That first week of high school, as I watched our class band together. I realized something about these strangers I'd just met. Strangers I hardly knew. Strangers who were just like me. We were all sharing the same feelings. The same fears, the same loneliness. We were just starting out, and there was only one direction to go. So we went - together.
S5 E2Day One
S5 E3The Hardware Store
They say you never forget your first job. I know I remember mine. Harris' hardware store. Down the hill from where I lived. The year I started tenth grade. It was the kind of place you don't see much of anymore. Filled to the rafters with brackets, and bolts, and old screens. Ya know, stuff on the cutting-edge of obsolescence. It started as a summer job... but once school began, Mr. Harris cut back my hours so I could keep working. With the allowance Dad was paying me, I had no choice.
I felt him watching me. And somehow, I knew what he was thinking. How much I'd learned, how much he taught me. But I was fifteen. I lived in a world that was new and alive, and exciting. And everything here was old. Maybe it was stupid. That's also part of being fifteen. I traded in my tie for a stupid hat and a plastic name tag at the mall. When I left a month later - no one cared. But every time I pick up a flat-head screw, I think of old man Harris, and how those cowbells clanged as I walked out that door. And even though I can't say exactly what I gained... I know I can't measure... what I lost.
S5 E4Frank and Denise
Poets say love comes and goes in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, in high school, it goes more than it comes.....And then from somewhere, I don't know - it just came to me.
Love is a river, flowing where we know not. The wound is deep, yet the river is wide.
That's beautiful.
Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe I was crazy. Maybe Denise "The Grease" only knew one way to kiss. Or maybe, the most voluptuous girl at McKinley high, had just fallen for Kevin Arnold.
S5 E5Full Moon Rising
Adolescence is kind of a screwy time. A time of hope and confusion. It's a race to find out who you really are. But if there's one thing teenager knows, it's this. Stated simply... if you want to be a star... you gotta have a car. Cars - the ultimate dream of every red-blooded American kid. Cars meant freedom, status, maturity. If you were old enough to drive, the world was your oyster. But, if you weren't... your world was more of a sardine - to really stretch an analogy. Without wheels, life was one indignity after another. A series of humiliations. And faced with these constant embarrassments... you look for any small way to elevate your status. The trick was to keep your friends jealous. Fact was, we all knew the bottom-line. To be truly free and functioning high-school men, what we needed... was a car.
We didn't really accomplish anything that night. Nothing of any real importance, anyway. But through the high school years that lay ahead... there would be a thousand other nights, just like that one. Stupid, ridiculous... and glorious.
S5 E6Triangle
As I sat there, listening to my brother's pain... and the lies he told to cover it... I didn't know what to do. I knew I wanted to be with Sandy. Holding her in my arms - dancing with her. But in the end... I stayed with my brother... because, after all... he was... my brother.
The nineteen-seventies were filled with improbable events. Strange occurrences. Unexpected happenings. But nothing was quite as improbable... as my brother and his new girlfriend. It defied explanation. Sandy Tyler was a seemingly-intelligent eleventh-grader. She was smart. She was pretty. Seemed as good an explanation as any. It was amazing. By some fantastic stroke of cosmic luck, my brother had found paradise. A girl with charm. A girl with style. A girl... who used her silverware.
S5 E7Soccer
There's one in every high school in America - the trophy case. Filled with winged statues, and silver-plated victory cups... all monuments to the winning spirit. To team play. To greatness on the field. Not just anyone could get inside that case. You had to be a winner. You had to have determination. You had to have guts. And most importantly... You had to make the cut. That fall of my sophomore year, one thing was clear. No matter how hard I tried... the wide world of sports wasn't wide enough to include me. Face it. I was five-foot-four, and a hundred-and-ten pounds. What team could I play on?
That afternoon, we gave it all we had. We threw ourselves into it. We did our dead-level best. Our dead-level best... stunk. Pretty soon our problem was clear. It was our goalie's fault. But by halftime... we'd run out of scapegoats. When I got back on that field, I was mad. I'd take these guys on myself, if I had to. When that whistle blew... we actually got possession of the ball. And what's more amazing... we actually completed a pass. It was our finest hour. Unfortunately... we'd kicked the ball into the wrong net. We completely fell apart. It was like "Lord of the Flies". And that's when it happened. Pops was heading towards us to say it was over. That we had no hope of winning. That it was time to hang it up. I don't know what it was that touched him. Maybe it was the way we stuck together. Maybe it was the way we were tearing apart. But in that brief instant... Pops McIntyre became a coach again. And we were finally... a team. Sure, we lost that day. But it was a glorious defeat. After all, all over America, there were teams like ours. Teams that marched bravely into slaughter. Teams that went oh-and-fifteen, and kept on losing. And kept on trying. Not for the league titles... or the silver-plated victory cups. But just for the joy of playing. Together. The thing is... I'll never forget those guys. Even if they were dorks.
S5 E8Dinner Out
My dad was always a sucker for birthdays. Every year, he loved the ritual. The attention. The cake. Heck, we all loved the cake. But most of all, Dad loved our gifts. No matter what we gave him... it was his moment of glory. His time in the sun. His chance... to be king for a day. Unfortunately by birthday-time, nineteen-seventy-one... the king wasn't looking so... kingly. Maybe it was because he was about to turn forty-three in a week. Maybe it was the day-to-day irritations. Maybe it was something else. Face it. For the past six months, ever since he'd found out my sister was co-habitating without benefit of clergy... Dad had become kinda... monosyllabic.
That night I sat and looked at old photos of my dad. The things he'd done. His life and times. Maybe I was searching for some way to make things better. It wasn't up to me to set this right. [Kevin's parents are talking in the background] I couldn't hear exactly what they said, but watching them I finally knew what my father needed for his birthday. Not a funny tie or a forty-seven dollar meal or even a ratchet set. What he needed was to know deep down that she remembered what he remembered; feel even for that briefest moment like king for a day.
S5 E9Christmas Party
Every year when I was a kid, my parents threw a Christmas party. Everybody in the neighborhood came. Dad played the "big cheese"... Mom played "Donna Reed"... and a really stupid time was had by all. It was a time when hopes were high. When the neighborhood was young. It was fun, before fun got so... complicated. Before life got so... simple.
And I guess that's when I understood. For Mom and Dad, the party hadn't been a disaster. For as much as things were changing all around them... what Jack and Norma had - what drew people to their house every Christmas for sixteen years... was still the same. The thing they started out with. The one they'd never lose. My parents never did throw another Christmas bash. And that was OK - I guess. But I still think about those parties. What they stood for. A time before TV dinners and two-car families. And grass was green and we were young... and those nights when I'd lie awake in my bed... watching the light dance under my door. And listening... for my father's laugh.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's The Wonder Years pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.

