Like many of you I suspect, Brett Kavanaugh’s recent Supreme Court confirmation debacle has caused me to question the very foundation of American jurisprudence, to ponder the role of tribal politics in a deeply divided nation and most of all to wonder “exactly where is my high school yearbook?”
It took me a few minutes, but I found it. The biggest revelation: Old yearbooks that have been stored in cardboard boxes for decades smell like boof.
My senior yearbook wasn’t signed because we got them after graduation owing to someone’s poor planning. I blame Dorothy, which you’ll understand momentarily.
The junior yearbook was a treasure trove, though. Here are some excerpts from Wallace-Rose Hill High School’s “Reminiscence ’73.”
From Diane: “Nice having you as a damn friend.” (Love her, she never was a good cusser though.)
From Mary: “Typing class sure has been fun with you, you scabby-assed, flabby-mouthed bitch. Hope we have lots more classes together next year. Stay as crazy as you are!” (Mary transferred from Southern California, where they obviously cuss better.)
From Kay: “This has been the first year I’ve gotten to know you and I still don’t.” (Ouch?)
From Robert: “Be sweet and have a good summer! I look forward to all of your smart remarks.” (Yes, well, I hope you see that I have parlayed those smart remarks into a frikkin’ career, my friend. Which makes you a VISIONARY.)
From Judy: “You give off an air of sunshine wherever you go. I hope you will always be this happy.” (OK, that’s super sweet. I expect Judy would be surprised to know that many readers replace the phrase “air of sunshine” with “toxic, incoherent, liberal drivel.”)
From Dorothy: “I sure enjoyed getting high with you in first period study hall.” (Settle down. When she writes “getting high,” Dorothy is clearly referring to a drinking game in which one gets a sugar rush from quickly ingesting a mix of Mountain Dew, Jolt Cola and sweet tea. As I recall, this was known as “the devil’s triangle.”)
From Donna: “Hope to see you this summer and in Algebra II! Stay chilly!” (This isn’t especially profound, but I included it because “stay chilly!” is something you hardly ever hear anymore. For a brief period, chilly replaced the time-tested “groovy.” Which, along with “far out,” “outasite” and “scabby-assed, flabby-mouthed bitch” were apparently very popular among young people in the ’70s in rural Eastern North Carolina.)
From Mrs. Vega, my Spanish III teacher: “Cecilia, te voy a desear marelas cosas, como que en cuentas un novio que te quinoa (I think; her handwriting was muy mal) something, something muy feliz…” (OK, I have NO idea what any of that means except for “quinoa.” You go, Mrs. Vega, predicting a trendy grain way back in the ’70s! Mucho gusto etc.!)
From Terry: “We sure have had our share of problems and misfortune this year…” (Clearly Terry took the discovery the chicken patties in the lunchroom were “all beaks all the time” a lot harder than I did, just sayin’).