Spring Fever

Spring at the Farm
     Spring has sprung, and a young mans thoughts turn to love. I took my youngest and a friend down to watch the girls play softball, and as they walked across the field, I had a flash back. Ahhhh...thirteen. Can it really be so long ago that I was age thirteen?
      I remember when I was in junior high like it was yesterday. The drama of which girl liked which boy, who was going to sit with who on the bus to the high school, and are you going to go to "The Dance"?
      The word dance is used very lightly here. I believe it should have actually been called "The Stand Around." Yes, at Bridgton Junior High, we girls would line up on one side of the room, while the boys lined up on the other. Once in awhile, there would be an occasional couple dancing, but for the most part, it was a stare down across the cafeteria. I remember walking nonchalantly down past the boys, and a fella named Andy jumped into my arms. That was about the only contact I had with a boy at the dance, besides brushing past them in the doorway on the way to the bathroom, giggling friends in hot pursuit. We drank lots of sodas, and smiled awkwardly at potential dance partners. Then, we went home and thought..next time that kid I liked will ask me to dance.
          High school was not much better. In Mr. Hughes' class, we had to write anonymous notes about each classmate, describing them in a few words. Most said I was a nice person, but the one that stands out the most is the one that said I should update my wardrobe. HA! Apparently, they did not appreciate the softness offered by chamois shirts in a rainbow of colors. I swear, I wore one every day. Hey, what can I say..I was a farmgal. I very easily COULD have worn a flannel granny nightgown, so technically they were lucky.
          I did manage to dress up on occasion, most notably during the prom. Long, flowing Jessica McClintock dresses were all the rage during the late 70's and early 80's. My junior year, I got all dolled up in a pale yellow gown for the prom, which was ironic because I believe the Volkswagon beetle I squeezed into to go to the prom was also yellow. The pale yellow dress looked great, until I climbed into the coffin like backseat, and got grease all over the hem from the tools lying on the floor.
         Of course, my senior year was great too. Did I mention my parents hired me a prom date? Well, they didn't really hire me one. He was a family friend that got wind of the fact that I was dateless and felt bad, so he volunteered to go. We stopped and got a little "something" for the trip up to the hotel where the prom was to be held. Ahh yes, senior prom, also known as the prom where I set my corsage on fire. It was loads of fun. I think. According to Sally and others at my table, I was talking aviation..which is odd as I know nothing about planes. Ahhh yes, high school dances.
         I didn't fare any better once I got out of school either. I used to slap on my heels and hit the bars and clubs with my sister. Oh man, we cut the rug. One infamous night, I was paid a huge compliment after dancing at a club. One dashing young man with few teeth and less hair moseyed up to me in the parking lot as we were getting ready to leave, leaned in close and uttered..."You got mighty fine eyes through them there glasses." You had me at "mighty fine." Well..not really.
          So, now that my youngest is beginning the inevitable climb into adulthood, I can't help but reminisce, and shake my head. Forty years have passed since junior high. Holy smoke...So, now I will go get out of my chamois shirt, and into my granny night gown, and then watch a little television with Cliffy...and listen as Liam talks about asking his potential  young date to the next dance. Might even bring a tear to my "mighty fine eyes.."
MIGHTY FINE EYES!

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