Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Reuniting and it feels so good...

So, back in the day (the day being 1985-1989) I was a Redskin. Obviously, this was a different time. I went to a school where our mascot was Chief Mac. If you knew us, you might have referred to us as "River Rats" as a river flowed right in front of our school. And what a school it was. North Side High School. There was a place for all of us, whether it be the sanctioned smoking area or one of the gyms, or even just hanging out in the round by the lockers. You could find your place, wherever or whatever it might have been.
We hung out at Glenbrook Mall, where there was an indoor ice skating rink and an Arbys. Arbys was special, because there were cute boys who worked there. I worked at the ice cream place and we would trade sandwiches for ice cream. Even a high school girl knows the way to a boys heart.
Had you known me in high school, you may remember me as the girl who was always asking questions. It was my job as a part of the Northerner, my high school paper. I spent many hours mocking up blue prints and publishing the paper on an Apple computer, which was a BIG DEAL back in the 80's. You could usually find me in room 113, the journalism room. I was the girl who excitedly boarded a bus on Saturday mornings to travel to a speech team meet. Yeah, that girl. I was also the girl who chased boys and wine coolers. Again, this was the 80's. We had crushes on boys with big floppy hair and acid washed jean jackets, or if he was really hot, a leather bomber jacket. And if you were really lucky, you had one too. Head to toe matchy matchy outfits from Ups N Downs or the Limited, complete with scrunchy socks and peg rolled jeans. The very definition of 80's hot.
After much soul (and Internet) searching I have my dress. I've even gone so far as to check on the feasibility of getting a cab in Fort Wayne Indiana on a Saturday night. I've also come to the realization that I'm not going to lose 20 pounds between now and Saturday. The good news is that no one else is either. My hair is not going to magically straighten, but at the same point no one without hair is going to unexpectedly grow a new head of it over the next 96 hours. So why worry? Why not just enjoy? We've had 20 years to live with these memories, now all that remains is to sit back and laugh at them and create some new ones.
So, my fellow River Rats. All that stands between us are the next 96 hours. After that, we'll have some new memories to carry us through the next 20 years. See you then...


Semi-Slacker Mom said...

Thanks for the flashback. Did your tight-rolled jeans ever leave a mark on your leg?

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