Headed for Muncie, IN

During the spring semester of 1980, Rod asked me if I wanted to join him on a trip to Indiana that summer. He was planning to go to the International Theatre Arts Conference at Ball State University in Muncie. In the Drama Club, I had seen it advertised on the back of "Dramatics" magazine, which was the publication of the International Thespian Society. The ad said something to the effect that Muncie was the theatre capital of the world during this particular week in the summer. I had no idea that I would be able to go to it.

I asked my parents if I could go. There was some discussion, but they surprisingly said yes and that they would pay for it. (My parents were known for saying no to almost anything that Loyd and I requested that was going to cost a lot of money.)

This would be the first time I would go on a cross-country trip without my family. I previously mentioned the road trip to Albuquerque in which Rod and I spent the night in his car. We didn't get any sleep. We got out the next morning and met the other students from Albuquerque who would be going. The person who organized the trip was the Drama teacher for West Mesa High School, but he had just accepted a job at Albuquerque Academy. I recognized some of the students from West Mesa from the production of "Lysistrata" they had done at the Drama Festival at ENMU. There were three students from the Academy and one girl from Cibola High School.

We spent the first day driving to Oklahoma. After checking into the motel in Oklahoma City, we boys ate at a place called "Pizza Planet." The pizza tasted good at first, but then it started tasting strange. Everyone else noticed this aspect as well. I am going on record by calling it the second worst pizza I've ever had in my life. (However, they appear to still be in business. It must be because they serve beer and wine. And while I'm at it, I'll end the suspense now: The worst pizza I've ever had was at a place called Video Pizza in Roswell. They had more emphasis on their video games than their pizza. However, I ate there in 1984, so that means that for about four years, Pizza Planet ranked as the absolute worst pizza I've ever had.)

The next morning, we picked up some students from Chickasha High School who were joining us for the trip. We drove up to St. Louis, MO. That night, we went to the Gateway Arch. (I had been two years ago with my family during a spring break trip. I would also go back two years later when I went to the International Theatre Arts Conference again. That means I went to the Gateway Arch three times in five years.)

The next day, we went to Six Flags Over Mid-America. I remember me and this guy from the Oklahoma group stalking this girl around the park for the better part of an hour. After the park, the entire group did not go to a motel. We stayed on the bus all night because we were going to be in Muncie the next morning.

We got to the campus of Ball State University and the whole place is crazy! People were running around everywhere. This one girl was a mime and got on our bus and attempted to communicate where we were supposed to be. Somehow, we got the message. The boys were in the Studebaker East dorm rooms. We would be eating all our meals in the Studebaker West hall, which was next door. However, after we ate lunch, I had a lot of trouble finding my room and ran around for about an hour before I realized that my room was in a different building from where the cafeteria was located. (We actually had it lucky. Some of the girls were in one dorm room, but were assigned to eat at another building clear across the campus. That university is HUGE!)

The whole week was an endless series of performances and workshops. I can't possibly go into all those details, but I remember so much of what happened. It was a really great week in my life. (There are so many details, that I would drive everybody crazy with the minutae of what happened. As I mentioned in the previous post, I handwrote a 60-page letter. I think that why Dayz never wrote me again.)

I actually tried to meet girls to hang out with. I liked that I had something in common with everyone there. The closest I came was this one girl from Georgia. She was really cute and I enjoyed her accent. We were both in this workshop to create a musical practically on the spot. We played people who (based on actual experiences, like mine), got lost at the conference. We helped compose a song and sang it. We unexpectedly got to perform the piece a couple of times. During the finale of the first performance, she put her arm around my back. I kind of freaked out at first because I'm not used to being touched, but I put my arm around her and we finished the performance. However, she didn't do that during the second performance. We really didn't see each other after that. I wasn't sure if she liked me that way (because she was SO out of my league), but my first clue was that she didn't repeat the arm behind the back technique. It's just as well, because I didn't want to have to have another pen pal situation (although I didn't know that I would never hear from Dayz again).

An unusual thing happened a few weeks later. I got a Disneyland postcard from someone with the same last name as my Grandma Bend. I asked my Mom if she was related to anyone with the name Tesd. She said no. I wrote back and asked her who she was. She had been in the musical with me in Muncie. She had asked just about everyone for their address. I remembered her as being this girl with a British accent. I liked her, but I was too focused on the Georgia girl to give her more attention. However, I did ask her for the other addresses she had gotten. The Georgia girl wasn't on the list (even though that girl's classmate was).

Tesd and I remained pen pals for the next year. Then she went to college and I never heard from her again, either. I don't know what happened to her.

This sort of sets a pattern for me. I will find one girl desirable, but ignore other girls who might like me even when those girls have the qualities I am looking for. It would take years for me to break this pattern.

Friend Zone #1: Dayz

In my earlier posts, I mentioned how I like to come up with rules for certain things. I just realized that I never laid down the rules for determining who was an actual girlfriend. Since I am tackling the issue of being stuck in the friend zone today, I will also list my rules for determining that as well.

In order for someone to be considered my girlfriend, I have to have kissed her full on the mouth for more than five seconds. That's basically the only rule, since I never kissed a girl in some kind of casual alcohol-induced make out session.

However, the rules for being in the friend zone with a girl are a bit more complex. The first is that I have to have been interested in her as a potential girlfriend. The second is that I have to have gone out on a date with her. The third is that I needed to have spent a considerable amount of time with her before I realize that my attempts at romance are going to be futile. These do not have to happen in any particular order. These all apply to my first friend zone situation.

I've written about my previous encounters with Dayz: A fleeting few words at the Solo and Ensemble Festival, a more thorough introduction at the Drama Festival, and getting to see her briefly at the Choral Festival before I got whisked away to go on the academic trip.

But I had several more encounters with Dayz. They started by writing her a letter after the Drama Festival. I had gotten her address there. Orld and that other guy had also gotten her address after I asked first. I thought it was best to play it cool and not write a letter right away. However, the other guy bragged that he wrote her and she wrote him back and included a picture. I realized I needed to step my game up and wrote her. She also sent me a reply and a photo of her from last year. I got them within a week of writing the letter to her.

With her last name and address, I was able to locate her phone number through directory assistance. I actually would call her long distance. (Back then, long distance was a big deal. My parents used to scream at me for making long distance calls because they cost so much. I don't miss those days.) I found that she was actually willing to talk on the phone, for like an hour at a time. I couldn't believe I could keep a girl on the phone that long. I never even got to do that with my ex-girlfriend.

I got to do this a few times prior to seeing her at the Choral Festival. After I left the festival to be driven back to Artesia, a couple of the girls I was friends with in my choir hung out with Dayz. They later told me that she mentioned that she had a boyfriend. They asked, "What about Fayd?" She replied that while she thought I was a nice guy, she wasn't interested in having me for a boyfriend. I was crushed. I realized that I would never get to be closer to her the way I wanted to be. However, she still showed interest in being my friend. I decided to just keep being her friend and seeing if there was a possibility it would lead to something else.

But I soon found out I wasn't going to get that chance. Before the end of the school year, she told me that her father (who was apparently in the Air Force) had been transferred to Phoenix and the whole family was moving to Tempe. She knew that she was going to be moving that summer. There was a chance that I'd never see her again.

I also had a pretty full plate for the summer after my sophomore year. A few weeks in, I was going to go to the International Theatre Arts Conference in Muncie, IN with Rod. Then, Loyd and I were going to help my Dad paint the house (THE WHOLE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE). After that, I was going to be spending a week at a Rotary-sponsored summer camp. I'll be writing about those later, but today, I'm going to focus on the week I got to spend hanging out with Dayz, which happened before all that.

During the summer of 1980, Mom was taking a couple of classes at ENMU in Portales. The first week she went, she invited me to go along. That meant I would get to spend time with Dayz. I was able to verify ahead of time that she was going to be there that week. She knew I was coming. Mom and I stayed with relatives who lived on the outskirts of town.

Mom and I drove up to Portales in my car. What I did was drive my Mom to class and then go to Dayz' house to hang out with her. Then, I would pick Mom up and we'd drive back and have dinner with the relatives. That whole week is a bit of a blur. I remember going to see her Monday morning. We went out and drove around the town a bit. Then, I took her back home and hung around the ENMU campus, mostly in the library. I also saw her Tuesday morning, but we only hung out at her house for about an hour before she asked me to leave.

On Wednesday, Mom didn't want me to overstay my welcome with Dayz, so she took my car and left me there at the relatives'. I spent a lot of time walking around their ranch. I remember coming upon the livestock. I saw this thick wire surrounding the area. While I examined it using my fingers, I wondered how this wire was supposed to keep the livestock in. I then found out. I received a quick shot. It was an electric fence. That made sense.

I got to go out on an actual date with Dayz Thursday night. We went to see "Bronco Billy." Afterwards, we got something to eat. I leaned over and asked her, "Do you want to take a drag?" Her eyes widened like she didn't know what to say. Then she realized what I meant. "Oh, you mean take a drag down Main Street. I thought you meant take a drag off a cigarette."

We drove around a little bit and took her home. I went to see her Friday morning, knowing that I would tell her goodbye. In my mind, I imagined that we might hug and kiss, but she didn't even shake my hand before I left.

A few weeks later, I went to the International Theatre Arts Conference. After I got back, I wrote a 60-page letter to her that detailed all the stuff that happened to me that week. I mailed it to her, and I never heard back from her since. If I had known that I was going to instantly lose contact with her, I would have kept that letter because there was a lot of great stuff that happened and it would be nice to recall it all, including some encounters with someone who would later become rather famous as an actor. (Please note: While I may make reference to the individual when I write about the theatre conference, I will not be identifying him in this phase of the blog.)

A little more than a year later, I got to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" in Roswell for the first time. I could have sworn I saw someone who looked just like her walk into the theater. However, her hair was curly. Since I wasn't 100% convinced it was her (and I didn't want to lose my seat in the back row), I didn't approach her. There was really no reason I could think of for her to be in Roswell, so I saved myself some embarrassment.

As it is, I am unable to find her on the Internet, even with the unusual spelling of her first name. Even though I also remember her mother's name, I can't get anything to show up. I doubt she'd still have that 60-page letter anyway.

(Updated 08/01/16: I have found her profile on Facebook.)

Not long ago, I was re-reading some of my old posts for inclusion in my "From the Dorchives," in which I share old articles on Facebook. I read this post and thought I'd try to find her again. I limited my search to people with her name in Tempe, I found a shorter list of people with her name. I found a profile of someone in Phoenix. The photo of the woman looked a lot like her. I was able to look at more photos and became more and more convinced that it was her. Then I came across the item that blasted the caps off the pistons in my neurological pathways: A black and white photograph from around 1972 featuring Dayz and her siblings. This picture was hanging on the wall of her living room in Portales! That was all I needed to KNOW that this was her!

She may have been married before, but she apparently has a significant other now. It's some guy with long grey hair and a mustachio and beard. I would guess he's in his 60s, but I've found it's hard to me to judge peoples' ages by their photographs after they hit 40. He could be a lot closer to my age for all I know. She has a daughter, who appears to have already graduated from college. From what I can tell, the significant other is not the father.

One thing I couldn't help but notice when I started lurking on her profile was how GREAT she still looks. Even with a little age-related weight gain, she is still out of my league. (But considering her significant other, maybe just a couple of positive statistics away.) In some of the photographs, if they're taken from a distance of at least ten feet and she is smiling, she still looks like the 16-year-old that I remember so well.

Her profile lists all the places she's lived. She starts with San Jose, CA in 1964 and shows she lived in places like Thailand and Turkey before her family moved to Portales in 1975. It doesn't list Phoenix in 1980 (but maybe that's because Facebook doesn't list locations more than once, especially if it's where you live now), but it shows she moved to Guam in 1988 and Nevada in 1991.

One of the things that really got to me was a photograph she had of her at her uncle's house in Portales in 1983. I WAS IN PORTALES IN 1983! Unless she came over during those three week periods before or after the summer session at ENMU, I totally could have run into her and seen her again. I can't believe that here it is 30 years later and I got really upset about not seeing her then.

But that photograph showed that she had curly hair, very similar to the woman I saw at "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" in Roswell in 1981. One of the reasons I didn't think it was her in Roswell was that she appeared to be with friends (male and female) and acted like she had been there before. (No one seemed to look around like they were unfamiliar with the theatre.) But it is possible that she got together with friends when she was visiting in Portales and they all took the 90-minute road trip to see the movie. (Although I'm pretty certain the drive back would have been hell, because they wouldn't have returned until at least 3am.) But if I had seen the girl she was friends with when I met her at the Drama Festival, I would have known right away it was her.

I also found her profile on LinkedIn. She works for Arizona State University, but not in a teaching position. I sent her a request to connect, but she declined it. I'm rather disappointed. I'd hoped that she'd always wondered what happened to that boy from Artesia she knew in 1980. However, my friend request on Facebook (on which I am Fayd, not my real name) still has not been declined. But it hasn't been accepted, either.

The good thing is seeing that she is NOT Facebook friends with Orld or that other twerp from the Drama Festival. If I got upset about not seeing her in 1983, I would have been beyond angry if I saw either of them on her friends list. I just hope they've forgotten all about her.

A good girl gets pregnant

In Friday's post, I explored the bad girls I called Druds, who never seemed to get pregnant. Today, I will relate the story of a nice girl who did.

I first met Leez when I was in the sixth grade. She was a year ahead of me in school. She was brought in to play the piano for the choir. She walked in the room and I was immediately attracted to her. She had almost-medium length dark blonde hair and a few freckles. She played the piano very well and was also in band. However, once the teacher announced she was in the seventh grade, I knew that I wasn't going to get to know her on a deep personal level.

I pretty much didn't get to talk to her the entire year. When I was in the seventh grade, she was in junior high school. When I got there, she was in my Choir class. However, all I was able to do was admire her during the class and during the lunch choir. I was amazed at her talent in playing the piano. I knew she could play other instruments as well. When our choir did a presentation of "The Littlest Angel" for Christmas, she and I both played star polishers. There was a picture in the paper that included all the star polishers and we were both in it.

After ninth grade, I was looking forward to seeing Leez again in high school. But that didn't happen. She wasn't in Choir and I didn't see her in band. I didn't know where she went to. Several weeks later, my family started a Saturday morning tradition in which we all would go eat breakfast at Tastee Freez. I saw Leez there. She had a baby. It also looked like she had gotten married.

This shattered my perception of her: OH, MY GOSH! SHE HAD SEX WITH SOME GUY, GOT PREGNANT AND WAS FORCED TO MARRY HIM AND DROP OUT OF SCHOOL! I never expected this out of her. She was so smart and talented, I couldn't believe that some guy could just talk her into having sex with him.

Like Rhod in the previous post, I felt like this just stifled her ability to become someone extraordinary and it all went away just because she met a guy she could not resist. Marriage and children should have come later for her.

Every week, my family went to Tastee Freez, and I almost always saw her there. She seemed to be happy hanging out with his family. I remember her wearing a t-shirt that had an iron-on design that said "Teething is the pits!" It's supposed to be put on a t-shirt for the baby, but she put it on hers with the added phrase "Believe Me!" It pained me that I would never get to know her or become good friends.

Even though my family tradition of going to Tastee Freez lasted through my senior year, I didn't see her with her family after my sophomore year. I guess they found someplace else to eat on Saturday morning. As usual, I was not able to find Leez anywhere on the Internet. I hope she's okay and was able to find a better path after her child (and other potential children) grew up.

Eventually, I had to accept the fact that every girl is capable of getting pregnant. It doesn't matter if you're the smartest or the stupidest. I also had to realize that a girl having sex with some guy is no reflection on her intelligence. It's a choice that she is free to make, and should be able to do that without any hollow judgment directed at her. I wish I had come to this realization when I was a teenager. I would have stopped looking down on "nice" girls who got knocked up.

The Druds

In yesterday's blog post, I explored the possible reasons for why we had a high drop out rate at Artesia High School in the late 70's and early 80's. However, the explanations given mostly affected the boys. I really didn't go into what made the girls leave school. The girls accounted for about a third of the drop outs.

Some girls dropped out because they got married and pregnant, but not necessarily in that order. However, there were some other girls who had less than desirable reputations. I called them "Druds." Honestly, I don't know where I came up with that term. It probably is a shortened version of "Drug Sluts," but "Druts" doesn't roll off the tongue very easily.

It seemed like the Druds would just indiscriminately hook up with guys who bought them alcohol, weed or any other intoxicant that was likely illegally obtained. They would then consume whatever item was on hand and then go into the back of the car or pickup, take their clothes off and get down to business. The strange thing is that I rarely saw any pregnant Druds. It always seemed to be the "nice" girls who got pregnant. (More on that in the next post.)

It seems like I never had any actual classes with the Druds. They were typically in the remedial English and Math classes and probably didn't even bother to register for science.

The really bad thing is that I remember most of them when they were all much younger. I could recall when they were filled with sweet innocence. For virtually every one of them, they transformed over the summer. They didn't wear nice clothes or makeup anymore. (For some reason, the guys who slept with them really seemed to go for that "tomboy" look.) They always appeared to be completely miserable to have to go to school. I find it hard to believe that their parents would let this happen to them. However, like the boys, they may have been the children of drop outs themselves who may have done the exact same thing when they were in high school and they saw no need to disrupt a pattern they felt they were born into.

This frame of mind took its toll on one girl who seemed to have everything going for her. I met Rhod in the eighth grade. She was beautiful, intelligent and very outgoing. She was a cheerleader in the ninth grade. All the guys wanted to be with her. (I should note that while I had great admiration for her, I did not see her as a potential girlfriend. She was too much out of my league for me to even consider hooking up with her. This explains why her "name" does not end with a "z.")

She was also elected to be a junior varsity cheerleader for the tenth grade. After the first couple of spirit assemblies at the school, I noticed she wasn't on the cheer squad any more. I didn't know what happened. I still saw her around school, but I saw that she started dressing like a Drud. I guess she had somehow had her first sexual experience and decided she didn't want to be a "good little girl" anymore.

The last time I saw her was during my junior year. I was at the Circle K. I saw her waiting in the passenger seat of someone's car. I waved at her. She waved back. I was very saddened to see what she had become. In the ninth grade, I thought she was destined for greatness. That night, I just saw her destined to a lifetime of meaningless hook ups and no opportunity to go to college to achieve something substantial. It didn't bother me to see most of the other girls become Druds, because I somehow expected that of them.

I found Rhod on Facebook. She lives in Hagerman, a small community about 20 miles north of Artesia. She got married to someone, but her relationship status lists her as single. It looks like she had one daughter (whose last name does not match either of Rhod's). She did not age well. If I were to see her on the street, I would have never recognized her. However, she does appear to be happy in her photographs. I hope there was a lot of positive stuff in her life to make up for everything else that went wrong.

I'm certain there are Druds who were able to make better lives for themselves, but I have no reason to try to find out if they did. Rhod is that one exception.

The Drop Out Scam

I need to preface this post by stating that everything that follows is all speculative. I have no solid evidence to back up my claims. I only have the anecdotal evidence presented below. I would also like to point out that the issues presented are likely no longer taking place today.

When I was attending Artesia High School, we appeared to have a very excessive drop out rate. When the school year started in 1979, there were more than 300 students in my sophomore class. When I graduated in 1982, there were less than 200 of us who received diplomas. That meant we lost more than one-third of our original class.

At the time, the Artesia school system had no qualms about holding back students a grade if they failed classes. Many of them did not move beyond 10th grade from the previous year, so this actually added to our number, which more than made up for those who were left behind in the ninth grade. Add to this that the age at which someone could drop out in New Mexico in the early 1980s was 16. A lot of students turn 16 during sophomore year. (I didn't turn 16 until the early part of my junior year. My birthday is in September.)

Why were so many students dropping out? When I went to school, it looked like some of the students weren't even trying to get a passing grade. Apparently, many of the boys were the sons of drop outs who worked at the refinery. They were probably told, once it was determined they were not going to be starters on the high school football team, that they didn't need to worry about making good grades in school or impressing the teachers. All they had to do was wait until they were 16, drop out and then work at the refinery. Right away, they would start making more money than the teachers.

Other drop outs went to work for the City of Artesia. I remember one student who couldn't add two plus two in class. Two weeks later, I saw him operating a backhoe on a city street. I can't operate a backhoe. How did he learn to do this when he couldn't learn simple math? (It boils down to being able to learn how to do something you're interested in. I guess he was far more interested in construction equipment.)

So, why the accusatory title of this post? Well, I suspect that school officials were actually encouraging students to drop out. I know one person in my class who came out of the guidance counselor's office one day. He said that he was told he didn't need to come back to school. He had cut several classes and had poor grades, so they said he might be able to work at the refinery and pointed him in the direction of the state employment office located next to the Circle K. (Everyone who works at the refinery has to go there to get a job because the refinery is on Federal land.)

This made me start to wonder if the school was getting some form of kickback from the refinery for referring our drop outs to go work there. Even though Artesia is a small town, the high school had a lot of nice facilities, including a bowl football stadium, natatorium and auditorium, all of which had been built in the previous 15 years. Even the larger schools in Roswell, Carlsbad and Hobbs had nowhere near the amenities that we had. Again, I don't have any proof, but it wouldn't surprise me to find out the school got money for every student they sent over to the refinery. There may have also been similar rewards for those students who wound up working for the City that were probably channeled from the refinery.

This, if true, would only be part of the scam. The other part would be falsifying attendance records. Since we were a school in a podunk town, it wouldn't be unusual for the state board of education to not pay attention to us. I didn't even think about this until I saw the movie "Pump Up the Volume." In that movie (Spoiler alert!), it is discovered that the principal was suspending students, but reporting them as present in order to receive more money from the state. Imagine my school telling the state that more than 100 students, most of whom were experiencing attendance issues beforehand, all started coming back to school every day until the end of the school year and then decided over the summer they weren't coming back. This is the part that seems implausible. However, I remember that outside the offices of the guidance counselors, they had these posters with cartoons that urged students to stay in school. But at the same time, as it appeared with the boy mentioned above, they were actively promoting dropping out as a viable option.

Regardless of whether there were scams associated with the school drop out rate, I have to admit that it was, in part, a good thing. Most of the potential drop outs had a tendency to be disruptive in class and took valuable time away from the teacher. By the time I was a senior, that issue practically disappeared.

However, I know of at least one drawback from when I was in school: In the tenth grade, we had to take a standardized test. We didn't get the results of that test until junior year. One of the things they found out was that the student from our class with the highest score had already dropped out of school. I'm guessing he skipped a lot of classes the year before and was "encouraged" to work at the refinery. I'd like to think that the school officials were kicking themselves because losing him as a student meant that the class average on future standardized tests would drop a little bit due to his absence. I'd also like to think that if he had known he was the top student, he would have been inspired to remain in school and become something else besides a drop out employee at the refinery.

Advance rejection

Even though I was desparate for a girlfriend in high school, I still had standards for the kind of girl I was willing to date. As I have previously mentioned, I was looking to team up with someone smart. The girls I most wanted to date were among the top students in school. I wanted someone who would complement my mental abilities. However, the smartest girls also happened to be among the most attractive and sure weren't going to look to me to complement them. Even the ones closer to my league lookswise paid me no attention. They would ALL rather date the Alpha males, even the boys who were C students. (You had to maintain at least a C average in all your classes to participate in school sports. Many boys just did the bare minimum so they could concentrate more on their ability to play.)

The point I'm trying to get to is that every once in awhile, I would find that there were girls who appeared to be interested in me. The only problem was that NONE OF THEM MET MY STANDARD FOR APPARENT INTELLIGENCE. I had already made that mistake once before. I didn't want to do it again just for the sake of saying that I had a girlfriend.

One of these girls was Wynd. Wynd was a junior. She was in choir. She was tall and thin. She had long, dark red hair, freckles and dimples. She had a pleasant personality and was someone I was friendly with. She was actually attractive, but was someone my mother might say "has nothing wrong with her." I never saw her as a potential girlfriend.

During one of the choir's performances of "The Music Man," I was sitting on a bench backstage with couple of other people. She came and sat down beside me. She asked me, "Is it okay if I just sit here and flirt with you for awhile?" She started touching my shoulders. I started experiencing the feelings I used to have when I was around my ex-girlfriend. I wasn't certain if I was enjoying this.

I quickly stood up and walked away without saying anything to Wynd. I went to the other side of the auditorium. I had so many things to sort out in my head. I tried to figure out if Wynd was someone I wanted to hook up with. I mean, I liked her, but not like that. Not only was she not a good student, she wasn't a good singer in choir. If she had some semblance of talent, I could at least go with that, but she didn't, so she really didn't have anything to offer me, except the status of dating a junior. But I had already dated a senior, so that was like a step down for me.

I also didn't know what the immediate impact of me walking away was going to be. I was afraid she was going to try something again and I didn't know what I would do or what I would allow to happen. Would I let things go a little further? Would she do something to make me desire her more? Would I change my mind and actually start pursuing her?

But I think the main problem I had was that I was very much interested in someone else I thought I had a chance with: Dayz. I've mentioned her in previous posts, and she may have seemed like someone I only touched base with a couple of times, but there was a lot more that got to happen.

While Wynd and I remained friendly with each other at school for the next year, we never did talk about that incident again. I don't know if she felt hurt or rejected. I hope that she knew that the problem was me and not her.

My senior year, her mother was one of my co-workers at the women's clothing store. She popped in from time to time and we would exchange pleasantries. After I quit that job in the summer of 1982, I never saw her again. I wasn't able to locate her on-line. Some girls are going to be like that. I think many of them never list their maiden names and that's why I can't find them. In a future post, you'll find that Dayz is one of them.

Forced to escort a loser

A little backtrack here: During our school's winter break, one of the teachers passed away. He taught Distributive Education and oversaw the school's Distributive Education Clubs of America chapter, otherwise known as DECA. Even though I took the class my senior year, I was never really quite certain what the "Distributive" aspect was. Mostly, it was about how to work and do your job when you went out in the real world. You also learned a lot of useless statistics that were likely quickly forgotten as soon as your received your diploma.

The teacher was also a professional photographer and had worked at my Aunt Cind's wedding just 3 1/2 months prior. I had previously heard stories about him getting "up close and personal" to the bride and groom during the vow exchanges. It was no different at Cind and Jid's wedding. He was there, right in plain sight. Everybody at the weddings he worked remembers him clearly, but as he never shows up in the wedding photos (and this was before video recordings were done of weddings), anybody not at the wedding would ever know he was there.

After he died, the school asked my mother to take over the DECA program. Mom had taken some business classes in college, but wasn't really certain she would be able to handle the material. However, by my senior year, she had it mastered. I will write about that later.

One of the things that the club had every spring was a pageant to name the DECA Sweetheart of the year. It wasn't like a regular beauty contest. There was no swimsuit competition or talent display. The local clothing stores would allow the contestants to use some of the latest styles as a sort of fashion show of casual and evening wear. The contestants were determined by a popular vote of the club members. The top ten girls got to participate.

That particular year, they may not have had a good crop of girls to choose from. One was this shy girl named Jand. Jand was overweight and wasn't a very good student. I knew her because she was in choir. However, I also knew her as the older sister of one of my biggest crushes: Lyz.

Lyz was in my class. She was very smart, thin and very attractive. She was the virtual opposite of Jand. However, the one thing she had in common with her was that she was shy. (Interestingly enough, Lyz tried out for cheerleader a couple of times, but she had a problem ramping up the decibels in her voice. You had to struggle to hear her do yell routines in the gym.)

When you got right down to it, Jand was actually rather pretty. She was just noticeably overweight. The one cool thing about her was that she drove a purple 50's era Thunderbird to school, and the rear turn signals with the sequential lights were still functioning.

I guess she felt really uncomfortable about taking part in the pageant and was trying to get out of it. She told my Mom that she couldn't do it because she was unable to get an escort for the final presentation. My Mom said, "Well, I guess I'll have to ask Fayd to escort you." She said, "Oh, no! I think I can find someone." Well, I guess she couldn't, because my Mom still had to get me to be her escort. I really didn't want to do that, but I thought that maybe there was a chance that Lyz might see me doing her sister a favor and might like me a little better. (Spoiler alert: That didn't happen.) I'm just surprised Mom forced Jand to take part since she obviously didn't want to do it. She probably told her that her grade depended on it. That would not have been a good move on Mom's part.

One of the things the escort had to do, if the contestant won, was place the tiara on her head and give her a kiss on the lips. I was 100% certain that Jand was not going to win, but this part still made me feel uneasy. (Really, I didn't need Lyz watching me kiss her sister. Spoiler alert: That didn't happen, either.)

I had told a friend of mine that I was going to have to escort Lyz' sister for the pageant. He said, "Wow! Lyz' sister? You should ask her out!" He likely had never met her.

About a week before the pageant, I was in the Choir class. We were rehearsing for our production of "The Music Man." I was playing the part of Marcellus Washburn. During class, other members were practicing a number that I was not a part of. I sat on one side of the risers watching them practice. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jand on the other side. I shifted my focus on her without turning my head. I saw her doing the exact same thing to me. I knew what was going through her mind: "I really don't want to be seen with you at the pageant. People will think you're my boyfriend. That will embarrass me the most." Yes, EVERYBODY thought I was a loser.

The interesting thing was that all the other contestants had Alpha males as their escorts. Since I was the only sophomore among the seniors, I looked like a little kid next to them. (The next year, Mom declared that the escorts had to be members of DECA.)

The other escorts were pretty cool and included me in their group conversations during practice. We talked about the Winter Olympics. I said I preferred the Summer games. That was funny because we knew we weren't going to get to watch them because President Carter made the decision to boycott the Russian games in 1980.

During the pageant, Jand looked very uncomfortable. I was surprised she made it through the evening with her emotions intact. As expected, she did not win. (Whew!) I did not run into Lyz after the pageant. I don't even know if she was there. Since I had auditorium duties, I had to tend to those after the pageant and did not get to mingle.

At graduation, Jand was the last female to receive her diploma. Her walking partner was the absolute last person to get his. I never saw Jand again after she graduated in 1980. From my Internet searches, it appears she still lives in Artesia and may have never gotten married.

My senior year, I was going door-to-door selling some stuff for choir. I came to one door and knocked. Lyz answered the door. "Oh, hi, Lyz! I didn't know you live here!" "Well, I actually don't. I'm doing some babysitting." It's the one time that any conversation I had with her was not awkward and we seemed to be like two civilized people who got along okay. It's too bad we didn't have more moments like that.

Lyz did get married and became an attorney. She also still lives in Artesia. I'm surprised at that, because I thought she was destined for so much more. I actually thought she was as anxious to get out of Artesia as I was. She did, after all, attend college and law school in Texas. I guess I was wrong. I can only imagine that it's possible to be ultra-smart and ultra-stuck-on-your-hometown.

In my post about my friend Orld, I wrote how I saw him a few days before the 10 year high school reunion, but I didn't go. He did. A few months later, I saw him again in Artesia. He showed me the group photo of those who attended. Lyz was not in the photo. At the time of the event, I thought if I went, it would only be so I could see her. It turned out it was a good decision not to go.

I trip the light academic, Part 2

The academic part of the academic trip started the next day. (You can read about the trip up here.) I know we visited a few locations around Albuquerque, but I only remember the part when we visited the Medical School at the University of New Mexico.

We got to tour the facilities. We went into one room and they had a brain in there. AN ACTUAL HUMAN BRAIN! The tour guide picked it up like it was no big deal. Someone asked where they got the brain. They explained that many people donate their bodies to science when they die. One of the boys made a comment that the brain reminded him of the mushrooms he had eaten on a pizza the night before. Very soon after, one of the girls rushed out of the room. It was apparent that she couldn't bear the sight of a brain outside someone's body. She would make a terrible zombie.

One of the interesting things about the medical school at the time was that they would only have students from New Mexico there. One would think that they would have students from all over thew world, but they limited it to students within the state, with a few exceptions for those who come from locations that lacked medical schools.

We ate dinner at a restaurant that night. I now have to tell you about one of my crushes. Her name was Traz. She was a senior. I knew that she was the top student in her class. I also knew that she was in Student Council. She was kind of one of the main reasons I wanted to get elected to the Council. The year before, several members of the Council came to the junior high school. She was one of them. She caught my eye right away. She had long, dark blonde hair. She was smart and beautiful. She was my dream woman.

However, I didn't think she knew I existed. At the restaurant, I was surprised to find myself seated next to her. Her mother had also come along on the trip as a chaparone and was sitting on her other side. Some of us were planning to go see a movie that night and this was being discussed at the table. All of a sudden, Traz turns to me and talks to me like we've been friends forever. She told me about how, when her family went to the movies, they always arrived late and would stay through to the next show to see how the movie began. For a long time, she thought this was how you went to see movies.

I didn't try to "hang out" with Traz for the rest of the trip like I did with Dayz, but when there were opportunities, I would try to find myself next to her. This same pattern of her talking to me from time to time continued.

The movie I went to see that night was "Silent Scream." I didn't really want to see it, but it was the only movie people were going to that I hadn't already seen. There were four of us who went. I don't remember what everyone else went to see, but "Silent Scream" really stunk. Little did I know that it was the part of the beginning of a trend of "Mad Slasher" movies that would dominate the box office during my high school years. The only good thing about it is that it didn't spawn any sequels. (Traz was not among our group at that movie. I would have liked it a lot more if we were sitting together and she covered her eyes on my shoulder during the "scary" parts.)

The next day, I know we went somewhere educational in the morning, but I don't remember what. In the afternoon, we went to Coronado Center, the largest mall in the state. But there was a design flaw: No public rest rooms. I don't know if the anchor stores had rest rooms, but the only public bathroom I could find was in Burger King.

I've tried to avoid writing about going to the bathroom, but this story is kind of funny. I REALLY needed to go #2, so I went to Burger King. There was a sign on the door that said it was for customers only, but I didn't have time to go order food. I just went in. No one stopped me.

Inside was one stall and one urinal. I did my business and then noticed there was no toilet paper. I thought, "Okay, this isn't a problem. I'll just use a paper towel." I opened the door to the stall and the first thing I saw was an electric hand dryer. I immediately knew that there were no paper towels. I didn't know what to do. I then saw a strip of unused toilet paper on the floor. (At least, I hope it was unused). Yes, I had to resort to using that strip of paper to wipe myself.

This was in 1980. When I visited Coronado Center in 1984, I saw a sign surrounding construction that said they were putting in public restrooms. WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG?

The rest of the trip wasn't very memorable, except that while I was at the mall, I bought a vinyl version of The Who's "Quadrophenia." I consider that the greatest album of all time. Unfortunately, I had to wait until I got home the next day to listen to it. I did all I could to keep it intact on the way home.

Traz did not ride home on the bus. I think her mother drove her and some of the students back. I didn't get to spend any more time with her. When school resumed on Monday, things went back to the way they were, with her not noticing me as she walked by me in the hall.

More than a year later, I would occasionally see her come shop in the women's clothing store where I worked. One of those times, she kind of nodded "hi" to me. A few months later, I saw an announcement in the paper that she was getting married. I actually would wind up talking with her mother on several occasions as she worked at the credit union and helped me out in securing loans. I never asked how Traz was. I figured she got plenty of that from everyone else she talked to.

Per usual, I was able to kind of track her down on the Internet. She retains her married name, but I am not able to locate any other information, like what she or her husband does for a living. I can't even figure out what her current address is. I see locations in Artesia, Arizona and Texas, but nothing solid. In the end, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I did get to spend a few precious moments with her as my friend.

I trip the light academic, Part 1

In my previous post, I mentioned that I had to leave the Choral Festival early because I was set to go on the school's academic trip. I'm going to go into a lot more detail about that today.

In grades six through nine, the schools held assemblies at the end of the year and gave out academic awards. Whoever got the highest grade in each individual subject got the award. I never got any of the academic awards. I only got the "Certificates of Excellence." Those just got handed out in class and not in the ceremony. The only award I ever got during the presentations was for Perfect Attendance in the sixth grade, along with about 30 other students. My braces kept me from getting that award for grades seven through nine.

This is part of the explanation of why we have the annual academic trip in high school. Some time ago, the school used to have the year-end awards assembly. However, as evidenced by my experience pre-high school, it was just a few select students who kept getting all the awards, while there were a lot of really smart students who never got any. A general assembly was held, but it wasn't mandatory, so a lot of students who knew they were not going to get awards did not show up. After awhile, the students who did get the awards weren't showing up, either. (They knew they would get them later.) The school decided to honor all the top students with an academic trip and stop with the awards assembly.

To qualify for the trip, you had to have a straight A average for the fall semester, with at least four of your classes being solid credits. Our grading periods were broken up into 9-week segments, so while I didn't get straight A's for either period, everything averaged out to a 4.0 for the semester. It was the English and Math classes for which I transposed grades.

I wasn't aware until later that I had qualified for the trip. It didn't occur to me that I had gotten straight A's for the semester (nor was I aware that our GPA's were determined by the semester averages and not the quarterly periods). I got the word to come to a meeting for the trip through a teacher who told me that I was supposed to go to the classroom of the faculty member in charge of the Student Council.

I got in the classroom and there were about 30 students who had qualified for the trip. This is out of about 750 students in the entire school. I found out later there were other students who qualified and actually chose not to go on the trip, one of which was the top student from the junior class.

Basically, the trip involved going to Albuquerque and visiting a few educational locations. We would get three days off from school. It's funny. If you're one of the top students, three days off from school was not going to affect your grade in the least. If you're a C student, those three days could result in you getting a D.

There were two other Chorus students who qualified for the trip. They were both girls and seniors. The plan was for us to leave the Festival right after we finished singing. The parent of one of them (who happened to be the sister of the girl who had a crush on me in fifth grade) drove the three of us from Hobbs. We made a quick stop at her house on the way to school. The father was the principal of Roselawn Elementary. Altogether, there were five kids, each born a year apart. (Every year I was in high school, there was a member of this family in each class.) They did not live in a very nice house, so I thought. It wasn't bad, but it just seemed cluttered for some reason.

We got to the school. Classes were still in session for the last period, so we had to wait for it to be over before the teacher in charge of Student Council could drive us to Albuquerque. It was a dull trip. That teacher was not much fun to be around. I'm glad I never had him for any classes (and I'm also glad he wasn't still in charge of the Student Council the next year. He was likely the reason there was so much turnaround.)

We arrived and ate dinner at the hotel. It was just the four of us. A dull dinner. Everyone else was out ice skating. We caught up to them. I had tried ice skating during All-State. It wasn't any more difficult than rollerskating. Unfortunately, my problem (both times) was that the skates I was wearing fit my left foot perfectly, but were loose on the right foot. Yes, my left foot was larger than my right foot. It still is. I wound up with a blister on my right foot. I decided never to try to ice skate again.

We went back to the hotel. I was told I would be staying in the room with two other students. I went to the room and went inside. They told me I was supposed to be with these other students in another room. I grabbed my stuff and went to the other room. They opened the door and I told them what my "roommates" said. They told me they were wrong. I was supposed to be in there. They came out and came to the other room and knocked on the door. I said, "I don't know why they sent me over to you. I'm going to be sleeping on the couch."

One of the students' eyes widened and he asked, "You have a couch?" Just then, one of the "roommates" opened the door and everyone went inside. They were surprised at how large the room was. They had to sleep two to a bed, but in our room, two of us got a bed and I got the couch. There was also a lot more space than the other rooms. The teacher and the school's Vice Principal (who came as a chaparone) heard the ruckus outside and came into the room. One of them said, "Oh, we picked the wrong room."

It didn't seem like academics really came into play on this trip. More on Monday.

I sing in a choir

It seems like the festivals never end during the spring semester. Our choir was going to take part in the regional Choral Festival. We would be evaluated and get a grade similar to the Solo and Ensemble Festival, either a 1, 2 or 3, with 1 being the best.

One thing you may have already figured out about our choir is that ANYONE can get into it. All you have to do is register for the class. Our choir teacher told us about how the larger schools hold auditions for their choirs and if you simply lacked the ability to sing, you didn't get in. The larger schools were always able to get 1s during the Festivals. Our teacher told us that because our choir was open, we would probably NEVER get a 1 and that getting a 2 was likely the best we would ever be able to achieve. She didn't go around pointing fingers at our weaker voices, she just gave us a realistic expectation.

The Choral Festival was held in Hobbs, which was about a 90-minute drive away from Artesia. We loaded up on the bus. I was really excited about going because I knew I would likely run into Dayz there. While Orld was also in the choir, that other guy from the Drama Festival and Student Council wasn't a part of it. That would mean a little less irritation.

We arrived at Hobbs High School in the morning. We weren't scheduled to perform until the afternoon, so we watched a few choirs perform. They were so much better than us. It really doused my spirits to know that we would probably never do much better than average. Between choirs, I tried to located Dayz. I was unsuccessful

Then came time for us to all get on the bus and go out to eat. We went to Furr's Cafeteria. When we arrived at the shopping center, I saw the buses for the Portales School District driving away. That meant I missed Dayz and an opportunity to eat lunch with her. I wondered if I was ever going to catch up with her.

After we ate, we returned to Hobbs High School. When we got there, we saw the Portales buses in the parking lot. I saw students getting off the buses. I had to wait for the people in front of me to get off our bus before I could run outside. I quickly located Dayz and ran up behind her. Orld was also hot on my tail. I surprised her and she seemed happy to see me. I ignored any reaction she had to seeing Orld.

However, we didn't get much of a chance to talk because we had to go and do one last rehearsal before our performance. It was really hard for me to concentrate because I didn't know if I would get to see her again.

We waited out in the hall before we were set to go on. I saw Dayz one last time in the hallway. I recall wanting to go to a water fountain to get something to drink, but our choir teacher wouldn't let me. That meant I was going to have to sing with a dry throat. That was not fun.

We sang three pieces. Per the rules, one had to be acapella and another had to be in a foreign language. We just learned the phonetics and sang it. One the hard parts about acapella was staying on pitch. Gifted adjudicators could always tell when we wound up off pitch and we would get graded down for it.

Normally, after our performance, I would have gotten to just hang around with Dayz. However, this particular Wednesday that the Choral Festival was scheduled was also the same day the students who qualified for the academic trip were leaving for Albuquerque. I was supposed to go on that trip along with two other students from choir. However, they had arranged for someone to drive us back to Artesia after we performed and then the faculty member in charge of the Student Council would drive us to Albuquerque. I will go more into detail about the academic trip in the next blog post. Just know that it meant more days off from school.

As expected, we got a 2. I guess we could pride ourselves on the fact that we didn't get a 3.

Foiled!

The previous year in the ninth grade, I ran for Student Council for our sophomore year. There were about 15 of us running for ten slots that were available. Ever since I was in the sixth grade, I had been trying to get into Student Council. The problem for grades six through nine was that Student Council representatives were elected in the individual homerooms, and if you didn't get nominated in class, you stood no chance for getting to serve. All four years, no one would nominate me. For high school, there was just a general election that didn't require a nomination process. You could just run for the slots. (Yes, I know I could have nominated myself those years, but at that time, it just looked really egotistical and I still wouldn't have been elected. It only would have worked if no one else was willing to accept a nomination.)

We each got up and gave our speeches. For some reason, my speech was much shorter than everyone else's. I just said a few things saying I would do my best to represent the students and that was it. Everyone else made these grand statements and outrageous promises that they were not going to be able to keep. When the results were announced, I was not among the top ten. I was not listed among the two runners-up. I don't know where I placed, but I'm pretty certain it was last.

Those results were supposed to be passed on to the faculty member who was in charge of the Student Council. In the event that someone quit, the runners-up would be asked to serve, then the other people who also ran. Somehow, five of the students who were elected withdrew from the Council. I don't know why they did. (I know there was a rule that if you missed two Council meetings, they'd kick you out. That's probably what happened with a lot of them. However, it didn't make sense that they would miss meetings because you got to get out of one class a week to attend them.)

You would think that this would mean that I would be asked to serve. Well, I wasn't. I saw the faculty member in charge of the Council talking to the guy from the previous post who shoehorned his way into a friendship with Dayz. The faculty member appeared to be asking him to be on the Student Council, but I wasn't really certain that was the scope of the conversation, so I didn't say anything.

It was a few days later that I found out that he did indeed ask him to be on Student Council and he accepted. I complained to Mom that the other guy didn't even run the previous year, and I should have been approached to be on Student Council. Mom had no interest in talking to the faculty member, even though his classroom had been across the hall from hers. (In the spring semester, she started teaching a different class in a different building on campus. More on that later.)

Looking back, I realize that I should have spoken up at the time I thought something was going on. However, I didn't want to appear presumptuous and pushy, but that probably would have worked out better for me in this case. However, I'm still mad that five of the more popular students who got elected didn't think much of being on the Student Council when it meant so much to me. They shouldn't have run in the first place. Even worse, in the theme of this blog, it just made me seem like more of a loser because not only did I run for office and lose, but my opportunity to be on the Council went to someone who never even considered serving in the first place.

When elections for Student Council came for Junior year, that wasn't a problem. Only nine students ran for the ten spots, so that guaranteed me a spot. It also meant that those who ran wanted to be a part of it. They announced a write-in winner for the tenth spot, and all ten of us remained on the Council for the entire school year. The guy who took my spot for Sophomore year didn't run. I guess he didn't like being on the Council that much after all.

So, what happened to that guy? He wound up an elementary school teacher in Weatherford, TX. That means he never has to deal with a Student Council. (A side note: I should point out that I don't hate this guy. He was actually a pretty good friend for the most part. He wasn't aware that I wanted to be on Student Council, and I'm certain if I had approached him in a mature manner following his conversation with the teacher and explained my position, he would have requested the teacher ask me to serve instead. But I don't think I was capable of a mature approach at the time. I probably would have just yelled at him and made things worse.)

I act in a group, Part 2

In my previous post, I started telling what happened to me at the first High School Drama Festival I went to at Eastern New Mexico University in Portales.

The Drama Festival also included a number of workshops. There was one workshop that offered some warm up exercises. Since I would be performing that afternoon, I thought it would be a good idea to warm up for that (even though I only had one line.) I arrived at the classroom. There were some other people already there. I went to the back and took off my jacket, on which I recently had my mother sew my All-State patch on it. One of the girls said, "Oh, he went to All-State, too." I then realized these girls were at the Solo and Ensemble Festival and heard me sing. One of them was the one who had talked to me afterwards.

Her name was Dayz. She was a year older than me and went to school in Portales. She had medium-length dark blonde hair and blue eyes. I was surprised that someone this attractive would want to talk to me. She was definitely out of my league, but I felt like I had a shot with her.

Later that afternoon, we performed our play. Afterward, we were critiqued by the adjudicators. They had praise for our lead actress, who was a foreign exchange student from Germany playing an Irish woman, but they didn't seem too pleased with the production as a whole. Even though I only came in toward the end with another actor and we said one line each, we were criticized for how we brought in the body of the male lead character like it was a mannequin covered with a sheet, which it was. Honestly, we did not put that much thought into acting like we were carrying 150 pounds of dead weight. You tend not to pay attention to details like that when you only have one line.

Dayz had been sitting in the audience watching our presentation. She actually liked our production (or was maybe being nice). I hung out with her that afternoon, watching some of the other plays. Unfortunately, Orld and this other guy decided to hang out with us as well. They also thought they had a shot with her. I was irritated that I met a very attractive girl who seemed to admire me and they were trying to shoehorn their way in without giving her any reason for liking them. She saw ME at Solo and Ensemble! She saw ME wearing a jacket with an All-State patch! She saw ME carry in the body and deliver that one line in the play! They weren't even in the plays we performed. All they did was show up and start talking to her while I was in the middle of a conversation.

That night, we went to see the Univeristy Theatre Department's production of "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds." I was familiar that there was a movie with that title, but didn't know it was a play. Once there, I located Dayz and sat with her. Orld and the other guy located us and also sat with us. More irritation.

The one stunning thing about the production was that the Theatre Department mounted it on a raked stage. I had never seen that before. It was hard to concentrate on the performances because I was completely bewildered as to how the actors were able to keep from rolling off into the audience.

Our Drama Club went back to our motel that night. We didn't do anything else but go to bed.

On Saturday, we woke up and drove down to Portales. The previous two days, we had eaten our breakfast and lunch at the University cafeteria, because the school was paying for that. This particular morning, we went to the cafeteria to find it closed. I said, "Oh, yeah! I thought it would be closed. UNM's cafeteria was closed on Saturday during All-State." My teacher got mad at me for not telling her that in the first place, but that wasn't really my fault. We ate breakfast at Tastee-Freez. I had an order of pancakes. When the waitress brought it to my table, I was surprised at how large the pancakes were. I said, "I'm going to need two plates for this!" Very soon after that, the waitress brought me an extra plate. I was only kidding about that!

There was a make-up workshop that morning that would teach how to create beards and mustaches. The person who taught the class was one of the professors in the Theatre Department. I volunteered to have him put a beard and mustache on me. It was incredible. It looked real. I walked around the rest of the day with that on my face. Everyone was surprised and shocked because up to that point, I'd never had any facial hair.

I also surprised Dayz. I spent the rest of the morning hanging around with her AND Orld AND the other guy watching the productions. I asked for her address so I could write her. They asked for her address, too.

We watched the final high school production of the festival. It was a good play, but close to the end, the lights just suddenly went out. At first we thought the play was over, but it wasn't. They got the lights back on, the performance resumed, and... the lights went out again. This happened three more times. It must have been very frustrating for the actors on the stage. I know that I would have just given up and walked off if that kept happening to me.

The Festival ended with a pizza party in the cafeteria. All the schools sat separately, which meant I didn't get to spend any more time with Dayz. But that wasn't the end of her story. I'll be writing more about her in future posts.

They handed out awards for actors and productions. There were three levels of awards: Superior, Excellent and Honorable Mention. The foreign exchange student got an Honorable Mention award for the play I was in. Rod and another student from our school got Honorable Mentions for the other play we did. I got nothing, but I can't really say that I was really expecting anything for my one line, no matter how brilliantly I recited it.

We drove home. I scared Mom and Loyd with my beard and mustache. I had to take it off because there was no way it would last until I got to school on Monday. The funny thing is that, even though I am almost 50 years old now, I have never been able to grow enough facial hair to make a beard and mustache anywhere near as good as the one that I had that day at the age of 15. And believe me, I've tried.

I act in a group, Part 1

After the Solo and Ensemble festival was over and done with (see my previous post), I had to gear up for the Drama Festival. It took place every year at Eastern New Mexico University. Our school prepared two one-act plays from our Evening of One Acts to enter for judging at the Festival. I was in one of the plays, but only had one line in it.

One thing that was usually made clear was that it was not a competition. There were no winners declared, just recognition of outstanding performances and productions. The odd thing was that most other schools only brought one production. The fact that we had two presentations didn't mean we had a superior department. It just meant that our school had enough money to enter two productions.

My father was asked to accompany us on the trip. He brought his pickup to load the set pieces and transport the students' luggage. Because he was a teacher, he had to drive one of the two vans we were taking. That left me to drive the pickup.

We left at 6am. Orld and another student got to ride with me. (We found out later this was in violation of school policy.) On the way up, the pickup kept breaking down and my Dad had to keep trying to fix it. Also, along the way, we saw a semi in front of us have a blowout and run off the left side of the highway. Orld, the other student and I pulled over to see if the driver was okay. He was, so we went back on our merry way. What was normally a 2 1/2-hour trip to Portales took us 6 hours. We were exhausted and hungry by the time we got there.

We got to see a few of the productions by the other high schools. The first thing that was apparent to me that while there were a few schools whose Drama departments were of the same caliber as us or worse, there were many others that were so much better. In particular, the schools from Albuquerque had performance levels I knew that we could not match even if we tried for a million years.

During the festival on Thursday, I was hanging out with a couple of the senior girls. One of them wanted to find something for the group to do that night. After going around to the dorms, she found that there was someplace in Clovis (where our motel was) that was having a roller disco night. (Yes, it was 1980 and there were still people in New Mexico still into disco.) She thought this sounded like fun and offered it up as something to do that night.

Some of us, including myself, chose to go to the roller disco. Others, like Orld, opted to go see a movie. We went to the roller rink. We go inside and IT'S ALL BLACK PEOPLE, like that scene in "Animal House." Keep in mind that in Artesia, there probably weren't more than eight black students in our school, and we never saw them all in the same place at the same time. This was a roller rink with at least 50 black people inside, so we didn't know what to expect.

As it turned out, it wasn't a big deal. They didn't seem to mind us being there. However, at one point, we saw a black man walk in with a white girlfriend. Nobody bothered them. The other guy who rode in the pickup with Orld and me said, "You know, I can see why a black man would want to be with a white woman, but I don't understand why a white woman would want to be with a black man." Boy, were we naive.

After the initial shock at the beginning of the evening, the only other time I got nervous was when the DJ had all the guys line up on the floor for "Ladies' Choice." I didn't know what I was going to do if one of the black girls decided to "choose" me. Fortunately, that didn't happen. However, I also didn't get "chosen" by any of the girls we had gone there with. I was a loser on both counts.

On that high note, I'm going to continue this in the next post.

I sing solo

The spring semester of school is filled with all sorts of festivals, some of which we get out of school for, like I did in my last post. The regional Solo and Ensemble Festival, however, always took place on a Saturday. The festival gave those of us in choir a chance to show off our stuff to other people from other schools in our part of the state. We could each do a solo and participate in a couple of ensembles. Individual adjudicators would give us either a 1, 2 or 3. A 1 was the best rating and you got a medal. A 2 got you a certificate. I don't know what you got with a 3.

I had been able to paricipate in solo and ensemble festivals since I was in the seventh grade. That first year, the festival included the entire choir and the music teacher encouraged us to sing solos. I decided I didn't want to that year. I regretted that decision later.

In the eighth grade, I prepared a solo and my teacher predicted that I would get a 1. I sort of had a rival in choir that year. (He turned out to be one of the people who saw me get caught shoplifting.) This guy couldn't really sing. He did a solo. He was scheduled before me with a different adjudicator. While I was waiting to perform, he came up and told me excitedly that he had gotten a 1. I was surprised, but thought it added credence to the possibility that I would get a 1 as well.

I got up and performed my piece. I thought I did very well. A few minutes later, I found out I got a 2. WHAT? GET OUT OF HERE! How did the other guy get a 1 for a sloppy performance while I got a 2? It was later discovered that my adjudicator only gave out three 1's to students that day, out of at least 50 performances. One of those was a guy from our group who actually went on right before me. The other adjudicator was just handing out 1s left and right like free candy at a school yard.

The worst part about this was that the rival kept throwing that in my face, saying he was better than me. I was glad when he didn't return to the choir in high school.

I was so devastated by not getting the 1 that to this day, I still remember the name of the judge. I was tempted to actually publish her full name in this post, but after seeing that there's at least 40 other people out there with that same name, I decided against it. Besides, she's probably dead now.

At the very least, I thought I could redeem myself during the Solo and Ensemble Festival in ninth grade. However, I didn't get that chance. Despite rehearsing a solo, the festival was scheduled on one of the weekends of our school's spring break. School rules prevented students from being taken out of town while school was on break. I felt cheated again.

In the tenth grade, I was finally going to get to take part in the Solo and Ensemble Festival again. I was all pumped from my All-State experience. When I got up to do my piece, there were a lot of other students from other schools in the room. I could see them listening intently to my performance. It actually made me kind of nervous, but I got through the song and there was a lot of applause. One of the girls in the audience came up to me and told me I did really well. I would run into that girl again very soon. Stay tuned, she'll appear in future posts.

I had to sit and wait for the results to come in. When the sheet was posted, I saw that I got a 1. FINALLY! As it turned out, I was the only sophomore who got a 1. Yes, even Tad, the girl who was Ms. F's teacher's pet from the ninth grade, got a 2. I felt completely vindicated. (But do note that I didn't rub my 1 in her face. We also had different adjudicators.)

I also got 1s during the Solo and Ensemble Festivals for my junior and senior years. This made me the only senior who had gotten 1s all three years. Tad didn't get her first 1 until senior year. As nothing eventful took place the next two years, I don't need to go into detail about them later. However, I should mention that in my senior year, our teacher somehow arranged for all of us to be seen by the same judge. This meant that no one from any other schools saw me perform. There was no one new to impress. That was disappointing.

At the very least, getting the 1s made me feel like all the effort I had been putting into choir for the last few years was not a complete waste of time.

All-State, here we come!

The first week back at school in 1980 following the Christmas break was a short one for me and a few other students. We were going to take part in the All-State music concerts in Popejoy Hall on the University of New Mexico campus in Albuquerque. All-State was comprised of high school students from across the state in various choirs, bands and orchestras. From our school, we had seven people from choir and three people from band. Out of the ten of us, only one had been to All-State before.

In the weeks prior to All-State, including over Christmas break, we in the choir had to rehearse and memorize the pieces of music we were going to perform. We had to do this under the threat of being sent home from Albuquerque. And the music teachers weren't even going to drive us back. They were just throw us under, uh, on the Greyhound bus.

We left Wednesday after school in the school's two vans. As usual, it took more than four hours to get to Albuquerque. (I've always said that no matter where you live in the State of New Mexico, it's a four-hour drive to Albuquerque. It seems like anytime I moved further north in the state, it still took four hours to get there.) I got stuck in the van with the teachers. It was not as fun a road trip as it could have been, but it was still exciting to get out of school for a few days.

We got to the hotel. As I mentioned, there were 10 of us students. Five were boys and five were girls. The cheap school district would not spring for four rooms for all the students, so we all had to stay in two rooms, with two double beds and a fold out each. Guess who had to sleep on the fold out in the boys' room.

We got up the next morning and ate breakfast at the hotel's restaurant. It was all on the school's tab. We could make up for them not getting us extra space. We ordered extra orange juice. Yeah, that'll show them.

We loaded up on the vans and went to UNM. The first thing we had to do was be evaluated on our knowledge of the material before being admitted. Again, we were warned that we would be sent home if we didn't pass. While we were waiting for our "auditions," I saw one girl come out in absolute tears. I got the idea they told her to go home. We had to go into a room with an adjudicator to sing a few segments of the pieces without looking at the sheet music. The pieces we were to perform were a combination of traditional classical music with some obscure and avant-garde material. I was fine on the traditional, but the other material we had a hard time learning because we weren't sure how they were supposed to sound. My adjudicator had me do all the avant-garde pieces. I did my best. When I was done, he said, "You just barely made it!" Everyone else in our group also got to stay.

From the original audition, there were supposed to be 320 students in the All-State choir. That would make 40 for each section. I found out later that 44 people had auditioned for the Bass II section, the one I was in. This meant that there were only four Bass II's who did not make the cut. No wonder I made it. (The next year, they cut the number of people in each part to 35. I did not make All-State my junior year.)

We all filed into this auditorium in the university's music building. We were given assigned seats and sat with our sections. This was the same building that housed Popejoy Hall. Above the stage was this massive pipe organ. After a short wait, our conductor appeared. He was the choir director from the University of Southern California. (Yes, I remember his name. I'm avoiding all real names in this blog, but I'm pretty certain you can look up the name of USC's choir director in 1980 on the Internet.) He was a very boisterous conductor who could always make us laugh.

He had us get out our sheet music for the first piece, which basically consisted of the lyric "allelujah" over and over. We started singing it LOUD! I was astonished at how it sounded with more than 300 people singing it together. The conductor acted like he was being pushed back by the volume, had us stop, and told us the correct level to sing the piece at. We started over.

We then ran through each piece in the order they would be performed. I was astonished at the sound coming from this choir and was enthalled to know that I was a part of it. We got to the avant-garde pieces. They made more sense once I could hear all the parts.

Then the conductor did something odd. He had us change our seats, so that we alternated Soprano, Tenor, Alto, Bass. The girl on my right appeared to be a senior and would not talk to me. She had short dark blonde hair and wasn't very attractive. Thankfully, the girl on my right had a bubbly personality and was easy to get along with. She was also a sophomore, had short, dark brown hair and was very cute. However, at this point, I wasn't looking to get together with someone with whom I would wind up a pen pal. I don't remember her name.

We rehearsed for six hours that day. We rehearsed for six hours the next day. By the end of Friday, I had all the pieces 100% memorized. Since we spent so much time rehearsing, the music was pretty much engraved in our heads. This was likely true for eveyone else in the choir. This made me think back to the "audition" we had to endure when we arrived. It made me wonder why those in charge were so keen on sending people home if we were just going to memorize it all over the course of 12 hours anyway. I shouldn't have been told that I "just barely made it," when the adjudicators knew full well that we were going to drill the music over and over until it became second nature.

The night before the concert, we were at the hotel room. At one point, one of the guys asked me to get a bucket of ice. I went out and got one and brought it back. He put it on the balcony. The next morning, while I was taking a shower, someone came in the bathroom and dumped a bucket of ice on me. It was the same ice I had fetched the night before. At least it wasn't caught on video and posted on YouTube.

We performed our pieces in front of a packed Popejoy Hall. The audience was mostly comprised of All-State participants. Everything was fine until we got to "Shenendoah." It was this amazing arrangement that started with just the men singing. However, a few seconds in, one of the girls started coughing. And she kept coughing for a full minute during the first section. And she would not leave the stage. Everybody wanted to murder her! Even worse was that the concerts were recorded to be put on record albums and they could do nothing to eliminate that coughing. It was permanent.

The concerts ended Saturday afternoon. Immediately afterward, we all got back on the vans for the long ride home. We were all worn out from three days of solid music. It was too bad that I wouldn't get to experience that again for another two years.

One Chruddy Christmas and the Last Day of the 70s

The first Christmas after the breakup was really rough. (I'm not going to mention her name in this post. She's already been the star of eight consecutive posts and made a cameo this week. With the exception of one more appearance in the future, I resolve not to write her name, or the version of her name that I am using for the purposes of the blog.) I hated that I missed getting to spend some part of the Christmas season with someone special and had actually been looking forward to buying her a present.

As usual, we spent Christmas Eve at Grandma Bend's house, but this year was going to be different. Toward the end of Christmas Day, we were going to drive to Missouri to see where my Aunt Cind and her husband Jid lived. The night before we left for Grandma Bend's, Mom had Dad, Loyd and me open the presents we were giving each other. Mom didn't explain why we were doing a really early Christmas that year. I didn't really think about it. We had a good time opening presents. I remember getting a couple of records that I had requested.

We got to Grandma Bend's for the traditional Christmas Eve. It was the first time we got to see Cind and Jid after they got married. Seeing them together reminded me that I had no one in my life to spend the special occasion with.

We started opening presents. After awhile, I noticed I hadn't gotten very many gifts. It took me awhile to figure out that we had opened up a bunch of presents the night before and that's why I didn't get much. I only remember getting a caddy for my car. Apparently, we wanted to keep our carload light for the trip the Missouri.

We went to Missouri and came back. It wasn't a big deal, except that Cind and Jid didn't have a shower and with my long hair at the time, I couldn't stand to try to wash it in a bathtub or sink. I was glad to get home to normal running water from the wall.

As terrible as Christmas was, my spirits were boosted by New Year's Eve. I was aware for the first time that we were about to change decades. Even though I lived through the last decade change, I didn't know it was happening, even though my first unenhanced memory was from Christmas of 1969. (I don't even remember New Year's Eve that year. I probably just had to go to bed early.)

We went to Aund Pand and Uncle Rid's house. We had been there the year before and had a blast. A few months prior to December 1979, Loyd and I put our parents on the spot when Pand and her family were around and asked if we could spend New Year's with them again. Loyd and I hung out with our cousin Grid waiting for midnight. We played games, listened to the radio and watched TV. We did not sneak out of the house (we were again in the middle of nowhere), get drunk or get arrested. But it was still a very eventful New Year's Eve.

A few years ago, I watched the final episode of "That 70s Show." It ends with the cast running up the stairs from the basement during the final few seconds of the 70s. I was able to watch that and recall where I was when that happened.

Since then, I've gone through three other decade changes. The end of the 80s had me leaving my workplace at 11:45pm to be by myself at home. The end of the 90s was spent at my girlfriend's house watching "ABC 2000." I don't really remember the end of the 00s. I guess it didn't seem like a decade change at the time. It's like the 00s and the 10s just merged into one really long decade.

However, I knew the 80s would be huge for me, but I didn't realize the scope of what they would entail. During that decade, I would spend the majority of my high school years, graduate, attend college, get my Bachelor's degree, get my first full-time job, quit it in a huff, move to Denver, and come close to getting married for the first time. That's a lot to have happen in a ten-year span.

I've got plenty to write about on this blog.