As I sit here today remembering high school and flipping through the photographs in my senior memory book, the main thing that stands out for me is that I was constantly busy with a plethora of activities and school work. Back in the day I longed for close friendships. I was acquainted with a lot of people, but not really close friends with any of them. My high school years were filled with music, theatre, and art. I have written before about my involvement with the school cross country team, but that was for only one season in senior year.
During my time in high school I attended every single football, basketball, and baseball game whether at home or away. I remember going with my mom. She would head to the seating designated for the adult season ticket holders and I would find my way to the student section. There I would immerse myself into the midst of my classmates and have great fun cheering on the team mimicking the cheerleaders bedecked from head to toe in crimson and gold. Most people arrived at these sporting events surrounded by groups of friends. I always arrived to the student section alone.
All three years I was an active member of choir. I was in the mixed chorus my first year and then after auditioning was moved into concert choir as a junior and senior. I loved to sing and especially loved how our voices blended. I began choir as a first soprano, and by my last year my voice had dropped to 2nd alto. In my last year all seniors were required to sing a solo for contest. Except for that one occurrence, I always sang in ensembles or with the entire choir earning several gold medals during my time there. I was always happier blending into the woodwork than being in the spotlight.
Another course that I took every single year was Technical Theatre. I loved what went on behind the scenes of the stage. I busied myself painting scenery, helping to organize the costumes, learning how to apply stage makeup, and most importantly I began mixing the sound for all of the dramatic productions. My first job actually involved me being in charge of all the sound production needing done for any of the professional groups that graced the high school stage during my time there from the production of Don Quixote to monthly travelogues.
When I wasn’t singing or backstage, I was creating art. A big part of my day was devoted to art classes’ especially senior year. During my last year in high school I was busy working on an advance placement portfolio for college credit. I have always adored creating the human form and that was my thesis. I created the human form in every medium imaginable that year from pastel to watercolor to sculpture. My work was featured in the high school magazine, exhibited at the Midwest Museum of American Art, and included in a special exhibition at the local hospital. I also was an active member of pep club and decorated an athlete’s locker on game day all school year long.
In senior year I was inducted into the National Honor Society and added their meetings to my list of things to do. Outside of school, I remained active in 4-H serving as an officer of my club for 5 of the 6 years I was an active member. Thinking back on it now, it is no wonder that I was acquainted with a lot of people in school. I was involved in a lot of groups and it would have been hard not to be.
Boys never knew I existed in high school. I went to dances alone and met up with friends once there. Occasionally a boy would ask me to dance a slow song, but there were never any big romances. As far as the male population went, I didn’t exist. I certainly wasn’t the girl they wanted to date or take to the prom. I never went to any of those big formal dances. I can honestly say I was never asked. Being apart of the National Honor Society who hosted the Winter Formal, I remember going in as the last people were leaving to clean up the mess. If that wasn’t a kick in the a$$ senior year, I don’t know what was. It was right down depressing. The drama club hosted a dance too, but at least that one wasn’t a formal and I had the great pleasure of creating a jungle mural in pastels for that occasion.
By the time graduation rolled around I was anxious to shake the dust of Memorial High School from my sneakers and look toward the future. I had given up on ever forming close lasting relationships with any of my classmates. As I have come to know myself better over the years, I don’t blame my classmates entirely anymore. Now I realize that even then I must have subconsciously held everyone at arm’s length. I was shy and awkward then and always felt out of place. High school was a rite of passage. I survived with little desire to go back. When the reunion rolled around last summer, I avoided going. Since then I have had regrets. I should have gone and gave them the chance they never gave me at least once more until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
All during school I was constantly infatuated with someone. In my junior and senior year of high school my affections focused on one particular boy. I am ashamed to admit I chased him around school with big love sick puppy dog eyes with my tongue hanging out and drooling. Looking back, I was so pathetic!!
He was the stereotypical jock. He was quarterback of the football team, played basketball, and baseball. I didn’t have any classes with him that I can recall but that didn’t stop me from drooling over him and pursuing him with a vengeance. At the time I thought he was the next best thing to sliced bread. Being so athletic, he was muscular, tall, dark and handsome. All my school girl fantasies revolved around him. The only real problem with him that ever came to light was that he was head over heels in love with someone else and took great delight in telling me about it. Glutton for punishment that I was, I would call him up on the phone and listen to him go on and on about HER. UGH!!
Stupid me. I joined the pep club so I could be his locker pal. What that meant was that before every game I would decorate his locker. Since I was so artistic, I had no problem making each weeks locker decoration a virtual masterpiece. I even baked him brownies more than once. I bought season tickets for football, basketball, and baseball and went to every single game to cheer him on. It felt like everyone there knew I was there for him, which in hindsight made it even more embarrassing.
There were definite highlights to my pursuit. In senior year, the football team beat a powerhouse of a rival. The student body jumped the field in their exuberance to congratulate the team and celebrate. I made a beeline for him and tackled him. Yes I admit it! I took my opportunity, ran with it, and jumped his bones rolling around in the mud!! It gave me the perfect excuse, and I took it!! All these years later, I still remember how fun that was.
By my senior year my affection began to wane due to his constant proclamations of love for this other girl. He never asked me out, never asked me to the winter formal, or the prom. He took her. Go figure. I stayed home. By graduation, I had given up the ghost realizing that it had been a worthy pursuit…but it was over.
The following fall I was home from college and went to a basketball game. To my shock he came up to me and embraced me. I will never forget it. He was all over me like a bad rash. As we sat on the bleachers he told me how he had went to see that girl and found her with someone else. He was devastated and was looking to me for comfort. I could have took this opportunity and ran with it. All those years of rejection welled up inside me at that moment and I blew him off and was happy to do so. I have to admit that I took complete pleasure in turning the tables on him and being a complete bitch.
Although I have always felt a little guilty for the way I treated him on that night, the other part of me feels vindicated and was more than happy to move on. His shiny armor had fallen and revealed the a$$ he had always been in glaring light. It made me wish I hadn’t wasted all of high school pining for someone who didn’t give a tinker’s damn if I lived or died. Sure, he was gorgeous…but in the end he really wasn’t very nice at all.
He broke my heart with his rejection and in hindsight all these years later I can’t imagine what I seen in him! If it hadn't hurt so bad at the time, it wouldn’t be called a crush would it?? Thank heavens my husband came along and swept me off my feet so I could finally know what it felt like to be loved and cherished. It is good to know that there is a soul mate for everyone and you probably won't find him the first place you look. Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a truckers wife.
