“We all take different paths in life,
but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.”- Tim McGraw
Fountain Valley High School 50th Reunion ~ Class Of 1974
Preparing for any year's high school reunion, let alone a 50th, can entail months and many hours of work and dedication. (Can you find me? Second row, just about center on the left with a black sleeveless shirt and a big smile.😊)
And the story unfolds…
I was timid and introverted in high school and had few friends. It didn't help having acne, too many teeth, and being built like a…what did the boys say? …oh yes, like a board plank.🙄 So when my few friends didn't show up for school, I ate lunch in the bathroom…my safe place. We had 900 students in our graduating class, so it was easy for me to blend in and get lost.
When my high school girlfriend, Connie, called last year around this time and asked if I would join her on the committee for our upcoming 50th, being excited about this offer never entered my mind. The first word that came out was "No!”
“Come on, Terry, it'll be fun, and you can be in charge of decorations!" (I can! Oh goodie. NOT!🤨)
The sentence that came from my mouth next was no surprise, "No, Con, that does not sound like fun to me…at all!"
Now, Connie was the opposite of me; in high school, she had perfect skin and a well-developed frame. She looked amazing, and her hair went to her waist; it was thick and blonde. Nobody could ever use the popular joke in the 70s with her about being a dumb blonde. Her grades were high, she had a voice that sounded like an angel when she sang, and she had no problem standing up to anyone. She was in choir, on the swim team, and in the school musicals put on during the year.
How we were best friends, I couldn't figure it out. I loved my typing class and could type over 150 words a minute; I was in competitions with other schools and held my own. I was in gymnastics, and I adored art of all genres. As soon as I learned to hold a pencil, I was sketching all the time. I would sit next to my mom as a young teen and ask if I could sketch her eyes, and oh, how amazing they looked on paper. Eyes were my specialty, and she asked me once why I zeroed in on them. At that time, I didn't know, I just got lost in the shading and details of eyes. Now, if someone asked me, I would say that eyes are the windows of the soul; there is where I would experience one of the most sacred places in those I drew.
Okay, I got off the subject here, returning to my joys of school.
Our school had and still does have The Coronets Awards, it is considered the school's highest honor. My art teacher nominated me, and for everyone nominated, their names would be on a sheet of paper on the wall next to the door. Someone told me my name was on the list. I was shocked! At that time, I didn't even know what "The Coronets Awards" were. It didn't matter, though; by the way everyone excitedly gathered around the list. I knew it was an honor of some sort, even to be nominated, and my name was on it!
I was too shy and embarrassed to ask anyone what this honor was for, but when I got home, I couldn't wait to tell my mom and dad. Maybe they would know.
My mom said, "Oh, that's nice dear."
And that was about it, and I don't think my dad ever acknowledged it, so I didn't give it much thought, until I saw how the kids were the week before the event.
A few days before the awards banquet, Connie asked if I was going. I think she had been nominated for her singing and was going with her parents. When I told her no and that my parents couldn't take me (I made that up because I didn't even ask.), Con asked her parents if I could go with them, and they were fine with it. I didn't know what a banquet was, so I dressed in jeans, a casual shirt, and tennis shoes, and my hair was…just straight. When I hopped in their car, Connie was dressed up, and so were her parents. They never said anything about my appearance, and I thought they had just decided to dress up a bit. But when I walked into the gym, I was shocked, the gymnasium was transformed into an elegant dining experience. The tables looked like something one would see in Home and Gardens, and everywhere I looked, students and their parents excitedly waited for the program to start. And there I was, in jeans, wondering if I could fit under the table.
The lights went down to begin, and all I could be thankful for was that I was now in the dark. But, when the first teacher stepped onto the podium, they asked that as each student's name was called to please stand. I almost fainted. Not only were they to stand, but a spotlight from the ceiling would shine on them. And to fight the tears from showing was a battle. What could I do? Where could I go? I froze. Everyone was dressed up and looked lovely…I was doomed; this was when my survival instincts kicked in.
I pretended to be a part of the hoopla and did a pretty good job. When Con's name was called, I clapped the loudest, and when my art teacher started to call our names, I stood up like everyone else, focusing on the quiet girl who sat next to me in class. Her artwork was beyond her years, and I hoped she would win. When she did, I clapped joyfully.
When Connie's parents dropped me off that night, I walked in, told whoever was up that I was home, said good night, went upstairs to my room and cried for quite a while into my pillow.
And that was it.
It wasn't until I decided to write about Connie and our story that these memories seemed to fall out of a place I stuffed away under lock and key never to look at again. The emotions I am feeling right now are as if I am still in my teenage room and beating myself up for dressing and looking like I did that night.
Con has a memory like an elephant. She'd tell me about our past that always started with…. "Do you remember when you…." Most of the time, I didn't remember, and I would have to ask her if she was sure it was me she was talking about. She would just laugh and say, “You have forgotten about all the cool things you did, and I'm surprised because I sure wouldn't have forgotten them.”
(Forever friends!🥹)
Another vivid story I remember from high school was:
We'd be at one or the other's house, spending the afternoon getting ready for a dance that evening. Connie would be looking in the mirror and say, "oh, crap, I have a zit!" Being excited, I ran over to take a look ~ I'd have to get a magnifying glass to see it, and I was annoyed that she'd made a hissy fit over it.🙄
" Please Con, give me a break ~ look at my face, and feel better."
"No, I'm serious," she'd say, frustrated. And then, I'd throw a pillow at the back of her head, and we'd end up having a pillow fight.
I'd get her back, though; when she complained she didn't like what she had on or it didn't fit right, I'd take one of my tops out of the closet.
"Here, wear this!" And I'd put it up to her body, where it was obvious that it wouldn’t fit.
She'd grab it from me and threw it back in the closet, "Thanks a lot, Terry." And there went the pillow fight again.
She constantly moved the bed around in my room when she spent the night. It wasn't a big room and the first time she did this, I exasperatedly said, "What are you doing!?"
She responded, "The bed will look better in front of the window and we'll have more room to get out around the sides."
I angrily said, "No!!, we'd have to climb on the bed to get to the door. Stop!"
She'd disagree, saying, "Aw, come on, help me, you'll like it." I would roll my eyes and grudgingly say, okay. But, we'd put everything back before she left for home. And, when she'd come back over, and we went into my bedroom, she'd look at the furniture, put her hands on her hips, look at me, and smile.
"Okay,” I sighed. Where shall we put the bed this time?" (Sheesh🙄)
Me and Connie as Seniors ~ Gotta love those braces🙄
They say, in some ways, we never outgrow our youth ~ this was true about Connie. When I flew to her home in San Luis Obispo to head for a reunion committee gathering in Orange County this past year, we stayed at a hotel that put us in a room with two queen beds. Once we put our luggage down, I claimed one of the beds, sat on it, and looked up at her; her hands were on her hips, looking around the room with that same look from high school. I knew what was coming; when our eyes met, I shook my head no and quietly said,
"Don't even think about it, Con; we are not rearranging furniture, and I have four large pillows on my bed in reach to make that point!"
What could she say? This time, I was right, and she'd start laughing. I think about those times now, and I begin to get emotional. Those times in high school and 50 years later seem like yesterday.
She was the middle of nine kids, and I was the middle of five; okay, maybe that made it work. Connie would invite me to go with her family in the summers on vacation and she'd have me over all the time for dinners and fun outings the family would go on. I loved it…we rarely argued, and how we'd make each other laugh…continued even today. But now, we'd tell each other to stop while crossing our legs and reminding each other to do our Kegels.😅
Connie has always loved to read, which has never changed. She is the only one I know who will put a small flashlight under her pillow and a couple of books on a nightstand while traveling in case she wakes up in the middle of the night and felt like reading. To see her without a book in reach would be like sitting on a cozy couch in the wee hours of the morning all snuggled in with a cup in your hands and no coffee or tea in it. Odd, yes?
Another interesting thing about Connie that I do not remember her doing in high school, was when we would go to restaurants. We would be ushered to our table, and she would scan the dining room. When the server left to get our drinks, she would call her back and ask if we could sit at the table by the window, the inside patio, or another place she felt would be more comfortable, and the server would always say, "Absolutely." And moved, we did.
One time, once situated and we gave our order, I headed to the restroom, and when I returned to what I thought was our table, Connie was not there, and neither were our beverages and purses and then I'd hear…
"Terry! I'm over here!"
There she was, waving at me on the other side of the room next to a window or somewhere. When I reached her, she'd say excitedly, "I thought this would be so much nicer." And her smile said it all.
"Okay.” I said with a quizzical look her way, as I pulled my seat out.
When the server would come out with the food, the look on their face was, "What the?" And then look around.
Connie would yell and wave them over our way ~ "We're over here!"
Con would just smile at them and say, "We thought this would be more comfortable." How could one be annoyed with that smile?
She honestly was happy and appreciative.
One of Connie's strong traits was her "I have a voice, hear me roar" attitude. What you'd see with her is what you got, and I had no doubt where her opinions lay. Con also had a loving and fun heart from when we were young to now. I feel the foundation between us started to fill in high school and solidified through our experiences and friendship over the years.
I had changed, though; the shy, quiet, insecure me from my teenage years found my voice through the experiences of my life, and at times when I stood my ground with her determined personality, she'd stop and comment on how I'd changed, and she loved it.
One early morning about six months back, she texted and asked if I was up to talk. "Sure." When I answered the phone, she was crying. "What the! Con? Why are you crying?"
Through the tears, I heard, "I just finished your book."
I answered in disbelief. "And, you're crying? Why? What story made you get so emotional?"
"It's not just the stories…" she continued. "It's the whole book. It’s your forward, your acknowledgments, the stories about your life…you have changed from the quiet, hide behind the door, frightened girl to a woman who knows herself well and now you have your own voice and this jewel of a book to prove it. I am so proud of you!" The tears flowed, and this time, mine matched hers.
When someone you've closely known for over 50 years says something like that with such raw emotion, how can you not believe every word? My heart erupted in gratitude, and the love flowed.
Two months before the Reunion and our trip to Edisto Island, together ~ To be continued…
Connie was mesmerized by this dead tree slowly being buried by the sand and how the shells seem to have brought it back to life. She asked if I would take a photo as she went looking for shells to add.
Thought to ponder:
After reading this story, which part touched your heart and brought emotions to the forefront of your thoughts? Take a few minutes and ponder why. You may remember a memory story about a close friend. If so, connect with them and see what happens. You'll be amazed at what is rediscovered.