Narrator: It was a strange and passionate time. Some of our dreams dissolved into thin air. They almost seem comical now. But some of our dreams are lasting and real.
Narrator: I guess that’s when it hit me, Winnie wasn’t going to forgive me for the things I said. It could only mean one thing: she wanted me bad.
Narrator: Some people pass through your life and you never think about them again. Some you think about and wonder what ever happened to them. Some you wonder if they ever wonder what happened to you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.
Narrator: In 7th grade, who you are is what other 7th graders say you are. The funny thing is it’s hard to remember the names of kids you spent so much time trying to impress
Narrator: When you’re a little boy, you don’t have to go very far to find the center of your universe. Mom. She’s always there. It’s a pretty good arrangement - when you’re five. But around age thirteen, there starts to be… a problem. The problem is…she’s always there. And I mean always. Now a mom has to be a mom, but a guy’s gotta be a guy. And when an irresistible force meets an immovable object… Sooner or later - something’s gotta give.
Narrator: It’s a tough time in life, when you are struggling for manhood, and your mother out-weighs you by 50 pounds.
Narrator: Every war has its casualties and every victory its price. But life goes on. Nothing really changed that night. Nothing big anyway. Just a very little piece of something that was never going to be the same. Not ever. The thing is it’s hard to tie a bandage with just one hand…sooner or later though you learn.
Narrator: Oh, yeah…Love. Once upon a time, it was…simple. If you liked somebody, you let ‘em know. And if you didn’t, you let ‘em know. One way or another, you knew where you stood. But as you get older, communication gets more…complicated.
Wayne: [in reference to Kevin’s assignment to write his own obituary] Born a butthead, lived a butthead’s life, died a butthead.
Jack: I wake up, I fight traffic, I go to work, I bust my hump all day, I fight traffic again, I come home, and then I pay my taxes. The end.
Narrator: I never really knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had….
Narrator: But the thing is, that was all we did. Maybe it was happening too fast. Maybe we wanted to hold on to what we had. Or maybe we both knew there were other things we had to find before we found each other. All we really knew for sure was, as we sat there, looking out over the lights of the town where we had grown up together, it all felt right. It all felt…perfect.
