Time has a way of slipping through our fingers, doesn’t it? Looking at these yearbook photos from Mahopac High School’s 1990 edition, it feels like a lifetime ago, yet in some ways, the memories remain vivid. These images, captured in a screen shot dated 2017, serve as a poignant reminder of how quickly the years pass. Perhaps you’re asking yourself, How Long Ago Was 2017? It might seem recent, but as we delve into this reflection, you’ll see how even just a few years can hold a significant amount of life and change.
Two yearbook photos from Mahopac High School in 1990, featuring the author on the left and Jason Pelchat on the right.
In the photo on the left, that’s me. And beside me, on the right, is Jason Pelchat. We weren’t friends, not even acquaintances in the typical high school sense. For years, our lockers were simply near each other due to the alphabet. Brittney Pearce was on my left, and the Peltier siblings, Ken and Leana, were on Jason’s right. These were just the random alignments of high school life.
Now, thinking back to that time, and even to 2017 when these images were captured digitally, the details are fading. Twenty-seven years after high school, Jason’s voice, his expressions, even the scent of his cologne (or lack thereof) are lost to memory. I can’t recall his friends or rivals, or even if he had any. Truthfully, only three things about Jason Pelchat remain clear in my mind:
- He was never unkind to me.
- He often wore black clothing.
- He had a connection to Krokus, the metal band famous for songs like “Long Stick Goes Boom” and “Screaming in the Night,” perhaps a relative who managed or worked with them.
And honestly, that’s about it. It’s a surprisingly thin collection of memories considering we shared locker proximity for years. Yet, recently, while browsing Facebook, I learned that Jason passed away last summer. This news brought with it an unexpected wave of sadness.
Why? Because Jason was a person. He had a family – four children, a partner, a sister. His obituary offers a glimpse into his life, asking us to fill in the spaces, to imagine the man beyond those brief yearbook snippets.
Screenshot of Jason Pelchat’s obituary, emphasizing the sudden reminder of life’s fleeting nature upon learning of his passing.
The reality of death, especially the death of someone from your own generation, is a stark reminder of life’s fragility. Youth, innocence, joy, life itself – everything is temporary. Back in high school, I’m sure Jason, like all of us, felt invincible, immortal. It’s the paradox of youth; we lack the understanding of our own vulnerability. But as time marches on – and thinking about how long ago 2017 was puts things in perspective – we begin to grasp our own impermanence. It’s a sobering realization.
I don’t know the circumstances of Jason’s life or his passing. I simply know that the kid whose locker was just a few steps away is no longer here.
And that is profoundly saddening.
In a touching tribute, Jason’s sister, Katie, shared these heartfelt words on Facebook:
I KNOW I MISS YOU…
I never knew I’d still be here without you? I never thought I would lose you so young, I never knew we wouldn’t get to say goodbye, I never knew how bad I would cry, I never knew I would never hear you apologize, I never knew how precious the memories were inside, I never thought I’d have to dream to see your face. I never thought I’d feel so alone and out of place. I never knew I would grow old without you. I never knew I would feel broken in two. I never knew the pain I would feel… Jason this can’t be real!!
