what would happen when we graduated. As the country faced its own uncertain future, we looked forward and saw that we, too, could be torn apart. It was my idea to apply to college. On the surface, this would seem like the perfect solution. There were, however, obstacles. First there was my father, who I discovered had been assuming that I would join him in the insurance industry. His plan was to get me a job at his office, where I could learn the business, and to then open our own shop, Brummel & Son. The fact that I'd never displayed the slightest interest in his profession apparently had passed him by, and my announcement that I intended to go to school was met with mute disappointment.
    Jack's father, being a scientist, was more open to the idea of further education for his son. Unfortunately, Jack's academic success had been far eclipsed by his performance on the field of play. A fair student, he'd gotten by largely because of my assistance and his ability to win the affections of his teachers. As we investigated the possibilities for advanced study, however, it became apparent that he would need more than that to earn him acceptance at a university.
    While I worried, Jack was as unconcerned as ever, telling me whenever I started to express my fears that "something would happen." This being Jack, of course it did. It came in the form of a baseball scholarship offered by Pennsylvania State University. My academic achievements were enough to get me a full ride, thereby negating my father's concerns over the cost and neatly settling our dilemma. So as the final year of the decade dawned, Jack and I looked forward to our future. With the pressure off, we were free to enjoy the blissful last months of our high school lives, culminating in the spring formal, which we attended with two girls whose hearts we would break soon after when we told them that preparing for college would prevent us from dating on an ongoing basis. That night, though, we danced with them in the crepe-paper-bedecked gymnasium as the Fifth Dimension serenaded us with
    "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In." Afterward, we took the girls to a party, where we made sure they drank enough strawberry wine that they wouldn't notice when we dropped them off at home far earlier than they had probably planned. Then Jack and I drove in his car to a spot we'd discovered in a nearby park, where we quickly shed our polyester prom tuxes and made love in the backseat. We thought we were almost men. At 18, we certainly looked the part. Our bodies had filled out. We had both allowed our sideburns to grow long in imitation of Jim Morrison, whose brooding sexuality aroused us and whose songs were frequently the background music to our sexual encounters. We carried packets of Lucky Strike cigarettes in our jacket pockets (although we were careful to hide them from our parents) and had once or twice tried marijuana.
    Graduation was a relief. As I tossed my cap into the air along with those of my classmates, I was overcome with a sense of having made it to the end of a very long, very tedious race. It occurred to me that I would no longer have to see the same faces every day of my life, or move robotlike through the routine of