A very special crew!

I don't think that anyone who has chosen to read my Blog would be surprised that I am very passionate about my Barrie Central experiences, both as a student and a member of staff. As I have explained to many over the years, it is my staunch opinion that Central was a special place thanks largely to the people that poured their souls into helping young people find their way in this world. A sizeable portion of my personal relationships were forged in the fires of ignorance eradication within her walls, relationships that I have actively sought to maintain because of their profound impact on my mental health and my soul.

One of my dearest friends is Ron Andrews, that's no secret to anyone that knows me well, and it is thanks to his boundless generosity that an annual battery-recharge occurs at his cottage in Muskoka on the last day of the school calendar. This recharge is of Olympic proportions and started a number of moons back when the gentlemen involved were all on staff at Central, and other than a pandemic-imposed suspension, has been bolded and highlighted on calendars each and every year. The demographics of the group have slowly morphed thanks to retirement milestones being reached, but the passion for participation has barely waned, evidenced by the twelve 1000-watt smiles sitting on the cottage deck last Wednesday afternoon, as memories were relived, new stories were shared, and playful jabs were launched in the glorious northern Ontario sunshine. Call it Kismet or Karma, the powers that be have always provided a glorious afternoon for our celebrations.

The traditions have altered slightly over the years, but the basic framework is forged in stone; Everyone brings an appetizer, their own libations, and a hunk of BBQ-worthy protein while the host graciously provides some sides to accompany the fruits of the flames. 

We've spread like rings from a pebble tossed in the pond, landing at various other schools or situations since the closing of Central in June 2016, and being brutally honest, other than electronic communications, we rarely share the same air. That doesn't mean that there's even the most remote sense of awkwardness in our annual reunion, a testament to the quality of our friendships, there's nary a misstep as we launch right back into the shits and giggles like no time has passed. 

We have official outfits, highlighter yellow tank-tops complete with front logo and back message, certainly a curious sight to the boat traffic along the lake.

We are loud, our belly laughs reverberating off the cliffs and forests of the lake, signalling the raw emotions of a group of well connected souls.

We consume all manner of libations, the recycling bin overflowing with evidence, loosening our tongues and inhibitions as we playfully poke fun at past and present blunders.

We offer passionate opinions on a wide variety of subjects, some from a source of consternation, some from a feeling of gratitude, others from a place of curiousity. Regardless, opinions flow like the waters of the lake that surrounds us.

Most importantly, we reaffirm our allegiance to the group in a public display of support, a proclamation most dire these days thanks to the disruptions the pandemic has caused to the education system, disruptions that have significantly increased stress levels as parents, students and teachers struggle with massive increases in mental health issues brought on by the anxiety-drenched conditions of the the pandemic.

The festivities proceed well into the night with nary a break in the conversation. When the 24 hours of revelry come to a close, we pile into our vehicles for the sombre trek back to our loved ones, resolute in the knowledge that we made some great choices over our lives, profoundly thankful for the connections we feel to our Central brethren, and grateful for the ability to resuscitate, reaffirm and refresh.

Of course, life sometimes gets in the way, and some of our clan could not join us this year, but they were there in spirit, and were oft spoke of as we recounted the stories of reunions past, or from the BCC staffroom. Absent but not forgotten, as the saying goes. 

Nay-sayers have commented to me since the closing of Central, "Move on!"or "Get over it!", often adding how tired they are of hearing about her glories, but I will always hold tight those reins since they are a powerful part of the engine that drives my soul forward in life. I could no sooner discard that part of my psyche than I could my left arm, lest it leave me profoundly changed.

I love my Central Crew! 

Always have, always will!

And, I can't wait until June 2023!