We all have a special something, buried deep in our past. It’s different in everybody. For some, it might be an old flame from high school or college. For others, it might be a favorite childhood toy that was lost but never found. These are things that we loved so much, they will always be a part of us — locked away forever in the recesses of our minds, burning their images into our retinas.

The question is, when do these memories become unhealthy? What is the line between fond remembrance and sick obesession? The distance between these extremes is often a slippery slope to a rubber room.

Sometimes, we need to be reminded that the past is just that — the past. Often, this cannot be done easily, and requires a startling jolt back into reality. David, my first college roommate, never seemed to graduate from high school. He sleptwalk through his classes, listlessly ate his meals, and mumbled through conversation. He just loved being in band back in the good old days. Every weekend, one could find him at the halftime show, watching the new drill intructor for the trombones, inspecting his mistakes. I always tried to engage David in college life – hanging out in the dorm hallway, running up and down the dorm stairwells, drinking in the dorm — you know, your garden variety college fare.

One Day, David decided to “become” his high school band. He was high, no doubt induced by the adrenaline rush that accompanies listening to old band MP3s. He screamed out for his band director and proceeded to jam his trombone into the wall socket.

David, I hope you found what you were looking for. Enjoy the video!

-Andy