Thedewsperspective

My Beloved Lake Clifton

I always wanted to attend Lake Clifton.  I never contemplated going to any other high school.  There’s something about the mystique of Lake.  There was a certain toughness associated to Lake, that I wanted to embody.  The reputation of the school preceded it.  One word, Lake, echoed around the city. 

It sounded like it was spelled in all capital letters, L-A-K-E.

My big cousin went to Lake.  The coolest people in my neighborhood (Harford Road) went to Lake.  Everyone I aspired to be like, outside of my home, went to Lake Clifton.  It was mandatory that I walked the halls of Lake Clifton.  I didn’t know what, or even if I would make an impact on Lake.  But I was certain that the school would make an impact on me.  It confirmed who I was before the world tried to define me. 

I entered the building in the Fall of ’87.  High top white with the black swoosh Nike Air Force Ones.  With of course the strap hanging appropriately.  And a pair of black Bill Blass jeans with the reptile print on the front, purchased from the Dip.  And a slick shirt to match.  Yeah, I had the uniform from day one.  Aesthetically I fit right in.  I knew I belonged there.

Then I began to meet people.  My teachers were like uncles and aunts.  My classmates became like brothers, sisters and cousins.  My Principal, Mr. Oscar T. Jobe, a man’s man, became the model example of who we should aspire to be like.  He was personable.  He knew us all by name.  He engaged us, fought for us and disciplined us when necessary. 

My beloved Lake Clifton was more than just a school.  It was a family.  It was a life altering experience for me.  Many of the relationships I established then have spanned almost forty years.  Some of my oldest and dearest friends are people I met my freshman year at Lake.  They’ve supported and encouraged me throughout my life.  In all walks of my life.  And even though we’re fully grown now, gray hair or no hair at all.  The core of our relationship remains who we were when our lives were forged together at Lake.

My beloved Lake Clifton.

The building has been unused for years.  Now the building that once held our laughter, our fights, our dreams stand silent. Waiting not to be remembered.  Hallways occupied by just the hollow old memories and laughter of friends.  The ghosts of our youthfulness.  At the razing of the building now owned by Baltimore’s National Treasure Morgan State University (the alma mater of both my wife ’89 and youngest daughter ’20), we still live in the storied memory of our beloved school.  All the lessons and journeys it took for us to navigate the perils of East Baltimore during our most impressionable years remain.  Friendships and relationships still stand strong. 

I’m proud to be a graduate of Lake Clifton. 

You know, Baltimore is a high school town.  When people ask, “what school you went to”?  They mean high school, not college.  And when I say, “I graduated from Lake.”  I say it with a certain je ne sais quoi.  I graduated from LAKE.  I graduated from L-A-K-E!  One name.  One word.  Synonymous with the coolest this town ever had to offer. 

Lake Clifton, my beloved.  

 By

Cornell Dews