Prom night--NOT
I guess I started it all by reminiscing about my accidental College Queen status. But Glenne continued!
She went to her high school prom as a reporter--with her dad. I should have thought of that--I did not go to mine.
The year is 1965; I am a 16-year-old senior at a Charleston, S.C. high school. It is my second year here after my Navy family moved from Virginia Beach to Charlestown. Somehow in changing schools, I managed to skip my sophomore year.
So I was a year younger than my classmates. I was one of the smart ones too--on the school newspaper staff and in the honor society. I probably did not endear myself to my fellow classmates by telling almost everyone at this segregated school that I didn't see what the big deal was about integration, that I had gone to integrated schools before (not Virginia, but an overseas military school).
And I was also a jock--I swam freestyle and butterfly on the local YMCA swimming team. I had a crush on the tall guy on the high school basketball team. I mean, he was tall; I was tall. He was a jock; I was a jock. I was smart; whoops! Anyway, I don't think I ever said a word to him! By the way, do you remember those guys? They were tall but today's players could probably push them over with a strong breath. That isn't him in the photo; I think he was thinner and less muscular!
Anyway, I really thought I should go. My (hah!) basketball player had a girlfriend so I cast around for another. My next choice was a lot shorter, kind of chubby, not athletic but very smart. (He got a perfect score on his math SAT.)
I doubted anyone else was going with him, so I asked him to go with me to the prom. He replied that he didn't do dances. I was part sorry and part relieved. I had wondered if he knew how to dance. I was sure he, unlike my sister and I, was not a faithful viewer of American Bandstand.
So I sat out my senior prom. But I got my revenge in college by attending lots of dances, including the Virginia Tech Ring Dance.
Now Harry says we are too old to dance!
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