Post by momto4 on Jun 7, 2009 9:20:24 GMT -5
www.suburbanchicagonews.com/beaconnews/lifestyles/1609221,2_5_AU07_OSFRIENDS_S1-090607.article
Friendly rivalry
Oswego's crosstown valedictorians -- a mathlete and an athlete -- are the ultimate
June 7, 2009
By CHRISTINE S. MOYER cmoyer@scn1.com
Blake Konrardy stared out at his Oswego High School classmates last weekend, a crowd of blue and white caps and gowns, minutes away from graduating.
Principal Mike Wayne introduced him -- National Honor Society president, Illinois State Scholar. Wayne paused, then he added, Pokemon Club president.
The room laughed.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Wayne announced, "the valedictorian of the class of 2009."
Students and parents applauded ceremoniously.
"Today," Blake started, "we're adults."
About an hour later across town, Brendan Griffin stood before his Oswego East High School classmates, all dressed in blue, moments before they graduated.
Principal Jeff Craig made Griffin's introduction. "Captain of the baseball and wrestling teams, peer mediator ..."
"Brendaaaan!" the seniors hollered.
"And," Craig continued, "No. 1 in his class."
The crowd whooped with excitement.
"Well, class of 2009," Brendan said when the cheers died down, "we made it."
Brendan, the star athlete and Blake, the stand-out math student, know they're very different. But this means nothing to the Oswego valedictorians, who have been best friends, despite their differences, for years.
The boys met in junior high. They ate at the same lunch table, had many of the same classes and hung out with almost all the same friends. When the boys learned they would attend different high schools starting freshman year, Blake begged his parents to send him to Oswego East with Brendan.
Mom, Beverly Konrardy shook her head.
"I told him, 'We're not going to drive you to school every day.'"
So the boys were separated, split between Oswego's old high school and the new one. The teens' parents never expected their friendship to last, or at least remain this strong. The two high schools divided the community, Beverly Konrardy said. How, she wondered, could two teenage boys withstand a rivalry so deep?
The teens shrug off the question now as they prepare to test their friendship once again when they enroll in different colleges this fall.
It's simple really.
"We're best friends," they say.
• • •
A beat thumped from a laptop in Brendan's Oswego basement a few days before graduation.
Hunched over the computer, Brendan and Blake bobbed their heads.
"Let's do a full run-through," Blake suggested.
Brendan nodded, picking up his cell phone to check a text message.
Blake practiced the hook one more time.
"We are valedictooorians," he rapped. "Around town we're known as celebratooorians."
Brendan chuckled, looking up from the message he was typing.
The boys have written four raps together. They record in Brendan's basement, singing into the laptop's tiny microphone. Brendan pointed to the barely visible mic and laughed at the simplicity of their equipment.
"We just like rap really," Blake said.
"Blake," Brendan clarified, "likes it a little more than me."
It didn't take long, however, for the boys to tire of thinking up new rhymes. Graduation was two days away, finals were over and the last thing they wanted to do was work.
More importantly, there were the first summer get-togethers to plan, and academic banquets to prepare for in a few hours. Not to mention scheduling time to hang out with their girlfriends, Oswego High freshmen who happen to be good friends.
Blake slumped down in his chair with a sigh. "This is a busy week."
A day earlier, Brendan and Blake even picked up the same number of awards at their schools' academic banquets: seven each. The boys ticked off their honors like conquests.
Brendan snagged athlete of the year and general academic scholar.
Blake won Oswego High School's math department scholarship.
"Oh you did?" Brendan said, stopping Blake mid-sentence. "I was disappointed I didn't get that one."
The boys are as competitive with one another as their schools are. Nothing is off limits -- not grade point averages, not school sports records, not even raffle gifts won at their separate senior celebrations.
Blake won a laptop, which he promptly put up for sale on eBay.
"I already have one," he said, nodding to the computer before him.
Brendan won a massage, which "is not quite a laptop," he admitted with a hint of disappointment.
Yet it's this same competition, which the teens credit, in part, for their academic success. They pushed each other to be the best, not only in their classes, but amongst each other.
Becoming valedictorian was a challenge, Brendan admitted. But being friends with Blake helped, he said,.
Their concern for each other is deep, too. When Brendan lamented the end of his athletic career with graduation only days away and that playing sports at his Division I college was not an option, it was Blake who cheered him up.
"It's kind of sad," Brendan said. "I spent four years playing baseball and wrestling, and I'm not an athlete anymore."
Blake didn't miss a beat. "You're still an athlete in my heart."
Brendan couldn't help but laugh.
• • •
In August, the boys will each go their separate ways. Brendan will attend the University of Illinois and Blake the University of Arizona. One will study engineering and the other, business economics. Even though college has a way of changing people, they're not concerned.
When you're 18, you live in the moment. And this summer, Blake assured, the two will hang out "like four times a week."
"At least," Brendan stressed, the two sitting next to each other on Brendan's back porch, just days before giving their valedictorian speeches.
"Yeah," Blake smiled. "At least four times."
From the Storyteller
I first met Blake Konrardy and Brendan Griffin two weeks before they graduated from Oswego and Oswego East high schools, respectively.
They are articulate, for 18-year-old boys. But that's what I expected from valedictorians.
What struck me is their friendship.
Sitting side by side on Brendan's back porch that late May afternoon, the boys finished each other's sentences.
They are unabashedly very best friends despite their glaring differences.
Brendan was captain of Oswego East's baseball and wrestling teams. Blake was a mathlete and president of Oswego High School's Pokemon Club.
Yet these new graduates laugh when people point this out.
They know as teens what many adults fail to realize -- the beauty of friendship is that the differences don't matter.
-- Christine S. Moyer
Friendly rivalry
Oswego's crosstown valedictorians -- a mathlete and an athlete -- are the ultimate
June 7, 2009
By CHRISTINE S. MOYER cmoyer@scn1.com
Blake Konrardy stared out at his Oswego High School classmates last weekend, a crowd of blue and white caps and gowns, minutes away from graduating.
Principal Mike Wayne introduced him -- National Honor Society president, Illinois State Scholar. Wayne paused, then he added, Pokemon Club president.
The room laughed.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Wayne announced, "the valedictorian of the class of 2009."
Students and parents applauded ceremoniously.
"Today," Blake started, "we're adults."
About an hour later across town, Brendan Griffin stood before his Oswego East High School classmates, all dressed in blue, moments before they graduated.
Principal Jeff Craig made Griffin's introduction. "Captain of the baseball and wrestling teams, peer mediator ..."
"Brendaaaan!" the seniors hollered.
"And," Craig continued, "No. 1 in his class."
The crowd whooped with excitement.
"Well, class of 2009," Brendan said when the cheers died down, "we made it."
Brendan, the star athlete and Blake, the stand-out math student, know they're very different. But this means nothing to the Oswego valedictorians, who have been best friends, despite their differences, for years.
The boys met in junior high. They ate at the same lunch table, had many of the same classes and hung out with almost all the same friends. When the boys learned they would attend different high schools starting freshman year, Blake begged his parents to send him to Oswego East with Brendan.
Mom, Beverly Konrardy shook her head.
"I told him, 'We're not going to drive you to school every day.'"
So the boys were separated, split between Oswego's old high school and the new one. The teens' parents never expected their friendship to last, or at least remain this strong. The two high schools divided the community, Beverly Konrardy said. How, she wondered, could two teenage boys withstand a rivalry so deep?
The teens shrug off the question now as they prepare to test their friendship once again when they enroll in different colleges this fall.
It's simple really.
"We're best friends," they say.
• • •
A beat thumped from a laptop in Brendan's Oswego basement a few days before graduation.
Hunched over the computer, Brendan and Blake bobbed their heads.
"Let's do a full run-through," Blake suggested.
Brendan nodded, picking up his cell phone to check a text message.
Blake practiced the hook one more time.
"We are valedictooorians," he rapped. "Around town we're known as celebratooorians."
Brendan chuckled, looking up from the message he was typing.
The boys have written four raps together. They record in Brendan's basement, singing into the laptop's tiny microphone. Brendan pointed to the barely visible mic and laughed at the simplicity of their equipment.
"We just like rap really," Blake said.
"Blake," Brendan clarified, "likes it a little more than me."
It didn't take long, however, for the boys to tire of thinking up new rhymes. Graduation was two days away, finals were over and the last thing they wanted to do was work.
More importantly, there were the first summer get-togethers to plan, and academic banquets to prepare for in a few hours. Not to mention scheduling time to hang out with their girlfriends, Oswego High freshmen who happen to be good friends.
Blake slumped down in his chair with a sigh. "This is a busy week."
A day earlier, Brendan and Blake even picked up the same number of awards at their schools' academic banquets: seven each. The boys ticked off their honors like conquests.
Brendan snagged athlete of the year and general academic scholar.
Blake won Oswego High School's math department scholarship.
"Oh you did?" Brendan said, stopping Blake mid-sentence. "I was disappointed I didn't get that one."
The boys are as competitive with one another as their schools are. Nothing is off limits -- not grade point averages, not school sports records, not even raffle gifts won at their separate senior celebrations.
Blake won a laptop, which he promptly put up for sale on eBay.
"I already have one," he said, nodding to the computer before him.
Brendan won a massage, which "is not quite a laptop," he admitted with a hint of disappointment.
Yet it's this same competition, which the teens credit, in part, for their academic success. They pushed each other to be the best, not only in their classes, but amongst each other.
Becoming valedictorian was a challenge, Brendan admitted. But being friends with Blake helped, he said,.
Their concern for each other is deep, too. When Brendan lamented the end of his athletic career with graduation only days away and that playing sports at his Division I college was not an option, it was Blake who cheered him up.
"It's kind of sad," Brendan said. "I spent four years playing baseball and wrestling, and I'm not an athlete anymore."
Blake didn't miss a beat. "You're still an athlete in my heart."
Brendan couldn't help but laugh.
• • •
In August, the boys will each go their separate ways. Brendan will attend the University of Illinois and Blake the University of Arizona. One will study engineering and the other, business economics. Even though college has a way of changing people, they're not concerned.
When you're 18, you live in the moment. And this summer, Blake assured, the two will hang out "like four times a week."
"At least," Brendan stressed, the two sitting next to each other on Brendan's back porch, just days before giving their valedictorian speeches.
"Yeah," Blake smiled. "At least four times."
From the Storyteller
I first met Blake Konrardy and Brendan Griffin two weeks before they graduated from Oswego and Oswego East high schools, respectively.
They are articulate, for 18-year-old boys. But that's what I expected from valedictorians.
What struck me is their friendship.
Sitting side by side on Brendan's back porch that late May afternoon, the boys finished each other's sentences.
They are unabashedly very best friends despite their glaring differences.
Brendan was captain of Oswego East's baseball and wrestling teams. Blake was a mathlete and president of Oswego High School's Pokemon Club.
Yet these new graduates laugh when people point this out.
They know as teens what many adults fail to realize -- the beauty of friendship is that the differences don't matter.
-- Christine S. Moyer
