30 Years, But whose Counting?

Class of 1983.  I remember thinking that date was sooo far away and that it would NEVER come.  I just knew I would be in school forever.  Stockbridge High School, my school, was one of the two High Schools in Henry County at that time.  We had no security guards because school violence was unheard of.  All of us lived in mortal fear of Mr. Pridmore, our principal and none of us wanted to be sent to "in-house" suspension.   But that fear didn't stop us from playing practical jokes and pulling pranks, we went cow tipping, had the ultimate cow patty fights, had pajama days and marched on the football fields at halftime, had senior skip day, held mock weddings and carried around an egg for a week, like it was a baby.  (It was supposed to prepare us for children but let me tell you after having 4, that egg was nothing like having kids.). We had club days, pep rally's, class officers (where their were real winners and losers) and a smoking section on campus.  We had Cheerleaders that actually cheered, a drill team that danced and a marching band that rocked.  We ,were SO Sophisticated,  but had never heard of a computer.  Cell phones had not been invented yet so when you left the house, there was no life line,  if you got into a pinch then you had better have a plan and be able to think on your feet because their was no guarantee a phone would be available to you.  We loved pizza after the games and Tasty Freeze, well need I say more?

So many of these memories flooded back to me this weekend.  It was my 30th High School Reunion. How can it be that 30 years have passed since we sat on that football field in that intense Ga sun and waited for our names to be called?  30 years since Mr. Halyard assigned history homework and 30 years since Mrs. Nalley taught us English.  I look back now with such wonderful memories that I wish I had known at the time just what this era would mean to me.  The precious faces and the amazing dreams.  Oh my goodness, the Dreams! We were 18 and totally invincible.  

It was a wonderful night, my reunion this past week.  Very small but quite condensed and flavorful, like my usual Starbucks selection that calls for a double shot of peppermint.  The faces, smiles and laughter were intoxicating.  Of course the delicious prime rib, pasta and bar weren't bad either.
My sone Duke was my escort and designated driver for the evening. (Mark was in Kentucky, preparing to run the Louisville Ironman and that's another story)  My boy had a rare view into his momma's youth.  He got to meet a few of my childhood friends and was given a picture that very few children ever see of their parents.  He got to see a little bit of the teenager that his momma use to be.  Of course, my juvenile side is no surprise to my kiddos, everything from dunking them in their tubes while rafting "the hooch"  to dancing barefoot in the kitchen to practical April fools day jokes are normal fare at my house.  But I was so proud to show him my small town roots.  

Thank you Vandy, for putting that event together.  I totally get that it was a labor of love.  Also, a huge thank you to those who traveled to be there.  But I guess Im going to offer the biggest thanks goes to our parents, who had the fortunate insight to place us all in that little country high school, with Two halls and multiple bays, a out of the way band room and shop class, a simple home economics room and a typing class,  a gym from the dark ages and a central library where we had both early morning Bible Studies and all day study sessions.   We were priveledged to be there.   In a simpler, beautiful, warmer and more innocent time.
So, here's to the Class of 1983!  Go Tigers!!!