FAREWELL, MY B.F.F.s

By Truth or Derrick

 

Well, faithful readers, the day has finally come. We knew it would, and perhaps we’ve been thinking about what we’ve wanted to say all year — nay, all our lives. And now that the moment has finally come, are we ready for this fond farewell?

 

Some of you may think I’m talking about myself here — this column. But that is where you are mistaken, my friend! Consider yourself “Punk’d,” for I am not speaking of myself nor am I speaking of the fact that this Truth or Derrick column you hold in your hand is the very last you will ever read.

 

Of course not, I am speaking of that precious moment that comes at the end of every year, indeed the very crowning moment, when we all join in figurative hands and make stuff up in nostalgic dishonesty — and sign each other’s yearbooks.

 

Let’s face it: pretty much every word of pretty much every yearbook entry ever written is completely phony. If teenagers were truly expected to “never change” during the summer, our future adult world would have the selfless integrity of a starving, enraged ferret.

 

Still, we bring ourselves to write complete garbage in people’s yearbook because we believe — even for a second — that we are popular. So even if we don’t know the name of the person asking for our autograph, we take their pen and address our remarks “Hey cutie,” or, when we’re really thinking, we furtively peruse the rest of the entries for their name.

 

To hide our lack of concern for the person, we write their entry with Sharpies. This is an extremely wise move because it allows us to write full pages — indicative of true friendship — with the number of words that a ballpoint wouldn’t even give four lines.

 

Then, to remove all suspicion that we couldn’t care less about this person, we sign with our contact information. I used to think this was silly, but one day, as I was looking through my freshman yearbook, I decided to check up on someone who left her email address and then moved that year.

 

She was about my age, maybe a year older, and I found out that she had been married shortly after she moved, was living on about a thousand acres in the Midwest with her husband and was expecting a baby.

 

Actually, don’t leave contact information. The results can really scare your friends who think they know you.

 

But however you write your own entries, the chances are high that sometime after you read this column — most likely, very shortly afterward — you will be asked to sign somebody’s yearbook.

 

In fact, you might be asked while you are still reading this column. If that happens, just tell them to simmer down, because the column you are reading is the very epitaph on Truth or Derrick’s tombstone, and that fills you will sadness.

 

So for your emotional stability and mine, let’s just forget the sad facts and stick to the topic, which is signing yearbooks. It is quite a difficult skill to acquire, so for your enjoyment and clarification, let me give you a sample yearbook signage that you may replicate.

 

Say you came up to me and said “Truth or Derrick, will you sign my yearbook?” Here’s what I would write:

 

“Dearest Reader, it has been three beautiful years. We’ve had a few laughs, a few giggles, some gasps. But mostly, we have offended people. Or, I have offended you. But I promise from the bottom of my heart that I will never forget you. You’ve stuck with me through it all, and now it has come to an end — ”

 

Ok, on second thought? Let’s skip the demonstration. It’s making my eyes well up with a strange watery liquid I am not used to.

 

Besides, you all pretty much now how to write a yearbook entry, which scares me, because a lot of exaggeration, spinning of facts and good ol’ fashioned deceit come into play.

 

I am both impressed and horrified by your aptitude. I only pray that you all become doctors or teachers rather than compete with me in the journalism world.

 

And it is with that that I enter that world. Have fun signing yearbooks, it really has been great knowing you. Even though we didn’t get to hang out much, you are all my truest friends, and you never stop making me smile. I will never forget you.

 

Stay sweet and K.I.T.