Go Big Red!

You probably know me well enough to know that I love me some Facebook.  I love the random nature of seeing the daily minutiae of the lives of people from all different parts of my life listed in my news feed.  It's like "This is Your Life" everyday.  My first friend from childhood talks about his new baby, and then right under it, my girlfriend is asking for advice about digital cameras, and then there's something random from one of my relatives. 

Lately, there's been a lot of talk from one group of friends... my high school friends.  You see, my high school football team was in the state championship playoffs and this past Saturday, they lost in the final seconds to Dunbar High.  Apparently there was some controversy over the last play, in which Dunbar scored, breaking the tie and winning the game.  This is the kind of information I wouldn't know, if not for Facebook.  You might think this is just superficial FB crap, but to the people of Cumberland, MD, there is nothing more serious than football.

We moved to Cumberland when I was 10, almost 11.  Fresh off living in Detroit, MI, a place my entire family hated for the 11 months and 4 days we lived there, my first impression of Cumberland was made by the sign posted on the way into town "Cumberland, MD - Home of the National Marbles Champion 1981".  My thoughts were along the lines of, "wow, this town does not have much to brag about."  Moving from Pittsburgh to Michigan had been pretty traumatic for all of us, and I was just prepared to hate everything about this new hick town my parents had landed us in. 

My feelings of dread were not relieved by our new house.  It was unique in it's splendid ugliness.  The front door was painted safety orange with brown trim.  Apparently, the previous owners had gotten a good deal on this orange and brown paint, because the entryway and living room were the brown and the kitchen was the orange.  The downstairs powder room had wallpaper that rivals Repub's... silver and black metallic with yellow fuzzy diamonds.  My bedroom looked as though someone had color matched a Pink SnoBall.  It was putrid pink, even for an 11 year old girl.  If I remember right, my parents' bedroom was the same safety orange, cause really, why stop at the kitchen?  And their master bath was spectacular in it's tackiness, complete with shag carpeting.



Me, age 11

 But home it was and we unpacked and prepared for that most awkward of childhood moments, starting a new school mid-year.  There's a special kind of pain that is caused by starting mid-year...  everyone already knows where they're going, the cliques are already formed, and you're bound to get the seat directly in front of the teacher in every class.  It's like showing up late for church.  There's no way to sneak in without anyone noticing.  Well intentioned teachers think it's helpful to have you say something about yourself, when really all that does is allow all the other kids to get a good look at your glasses and crooked nose and bad hair and bad clothes.  At least, that's what it feels like.  

Determined to make a good impression, I dressed for my first day in my favorite blue sweater, the one that I hoped made people notice I had blue eyes hidden behind my ginormous glasses.   I got on the school bus with no problem and thought maybe this would be okay.  Maybe I would make a good impression.  Maybe I would finally be like Elizabeth from Sweet Valley High and everyone would love me. 

I noticed something strange pretty quickly: my bus was decorated with red and white signs and streamers.  This seemed odd to me, but I didn't really absorb it as I was busily trying to disappear into the seat.  However, when we drove through Cresaptown, I couldn't help but notice that people, some of them adults, were yelling stuff at the bus.  One kid actually threw a rock.  What the hell?  Who throws rocks at a school bus???  The kids on my bus were yelling out the windows back at them.  Was I in the middle of some bizarre small town gang war?  I saw that the buildings and cars we were passing were decorated with blue and white.  Slowly, I looked around at my new classmates.  Every single one of them was wearing red and white.  My blue sweater, so perfect that morning, suddenly felt two sizes too small and extraordinarily hot. 

It was Homecoming.  See, in Cumberland, there are two public high schools.  Fort Hill and Allegany.  Fort Hill, or Big Red, is where I would go.  But at this point, I was only in 6th grade, and going to Washington Middle School.  However, Cumberland is somewhat of a geographical anomaly - it's 3 hours to everywhere.  Equidistant from Pittsburgh, Baltimore and DC, affinity to any of these cities is tenuous.  It's alliance to the high school team that defines this town. 

Of course, my first day of school was Pep Rally Day, when the Fort Hill Sentinels made an appearance to their younger fans.  Every kid was dressed in red and white, and I stuck out like a big blue thumb.  The hated Allegany Campers (and I have no idea to this day why they were named that) school colors are blue and white.   My mortification was epic. 





Erin & Kellee

Defeated and embarrassed, I got on the bus to go home.  Prepared to sit alone and stare at my textbooks the entire way home, I was shocked when a pretty blond girl positively bounded onto the seat next to me.  "Hi!  I'm Kellee!  You're new, right?  Where are you from?  Do you like it here?  Where do you live?"  She shot questions at me faster than Kirstie Alley eats potato chips.  With each question, my amazement grew.  This girl was actually talking to me, and being nice, and seemed interested in me.  Could it be?  Could I actually have a friend?  I did.  I was lucky enough to meet Kellee Gulck, and from that day, Cumberland became my home.  I eventually went on to be a Sentinel, and I still have my letter jacket to prove it.  I was on the Rifle Squad - no, not shooting, twirling - so I performed at every football game.  My heart still skips a beat when I hear "Anchors Aweigh" which was the tune used for our fight song.  And I can still march 10 yards in 8 steps. 

We moved from Cumberland when I was 17.  College and life have happened in the 20 years since high school, and if not for the power of social networking, I would never know that Fort Hill was robbed of their States chances last weekend.  Not that knowing materially changed my day, but somehow it's nice to know that those traditions are still there and that part of my childhood lives on.  Cumberland seemed like a hick town when we drove in, but it was a great place to be a kid and I'll alway consider myself priviledged to have lived there.