As some of our kids are rounding the bases on their senior year of high school, I thought I’d share a journal entry from 33 years ago. By the way, I don’t journal with any consistency, this was just something I did specifically for that school year. Sorry if this is lame, I’ll try to leave the boring parts out. But I often find myself trying to remember if we did the same stupid shit my son and his friends do now. Of course we did.
Friday, I turned in my English paper, went to Wendy’s for lunch with Mike and Jeff, then headed to Target for battery operated water guns. Afterwards, we went to graduation practice till about 3:15, then had the water fight to end all water fights. It started with water guns and balloons, then people started pulling out big buckets and coolers. David hit Mr. Phillips (our principal, who was a total dick) in the side of the head with a water balloon from about 35 to 40 feet. It was truly beautiful.
We did that until about 4:30 and then I squishily drove home to take a shower and get ready for our last high school dance ever. Eric’s band played but not many people showed up. They’d just started “Blister in the Sun” when this security guard came from nowhere and stopped the band mid-song. She said she had to end the dance because of all the “bad apples” getting in fights and drinking.
So the dance was over by about 10:30. Doug, Jeff, Mike, David and I met at my house and we decided to head Downtown. That was lame, and we ended up at a convenience store where I bought a bag of cookies and Coke. The highlight of the evening was seeing some guy laying out on some steps, possibly dead.
Sunday, I went to baccalaureate and then lunch with the family. I rented three movies from Blockbuster while we were out: Maniac, which I didn’t get to see, Westworld, and Shock Treatment, the sequel to RHPS. Bryan, Jay, and Mon came over to watch some of Shock Treatment with me before we went to the park to hang out with a bunch of people. When we first got there, Eric and Scott were racing around a parking lot median, in a Mercedes and Toyota Supra, respectively. Then Eric threw a log through the windshield of a car that appeared to be abandoned and took off. Everyone else (besides me, even then I knew this was idiotic) put dents in the sides and busted out the headlights for some strange reason. We made a fire at the pavilion while Katy, David, Doug, and Jay went to get s’mores fixings, Cokes, and chips. After they came back we told ghost stories.
The next day I went with Chris to alumni brunch, which had great cinnamon rolls. Later at graduation, Wade pulled out a long, red scarf as he walked across the stage. Mr. Phillips told him he would pay for that and tried to take away his diploma. I haven’t talked to Leigh Anne (a girlfriend I was ghosting) except on graduation night. She congratulated me. Today I wrote thank you notes and cleaned out my car. I’m thrilled to be graduated and can’t wait for summer – Florida is just around the corner. I’m getting scared of college (the unknown factor fear) but am excited all the same.
I can’t find anyone in that picture who resembles you. And is Juliet in there, or was she in a different grade?
I remember little of my graduation. But there’s always the highly accurate Dazed and Confused, which is set in my grad year. What they say of the 60’s is perhaps more true of the 70’s: if you remember them, you weren’t really there. I do remember one incriminating fact: I spent most of the day going various places with my late drummer friend, Buzz, who graduated with me. Outside of cursory encounters with various parents, wholesome activities would not have been on the agenda. We had a diabolical influence on each other.
I’m under the 19 in 1987.
J. was in the class of 1988.
Ah. Cradle robber.
I expected a skeezy moustache and/or much more pronounced mullet, and am somewhat disappointed at your relatively normal appearance.
I’m impressed, though, with your eclectic teenage film tastes. I didn’t realize that Westworld had been done before, and I incorrectly assumed that you meant the French film Shock Treatment. The U.K. release of the French Shock Treatment was called Doctor in the Nude, so we all need to watch that.
There is a disturbing lack of hard drugs, high-stakes financial crime, and sexually confused characters in this journal, but I think that with the property damage and the red scarf story we can probably get a prestige TV series out of it.
Why did you get special placement under the 19? Was it some sort of secret society?
I too bashed parked cars for no apparent reason. Must’ve been the punk rock. Old Toyota Supras are collectible now.
Ha ha. I was class veep, which I completely forgot about until I saw this again.