Talk about memories. A high school prom is at the forefront of one’s school days experiences. Both good and bad. Papa has a vivid recall of praying for isolation from the prying ears of brothers or parents when I made my first prom telephone call. The upstairs extension in our house was directly connected to rejection land. Or, so I feared. Today I am still amused that I mustered enough courage to actually make the call. My fingers were crosed that the expected rejection would be gentle. Fearing laugh in my face funny was unfair to the young lady but that is in retrospect 65 years later.
Now it is your turn. The two oldest have Junior Prom tomorrow. How times have changed. The land line of my day was not only connected to possible disappointment but one had to run the risk of talking with a parent who’d answer the phone. Would I stumble over her name with the gatekeeper was not an unwarrented thought. I learned that you followed a new tradition of making up an artwork poster with which to pop the prom question. Which of course put a visual in Papa’s mind. Does the young lady also need to answer with a poster? Is a yes poster more elaborate than a no poster? Has anxiety transferred from male to female in the new process? Does she have a fear she’ll grab the wrong poster answer from her backpack?
You guys are good at art. I’d bet your posters knocked it out of the park. I guess I was better off with my fears of a phone call than to try to draw stick people on an old piece of cardboard. Have all your fun. You are embarking on a journey of fond memories. Those are the best ones. They hang around for a long time; like treasures.