Last night was Senior Night at the Mondoville High School football game, as the school recognized the kids approaching the conclusion of their high school careers. One of those was the Spawn, along with quite a few other members of the marching band. Consequently, I found myself in the unaccustomed position of wearing a coat and tie as Mrs. M and I escorted her onto the field. It was a nice moment, not even marred by the misty rain and relative cold. I also have to admit that it was nice to wear the outfit somewhere other than a courthouse or a funeral.
When the Spawn came home after the game, she brought two roses with her. “These were supposed to go to the escorts tonight, but we didn’t get them ’til later. I managed to get two of them.” Which is another point: The Spawn was one of very few kids to take the field with both parents. There are a lot of Mondoville kids from what we used to call “broken homes”, assuming the homes were ever intact at all. In many respects, Mondoville is a disadvantaged community, and no doubt some of those disadvantages are self-inflicted. I think the paucity of parental escorts was symptomatic, although not entirely the result of that. Still, it was pleasing to hear the announcer talking about the kids’ plans for college and university studies in the years to come. I hope they find what they are looking for, and that it is still what they want when they find it.
On the way home, I heard one of Kurt Vonnegut’s favorite songs on the college radio station. I thought about the kids I had just seen, about my own schoolmates, and about my folks and my brother, and about Lauren Hill, and the beauty and transience of dreams and life. None of the thoughts were original, nor was the situation, but they were mine, so they’ll have to do for me.
Of course, last night was Halloween. We didn’t get back from the game until after the trick-or-treating hours were over, and although our house is only steps from the campus, almost no one knows that there are houses there. Consequently, there were no little ghosts, ghouls, or characters from Frozen at our door last night. I was sorry to have missed them, but it was probably just as well.
I checked the goodie bowl Mrs. M had prepared, and saw it was filled with… craisins, flavored, dried cranberry snacks in foil pouches. “Dear God, woman!” I said politely to Mrs. M. “What have you done?”
“They were on sale,” she replied.
“Hope you like eggs. Hell, I’m tempted to egg our house for this. Why not just give out toothbrushes? Or socks? Single socks?”
But using the wisdom she has gained from our twenty-plus years of life together, she ignored me and went on with her preparations for Senior Night. All the same, I found myself wondering… are we becoming those people? And as I said, it was probably just as well that we missed the kids.
And I hope Mrs. M likes craisins.
And for a dose of garage this morning, here’s a track from Melbourne, Australia-based teen band The Moods. From 1966 (of course), here’s “Rum Drunk.”