45 years ago, I graduated high school. And there is a story . . . . .
Last edited Fri Jun 19, 2020, 09:51 AM - Edit history (1)
June 19, 1975. HS graduation. For days, our senior class was compelled to rehearse in the Auditorium where there was the worst heat and humidity (no air conditioning). Hour after hour. Practice included watching and listening for cues. First the procession. Then finding your seat. Then standing up TOGETHER IN SYNC. Then walking across the stage to get your diploma and returning to your seat. Should have been simple. Not exactly. As could be expected, we were hot and bored and not listening carefully. I remember Mr. Melville (English teacher, later Vice Principal) called our class "the worst in the school's history." OK, whatever. (Do we still hold that title?)
We were kept longer than we would have preferred because of my row. We were the front row on stage. All we had to do was stand up together when Helene Harvey's name was called. We must have done it more than 20 times and still couldn't get it. The teachers were exasperated. We weren't far behind.
Of course, these rehearsals were in case it rained. We had the bleachers all ready for the expected outside program. Why worry? The weather predicted a clear sky for later that day. Except -- maybe 30 minutes before the beginning of graduation, a sudden convergence of black clouds covered the sky. Winds of biblical proportions whipped up. Rain smashed against the windows. Uh oh . . . . . .
And because we suddenly had to resort to our contingent plan, stuff happened. For one thing, I had to lead my homeroom to the auditorium without guidance, taking us down the wrong hallway, putting us out of order. A veritable transgression with no do-over.
I could hear the strains of the tape of "Pomp and Circumstances" (Elgar) and thought how ironic that I was marching to the stage to the recording that I myself had performed three days prior with the Band. I was starting to enjoy the surreal trappings of the ritual.
The boys had royal blue caps and gowns, and the girls, chastity white.
We somehow managed to get to our designated seats and settled down for the expected speeches and waited for the diplomas to be handed out. (My mother was president of the Board of Education and gave me mine.)
So, biding our time, half-listening to the recitation of names in alphabetical order. Helene Harvey. Our row stood up -- and together for perhaps the first time. We commanded a rousing applause and loud cheers from our classmates for such a feat.
The Auditorium was hotter and more humid than even the rehearsals. The plastic cap and gowns made us feel like we were wrapped in Saran Wrap. Graduation couldn't end soon enough.
I probably still have the diploma still mounted in the case in which it was given.
But it was 45 years ago tonight that the rest of my life began. And it was the last time all of our class was together.
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A class of less than 40 farm country souls about to learn we don't know anything......
KY..........
