Second row center, in case you were wondering.
To tell the truth, this was the second tier of the black clique at my highschool. That's me right in the middle. As I think about it, I used to actually be enamored of second place. I had an entire philosophy about why it was better to be in second place than in first place, largely because although you weren't the winner, you could be a winner, and you didn't have the additional burden of handling the glory, and you actually knew more about the winner than anybody else. Most importantly why he didn't deserve all the glory and only got it because he beat you, and you weren't interested in being the star anyway. It was a metaphor for being black in America.
I've gave up that philosophy in 1983 about five years after this photo was shot. I actually have Peters and Drucker to thank for that. I hadn't realized until then that the managerial class of Americans actually studied anything but how to keep the other man down.
Wow. That was revelatory.
At any rate, the (darker) brothers of the Class of 78 are beginning efforts to re-network and prepare for the big 30 next summer.
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