Owen celebrated his 75th birthday by returning to Bygone, Maine…the small southern coastal community that had infused his childhood with irrepressible curiosity and courage, and burdened his twilight years with wistful memories. Fifteen years had passed since he and Hazel had made the heart wrenching decision to leave their beloved hometown – rudely displaced from their home by a greedy city council armed with the authority of eminent domain. The Bygone council, ostensibly concerned with the future economic viability of their city, had entered into an agreement with a large construction firm specializing in the development of golf resort communities. The contract stipulated completion of the project within 5 years, and promised a 100% return on the city’s initial investment within 3 years following completion. What the city council had not planned for was a massive nation-wide recession. Once the economy began to decline, even affluent golf enthusiasts were foregoing extravagant resort experiences, instead favoring investment in their local private clubs, as a measure of ‘doing their part’. After two years of development, the construction firm abandoned the project and left only the frames of two buildings and a few orphaned golf greens, without fairways, in its wake. Unable to afford a costly legal battle, the city of Bygone accepted a modest monetary settlement, in exchange for their silence regarding the firm’s actions.
The day Owen arrived in Bygone marked exactly six months since he’d lost Hazel, the love of his life, to Alzheimer’s. His only son, Jack, had been swept away by war 3 years earlier, in a lonely fox hole somewhere in the dark mountains of Afghanistan. Owen was alone.
It was an article that Owen read in the web version of the ‘Bygone Times’ that prompted his return. The article noted that as a result of the early abandonment of the resort project, several historic buildings and landmarks had been spared during the demolition phase of the project. What piqued Owen’s interest specifically was the mention of ‘Pepperidge High School’, his alma mater. Something tugged at his heart. He couldn’t believe it was still there. Pepperidge had been out of operation since the new high school was built 25 years earlier.
Owen was now parked in the Principal King’s space, staring up in wonder at the façade of this grand brick monument to his childhood. After several minutes – or more- he didn’t know, had passed, still brushing nostalgic memories away with an involuntary sweep of his right hand, Owen opened his car door, stepped out and began to climb the steps to the main entry. He wasn’t surprised to find the weather-worn entry door unlocked. Stepping tentatively into the primary corridor, glancing to his left, a large dark wooden door caught his attention. A placard, labeled “Principal King” was still attached. Owen chuckled at the familiarity of this symbol of authority, then quickly became silent, momentarily fearful that Principal King may be listening on the other side of the door.
Owen’s next stop was the gym. As an all-county forward on Pepperidge’s basketball team in 1958, Owen lead the team to a conference championship, but more importantly, he won the attention of his favorite cheerleader, Hazel Brunswick. A “1958 All Conference Champions” banner still hung on the wall behind the home team’s basketball goal, with a picture of the team hanging just below it. And posed on one knee, in front of the basketball team, were the 6 Pepperidge cheerleaders. There she was, his angel, Hazel. Owen stared at Hazel’s teen-aged image longingly, as if willing her to step out of the photograph. It was as if she was alive and he was the one who had departed so abruptly and cruelly. Owen began to weep. He now understood that he needed to visit the school only because he wanted Hazel, wanted her smile, wanted her approval, wanted her scent, wanted her touch. He wanted Hazel and she was all he ever wanted. As if compelled by some intangible force, Owen began to move. There was one more thing he needed to do…visit his old locker. When Owen reached locker #97, he didn’t recall how he’d gotten there. Owen was surprised to find ‘Hazel’ still etched on the frame above the locker. It had been 57 years since he graduated from Pepperidge. He was also surprised to find that his was the only locker in the entire 1st floor corridor still secured with a combination lock. And he instantly recognized, by the pink tape wrapped around the shank that the lock belonged to Hazel. Owen knew that Hazel’s combination was ‘6’ ‘9’ ‘3’ ‘6’, which spelled ‘OWEN’ on a pulse dial phone. He and Hazel exchanged combinations so they could leave each other notes between classes. Suddenly Owen felt agitated. He thought he heard a sound coming from inside the locker. As he pressed his ear against metal, he heard a voice bellowing “Owen, I’m here…come back to me”. It was Hazel…he knew it! He began fumbling the lock, awkwardly attempting to dial the combination. He became frustrated and began to feel dizzy. “Owen, come back to me”…the voice got louder, then he felt warm hands grasping his wrists and heard “sweetheart, I’m here…let me help you”.
Hazel looked lovingly into Owen’s eyes and said, “Sweetheart, your therapist Jack, is here and he brought you your favorite Pepperidge Farm cookies”. Owen smiled at Hazel, but she was never certain that he knew who she was. He hadn’t spoken in 3 years since he was moved to the King Center for Alzheimer Patient care.