While life changes, memories live on

Changes. On the cusp of graduation, change is expected. But in
my 22-and-one-quarter years of life, I’ve found that
ceremonies are faux “life markers.” Adulthood
isn’t served in a neat ceremony and reception with cake and
punch. Change is ubiquitous, subtle and unnoticed … until you try
returning to the places that live only in memory. Last Thursday,
one month before graduation, without even a certificate of
completion, I bade adieu to my childhood twice in the same
evening.

The backstory After coming home Thursday night to an empty
fridge in Orange County, I headed to my favorite Mexican food joint
““ Taco Boy in Anaheim. Throughout high school, Taco Boy and
its garish lime-green-and-yellow facade became a fixture of my
water polo/swim career. It was cheap, decent and within walking
distance for between-game carbo loads at water polo tournaments.
Over carne asada burritos or carnitas sopes, teammates became
Ride-or-Die Dawgz Por Vida. Once college started, however, my
visits became infrequent, until they stopped altogether. Thursday
evening, I pulled into the parking lot craving some fine carnitas
sopes with a side of nostalgia.

The conflict Immediately I noticed something was off. The doors
were locked and, peering through the tinted windows, I found an
empty room ““ not the sunken booths, perpetually uneven tables
and East L.A.-ish ambiance of memory. In the far corner, where a
big-screen TV used to blast Mexican futbol, hung a lonely extension
cord. The plump lady with a missing front tooth who used to take
orders was no longer at the cash register, or, more precisely, the
cash register’s former locale. Johnny Time and Brad Q. Change
had shown up to my party like uninvited frat boys and trashed the
place. Frustrated and sans sopes, I drove to a nearby newly erected
strip mall and settled for mediocre Chinese food. Back at home, I
watched the Detroit Pistons eliminate the Indiana Pacers from the
playoffs. This was former UCLA great Reggie Miller’s last
game after 18 seasons. Throughout the playoffs I had cheered
Reggie, for my sake. See, Reggie was the last holdout of the
NBA’s early-to-mid ’90s-titans. Remember them days?
Growing up, “Dream Team” referred to the greatest
basketball team ever assembled (Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson,
Larry Bird …) ““ NOT to O.J.’s defense team. Golden
State’s Tim Hardaway was freakin’ defenders left and
right with his “Killer Crossover;” Charles Barkley was
a fat power forward for the Phoenix Suns instead of a fat
commentator for TNT; Spud Webb and Muggsy Bogues proved that short
guys with funny names could ball; Jordan’s Bulls and
Reggie’s Pacers waged epic battle’s against Spike
Lee’s Knicks; Charlotte Hornet Larry Johnson made a cameo as
his alter ego “Grandmama” in Family Matters (of
ABC’s heralded “TGIF” lineup) opposite Jaleel
White as “Steve Urkel.” Kobe was the name of Japanese
beef and Shaquille O’Neal played for the Orlando Magic, shot
bad movies (1996’s “Kazaam” and 1997’s
“Steel”) and recorded even worse albums (1993’s
“Shaq Diesel,” 1994’s “Shaq-Fu,”
1996’s “You Can’t Stop the Reign,”
1998’s “Respect” and, in 1999, a “Best
Of…” Honestly, I kid you not, a best-of album … meaning
there’s a “The Best of Shaquille O’Neal” CD
taking up space in a Beijing Wal-Mart discount bin at this moment).
“My” Lakers were Nick “the Quick” Van Exel,
Eddie Jones, George Lynch and Anthony “Pig” Miller.
These were the NBA’s best years, ratings and quality-wise.
Fast-forward a decade. The original Dream Team members are retired
(save Christian Laettner, who doesn’t count since he joined
out of college). Of the 1994 World Championship Dream Team II, only
Reggie, Shaq and Alonzo Mourning remain, and really ‘Zo and
Shaq belong to the generation succeeding Reggie and Jordan’s.
So I needed Reggie to keep going. He was a reference point. As long
as he kept going, then my time wasn’t up. As long as he kept
going, there’d be no impending adulthood. I didn’t have
to deal with graduations, careers or watching friends move away and
change. If he kept going, I’d still have all the time in the
world.

The denouement Permanence is an illusion. Life is flux. Or so
the ancients tell me. Rawk on, Reggie Miller. Rawk on, Taco Boy.
Rawk on.

A decade later, the kids listen to the “screamo”
music, and that kid with a glint in his eye and big dreams in his
heart grew up to be [email protected].