As One Phase Ends, A New One Begins. By C.P. Stringham

Top to Bottom: First day of
school 2014-15 with her sister;
dressed up for the homecoming
dance; posing with Rep. Tina
Picket after receiving her honors
cord for Rho Kappa.

I’ve been totally absent for weeks—months even and I apologize. I’m normally quite good at multitasking, but found it impossible here late. The laundry list of excuses would only bore you so I’ll only share the biggest. My oldest graduated from high school. If any of our Broads of a Feather blog readers have been through this, you will completely understand. It seems like so many more events have been added to a high school senior’s social calendar than when I was in school. On top of things like National Honor Society stole presentations, senior awards night, prom, and banquets, Syd participated in our school’s drama club which required me to drive back and forth several nights a week for rehearsals for a few months—since she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet. The latter is being worked on as we speak. We’re too rural to be without a license. It requires being driven everywhere and I’m tired of playing chauffeur. When I was her age, and living here in Bradford County, I couldn’t wait to get my license. But she and I are two very different people. I guess she likes the “Driving Miss Daisy” feeling. I did not. At her age, I wanted my freedom and a part time job for spending money.

As many of you know, my daughter is my best friend. This transition from teen to adult has been the most difficult for me. Syd seems to be handling it in stride. She knows what she wants and is doing what she can to make it happen. She’ll be attending Elmira College in the fall. Yes, it’s local, but that didn’t play a large role in her decision process. She chose Elmira because she fell in love with the historic campus, the people, and the high amount of tradition the school holds. Syd is all about history and tradition. Freshman wear purple and gold beanie caps! How cool is that? All students, unless they live locally with their parents or are married, have to live in campus housing. The college loves symbolism. They have incorporated the school flower, the iris, and the school shape, the octagon, throughout the campus. Everything is purple as well—even the rock salt they use in the wintertime to prevent slips and falls. Samuel “Mark Twain” Clemens married an Elmira native and Elmira College graduate by the name of Olivia Langdon. The college was founded in 1855 as an all-womens college and was the first in the United States to award women with bachelor’s degrees equal to that of their male counterparts. For feminists like my daughter and me, this was a big hash mark in the pros column.

Top to bottom: At Elmira College where
dorms look like Hogwarts; before graduation
with her Best-Friend-Forever-Since- Kindergarten,
Lesley. 

Graduation signified the end of childhood for my daughter and her father and I couldn’t be prouder of her. She wasn’t in the Top Ten of her class, but worked to graduate with honors. Her grades didn’t come easy for her. She’s had to work her tail off to catch up. Her elementary years could have been better, but our school always seemed to receive less attention than others in our district. By middle school, we hired a tutor to work with her to help bridge the gap. Miriam worked wonders while only meeting with her one day a week for one to two hours. In junior high, she began to shine. The level of commitment she showed was incredible. In all honesty, Syd has been our back burner child. Having a special needs sibling, who requires more attention, makes it harder for us to give as much time and financial help equally and, while we tried to be as supportive as possible, most of the time, Syd was at the helm of her own rudder as she steered towards her future.

As far as teens and their sometimes turbulent mood swings and behaviors go, my husband and I have been extremely fortunate. Syd has been very mature and level-headed. In fact, I tell people she is my mother. She’s been reining in my behaviors since she was eleven or twelve years old. “Mom, slow down. You’re driving too fast and I don’t like it.” “Mom, is that your third glass of wine?” I could go on and on. My friends find it amusing. They love teasing her. Especially Government Girl who cannot let a good quip pass her by. In the past, Michelle and I have tag-teamed her. One such time involved our New York City trip. Syd’s algebra teacher, Mr. Rogers, also offers a charter van service to supplement his teacher income. We hired him to take a group of us to the city for the day. I was researching for my book, Her Father’s Last Request. The others were along for pleasure. Prior to going on our trip, Syd made me promise not to embarrass her in front of her teacher. She made me promise Michelle would behave, too. So, naturally, I messaged Michelle about it. Syd would have been better off not saying anything to us because her plea came across as a challenge to Michelle and me and we don’t turn down a challenge. Thirty minutes into the trip, Michelle asked me how I managed to get permission from Syd’s probation officer for the trip. I told her we were able to get permission and they adjusted Syd’s ankle monitor to accommodate for the trip. Mr. Rogers enjoyed the teasing since Syd was known as a goody-two-shoes with the faculty. He knew it was all in good fun. An hour into the trip, I reminded Syd that Michelle was the LGBT program manager for the VA hospital and that her program existed to create awareness and promote acceptance. And that’s when Michelle told her that it was time for her to come out about her gender reassignment surgery. My poor daughter took it all in stride and learned a lesson about imposing rules for behavior on her mother and her mother’s friends.

Purple all around at Elmira College!

There’s nothing like watching your child walk for their graduation processional. I was happy, sad, and proud. It made me recall her first day of kindergarten when she wouldn’t get in line willingly behind Mr. Gorman to check out her new classroom. Instead, I had to join her teacher and her class as she clamped around my leg and, with each dragging step I took, listening as she begged, “No, Mommy, don’t leave me!!” Mr. Gorman assured me she’d come around. She did. She got stronger with each passing day of the school year. One more step towards independence until her senior year and graduation. It was bittersweet. I looked out at familiar young faces. Some I’d known since kindergarten. Time had passed in the blink of an eye. Speeches were made. More awards and scholarships announced. Syd received a total of three that amounted to $10,780—and the reason she can now live on campus instead of commuting. Those scholarships were all her. Her hard work. I’m hoping the privilege of attending college means even more to her because she made it happen. I think it will. I also think she will excel at college. She’ll come into her own surrounded by like-minded people. Not necessarily people sharing the same exact opinions as hers, but ones open to academic debate. She will embrace the setting and grow beyond measure and I can’t wait to see the finished product. Throughout the ceremony, she kept leaning forward and making faces with her father. They can be silly like that at times. For me, I got her 150 watt smile that melted my heart. When her row stood to get in line for their diplomas, I waited for the tears to come. They didn’t. I thought for sure they would. They did the night she got her big scholarship. But not then. I watched my daughter in amazement. This awesome young adult, making her way around the seated teachers, one of which reached out and tugged my daughter’s sleeve as she passed by her, and saw the look of accomplishment on her face. She was ready. That was all I needed to see. By the time her principal called her name, I felt a new sense of calm come over me as I watched her make her way across the gymnasium to shake hands and accept her diploma from a school board member. And, just like that, her public school years ended.  

L to R: On April 12th, she made her official college decision; graduation night with the family; Lesley's present to her--a before and after picture. 

September 3^rd will be here before her father and I know it. Moving her in to the dorms will be the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I’ll be letting go. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the one dragging me away while offering words of encouragement this time around.   

Graduation night with a serious pose and pulling a
"Rory Gilmore" pose. 

Her grad party had an Elmira College
theme and she loved it!!!

L to R: Exciting things happened a week before graduation. First was the $10,000 scholarship she received which made it possible for her to live on campus. Then came a letter from the White House with a personalized letter of congratulations from President Obama--courtesy of Government Girl who works at the Department of State now.  

The Complexity of Writer's Block by Robin Janney

Curiosity - why cats need nine lives...

One of my strengths, which all too often doubles as a weakness, is my curiosity.

Especially when it comes to reading comments on a Facebook post.  There is so much unneeded negativity out there and people feel the need to share it.

There was one day at the end of January that I spotted a Facebook ad for 212 blog ideas for those people who get stumped coming up with an endless supply of ideas to blog about.  It was a download I had already gotten myself, and I was curious what other people were saying in the comments, what they thought of the bulky download which was prefaced by a long winded video we had to watch before we could actually get it.  This was actually a BIG mistake.

I'm not going to quote any of those nasty comments, but the general gist was that either Writer's Block doesn't exist, or if it does and you have/had it...then you're not a real writer.  And if you have trouble coming up with blog ideas, then you shouldn't have a blog.

And maybe if you don't have anything nice to say/comment...then keep your mouth shut?

See, the thing is - I know I'm a real writer, I've been writing one thing or another since the fourth grade.  And I've had my fair share of struggles with Writer's Block.  So yeah, I get a little pissy if you try telling me I'm not a real writer because I've struggled while looking at a blank page or computer screen.

I'm not an expert in any of this, I discover daily just how much of an amateur I am.  I can only tell you my story.  Because that's what I do, I'm a storyteller.

My writing largely started out in the area of fanfiction.  I remember trying to write an Airwolf story in fourth grade; talk about overly ambitious!  Although not nearly as ambitious as the Star Wars novel I wrote in high school!  Fanfiction writing continued all throughout middle school and high school, but I had tons of other story ideas that I would write down in notebooks for 'later'.  Lord only knows what happened to them!

I wrote my first novel, originally titled 'Dominions of Darkness' across the span of about six or seven years.  It took so long because in the early days I let a church friend read some of my draft and I got mixed reviews.  No one wants to hear, "It's good...BUT..."  She was right in saying I had to decide who my desired audience was, although that's not how she put it.  I eventually decided that writing for one genre was overrated, but at the time I was discouraged because I knew the story I had in my head wouldn't be considered "proper" Christian fiction, which is what I was being encouraged to write.  While I was discouraged and put it away, I worked on other projects that may yet see publication.  Obviously, I did finish my story, at least the first draft of it.  I remember writing furiously on the church computer trying to get it done before the service started.

What every writer does with the madness beating at their brains...

Even more the amateur then, I wrote "THE END" when I was done...and felt a door close.  What now?  I asked myself.  Do I submit it to publishing houses and start working on the sequel?  It needed a sequel since I had ended it as a cliffhanger.  Which one?  More than one?  As I began to look into who I could send it to, I tried working on the sequel...only to find that it wouldn't come together.  The harder I tried, the less it wanted to cooperate with me.  I even tried working on my Journey series, and that didn't help.  I just recently found those old drafts, although I haven't gone through them yet to see if there is anything I can use.

So I shelved it.  I emailed myself a copy of my draft for back up, which given how floppies are old news now it was a good thing I did.  I tried blogging, but as life distracted me more and more I did that less and less.  I ended up moving back home with my mother and company, which was interesting as I was working nigh shift and everyone else in the house was decidedly day shift.  I was tired all the time and had no interest in writing anything other than the odd poem.  And most of the time, I couldn't even whip one of those up.

There was nothing there.  No pictures.  No conversations with imaginary friends.  Not even piece of a jigsaw puzzle!  Apparently, I even wrote a poem about it, which you can read here.  Looking back now, I realize I needed to live a little and have different life experiences.  For all that I was writing my own story idea, in a sense, I was writing to please other people.  And I needed to lose that drive to please other people when it comes to my writing (although my mother's opinions still scares the living daylights outa me, but that's a different matter all together!)

I switched from part time jobs to a full time one, on night shift - which was only part of the 'always tired' problem I developed.  I had a failed romance, or what I thought was a romance at the time.  It was the most I had experienced at the time.  As I said above, I gave up my apartment and moved back in with my mother for a time.  I found true love and moved again.

Somewhere in the midst of that, I found the self confidence I needed to write without hindrances.   I'll be honest, a lot of it had to do with the unconditional acceptance I had found in the workplace and also from the man who would become my husband.  Because one day, when we had a good computer - well, good enough for me - I downloaded my story from long ago and gave it a read through.  And I thought, "You know, this is pretty good.  I don't like the ending, and some of it needs to be rewritten, but it's a good story just the same."

I sent the draft I had to a friend for a second opinion and while she was reading it, I thought, "I wonder what I can do differently...what if...???" and unwittingly reopened the dam in my head.  Images flooded my imagination like a movie on fast forward.  They were almost tripping over each other.  It was awesome, a runner's high, invincibility ran through my veins, I could write no wrong...I did, lots of typos but that's after...when the high leveled out and I had to edit.

Two books later and I find myself in a similar spot.  I have no desire to write, the images are faded at the moment anyway.  In part it it an overload of life stress...I'm only working part time, my husband not at all, both due to medical restrictions, which of course leads to financial strain (we've already had our car taken away, but not our truck because that's ours); no doctor wants to do surgery on me until I've lost weight and because I'm limited in my physical activity it has to be mainly through what I eat - which food is my drug, an addiction I have to get under control.  It's crazy I tell you!  And of course, this all contributes to depression, which in and of itself sucks creativity away like a hungry vampire.

I found several good pages of advice and quotes while searching this out.  This article with advice from other writers was a good one, with different advice from each one.  Because what works for one, might not work for another.  We are all different, unique individuals, no matter how much we all love to write.  And this article shows that we are in good company!  Fellow writers who've dealt with writer's block themselves.  While I can't always follow all this advice on "Blogger's Block", there are some good ones in here.  I mean, I can't drink coffee too late in the day anymore!  Another blogger I enjoy following and chatting with as allowed, MJ Bush did  her own article on it here.

I started this post months ago.  I started, stopped...started again, had to stop again.  Sometimes what you're writing is just being written at the wrong time.  You're brain needs to focus on something else, or it just needs to rest.  My advice, which I know from experience is hard to head, is; don't sweat it.  Writer's Block will break eventually.  Experiment with some of the advice in the articles above...go for a walk, drink a coffee, go to a party or a park and people watch...find what works for you even if it takes time.  Even Google "You should be writing" and pic an image of the actor that most inspires your romance writing!

Whatever it takes.

And never doubt that you're a real writer.  No matter what anyone tells you.

Living the Busy Life by Robin Janney

I had to do some  investigating when I saw that our last post was a late one from myself.  I realized late last night that I hadn't done my post last week, and was surprised to see that CP missed her week as well.  I know from her Facebook posts that she's been busy: graduations and weddings have filled her days as well as formatting her latest work Overcoming Sarah into a proper format for paperback.

I think I needed to come up with 2 sets of 3 for this hand...
didn't have the greatest start, but I've seen worse!

Trying to think back on what I did last week to lose track of time and turns.  And I'm not really sure!  Friday and Sunday night were card night at my in-laws.  A while back, my mother-in-law decided it would be a good idea for the four of us to play cards on Friday night.  Sometimes we play just one round, other times we get in two.  Last weekend we played cards on Sunday night as well since the two of us who work had Monday off.  It's always fun, even when the cards don't go my way.  One night we made homemade ice cream while we were playing cards!  Usually we don't have any snacks at all.

Monday was Memorial Day and my side of the family celebrated as usual by a having a picnic.  This year we were at the Waverly Glen park just over the NY border.  My maternal grandparents are buried in the cemetery that borders the pretty little park.  I was trying to stay out of the sunshine because a medicine I was on carried a sensitivity warning, so I didn't get any pictures of the water fall that graces the park...although I still managed to get a slight sunburn anyway!

Then of course it was back to work on Tuesday.  And really it's kind of a blur.  I know I had a doctor's appointment Thursday afternoon, after which we hit the Toyota dealers to ask about a metal piece we thought had maybe come off our truck (it wasn't ours!) and then to step into Mr. Janney's doctors so we could ask about his stitches.  No one ever told us they were the dissolving kind and so that was another relief.

One of my husband's attic finds; he placed it in my computer area :) I love the
creative ambiance it adds!!

There is a yard sale coming up next Saturday and there've been a few days our focus has been sorting and cleaning and deciding what to keep and what to sell...and there'll be more of that this week.

Mr. Janney also took the opportunity to rearrange the computer room one day while I was at work as well - he needs to take it easy still, only 3 weeks after his surgery, but he's getting antsy.  I forget which night we went up to his parents and helped go through their attic.  Mr. Janney found a few things he's been looking for, although I'm still not sure if he's keeping or selling the stand up pin ball machine in the yard sale.

One evening we were called up to help my mother do a quick cleaning job to make room for a new couch in her living room. I think it was the same day as the doctor's appointment because I remember coming home and my smartphone connected to wifi and I had all these messages from people and a bunch were from my mother!  It was a quick job, but still managed to take up a large portion of the evening due to the conversation that took place!

You'd never know a storm had went
through  minutes before this pic.
Stephen Foster Lake at Mt Pisgah State Park

This weekend my husband and I tried to go swimming at an area pool, but the weather wouldn't cooperate.  I'd barely gotten changed into my bikini when it thundered and the pool closed...we had to wait until 20 minutes after the last thunder before it would reopen.  We hung around for a while, and had been in the pool for maybe five minutes before the next storm made itself known.  This time we took off to find a spot to picnic at while it rained.

Our only visitors; they made a little noise but not much.

We found an empty pavilion and hoped the ones who had reserved it for the day had either already come and gone or were coming later...we got lucky, no one showed up and told us to leave.  We ate in peaceful nature, with a gorgeous view and a few animal visitors.  But the threat of more thunderstorm shut the pool down for the rest of the afternoon so our swimming was over.  Which was frustrating because none of my doctors want me walking for exercise and instead would rather I swim.  Which will be hard to do with this being the only free swimming pool that I know of in our area.  The fact that I can't actually swim aside.  At the least, I can 'walk' in the pool without creating stress on my torn foot tendon.

Today we are just relaxing.  My Janney is playing his GTA 5 and Clash of Clans.  I'm catching up on laundry and computer stuff.  What have you all been up to in these past few summer-like weekends?

Getting Away by Robin Janney

Yes, this is LAST week's post.  I had a very rough week, and:

So Friday afternoon Mr. Janney and I called it a day, took our dog and went to his parents' early for our Friday night card night and just wandered around their large acreage.  My foot doctor didn't want me going walking, doesn't want me to inflame the foot any more than it is.  But I went anyway because nature is an excellent place to de-stress and that outweighed the possibility of doing further damage to my foot.

Needless to say, we all enjoyed getting away for a while.

Especially our dog Jaclyn.

For Arts and Humanities' Sake By C.P. Stringham

My sincere apologies for the delay, but this week's Broads of a Feather blog will be late. 

A Grateful Heart by Robin Janney

Sara and me <3

The past week or so has been particularly rough for my younger sister.  Some of you may know her only through her picture Carol posted from our last girl's night to the right.

She and I don't always get along, but sisters are sisters no matter what.  So when she approached me one morning at work and asked for a hug, I knew something was wrong.

The price of dinner...

The night before, she had stopped at our local McDonald's and while she was inside the restaurant, someone backed into the rear of her jeep.  And it had completely shattered the back window.  When I got a chance to see it, I saw that a bit more damage had been done than that...broken taillights and a dented bumper are still minor to the busted window.

At least she was able to get insurance information from the offending driver...and $10 towards her diner.

But her bad luck held.

Thursday afternoon I got a phone call from my mother asking if I would come help her at Sara's place with some last minute cleaning before an important meeting.  I figured I'd go, at the least I might get treated to dinner as a thank you.  No, it's not my mess but sometimes we all need help getting out of messes we've made.

As Mom and I were sitting at Sara's home, waiting for her, there was a knock on my window.  Which startled the poo outa me.  But anyway, it was a woman from the veterinarian clinic next to my sister's and she had a message from Sara - 'she was ok, but she'd had an accident and they were taking her to the ER just to get checked out and could we pick her up from there?'  Once we survived the message, Mom and I traveled to the ER only to discover that we had beaten her there!

So we waited some more.  Made some phone calls.  Including my sister just to see if she had her phone with her and if she'd be able to answer it.  She did and she was.

Sara was released from the ER close to 2 hours later and we got to hear the whole story.  She had stopped at the Dollar General after work, and she was trying to make up that time in a hurry to get home.  She was very anxious about the meeting, which has been moved to Monday.  So even though it's a road she travels everyday, and even speeds on everyday, something about this day was different and as she turned through a slight curve she lost control of her vehicle and then overcompensated.  Off the road she went and got up close and personal with a tree.

Her worst injuries...

Sara got off lucky.  Her worst injuries are the cuts and bruises you see in the picture to the left.  They're from the air bag or maybe the steering wheel; she's not really sure.

Her jeep did not fair as well, but jeeps are replaceable and humans are not.  We are all very grateful that Sara was not badly injured even though the loss of the jeep is a hardship.

Busted back axle.

Fender damage

The part that kissed the tree

Full frontal view, lack of anything witty to say...

Pulled the drive shaft out of the transmission.
And those are her feet

My sister's learned a few valuable lessons from this experience.  Don't speed.  Don't drive around with a messy vehicle.  Don't eat at McDonald's...just kidding, I don't think she'll ever abstain from the restaurant.

Even though the weather is nice and we don't have to worry about snow-slicked roads, I want to remind everyone that nothing is worth speeding for.  Unless you're in labor, but I don't know anything about that.  Or if you're being chased by evil doers. I am just as guilty as Sara, but I've been watching my speed more.  It's hard when 'keeping with traffic' means going 75mph or getting out of the way so they can pass you at 5am.  I've been driving our pickup recently and I haven't figured out the cruise control on it and so I've been going faster than I did with our car which is parked waiting for rotor work.

I just wish I could convince my husband of this truth!  But that's another story.

Sometimes you don't know how much a person means to you until they're gone or they've had a close call with serious injury.  Appreciate your loved ones, and let them know you care.  Make that phone call, write that letter.  One day it will be too late.

Prom 1988 Versus 2015 By C.P. Stringham

Not one to pass up the chance for a good laugh, Syd
turns discarded Caution tape into a great photo prop!

For this week’s (last week’s since I’m a week late) Broads of a Feather blog post, I knew I wanted to write about my daughter’s prom which was held on April 25th. So it's okay that I'm so late! 

Sydney decided to get the most out of her senior year of high school by participating in all the activities she had passed up on in previous years. I guess better late then never. I reminded her that once she missed out on school opportunities like this she wouldn’t get a second chance. She’s an old soul in many ways. She loves discussing politics and social causes. Prefers being around an older crowd for that reason. Even likes older men. When I say older, I’m talking Alan Rickman, Bill Nighy, and John McMartin older. Syd doesn’t have a father complex, she has a grandfather complex. Whatever. I don’t have the extra money for a therapist to figure it out. She’s happy, so I’m happy. Who cares if my future son-in-law is as old as my father? Hopefully he’s loaded and good to her.

BFFSK: Sydney and Lesley in their kindergarten
class photo.

Sydney is a sharp dresser, but frugal. She loves shopping at secondhand clothing shops and The Sally (teen speak for the Salvation Army). She's also the lucky hand-me-down recipient for my career girl friends. Her closet consists of name brands like Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Vera Wang, and Liz Claiborne. She loves dressing like a business professional every day for school. In fact, she’s only worn jeans once this past year. She dresses so nice, underclassmen sometimes mistake her for a substitute teacher. She’s also gone on field trips where she’s been mistaken as a teacher. So it came as no surprise when she decided to find her formal gowns in a similar fashion. While her homecoming and winter ball dresses came from The Sally, her prom dress came from Becca’s Closet. Becca’s Closet is a school-operated program where students can pick out from a wide variety of generously donated formal items at no cost. The program is managed by Interact Club (Rotary) and Syd has served as secretary for the past two years. During the two weeks leading up to each formal event, students can use their PM advisory period to “shop” Becca’s Closet. Syd took great pride in helping her fellow students find the perfect dress. She and her BFFSK (Best Friend Forever Since Kindergarten), Lesley, even made cleaning and organizing all of the donated items their first task before winter ball because it was left in complete disarray last year. While into the task, Syd came upon a gown she fell in love with. She tried talking other students into it because she found it to be so amazing. No luck. She went back and forth over it. She already had a gown at home from The Sally for prom, but there was something about this gown she loved. All it took was trying it on and then it came home with her. She had my mother attach the optional straps that came with it for her since strapless isn’t her thing. As the months passed by, a pair of shoes and a wrap were donated to Becca’s Closet that perfectly matched her dress. In the end, Syd spent $20.00 on a pair of black opera gloves for her prom look. Everything else was free.  

At the park for pictures: Alexandria and Shayley form a heart for Lesley and Sydney; the BFFSK all dolled up.

She made arrangements with her friend, Alexandria, to have her hair and makeup done at her house. She wanted her hair styled like Lorelei Gilmore had hers for the dance marathon episode. No fancy up-do for her. I was sort of bummed she wasn’t getting ready at home. It felt like I was being “prom-blocked.” Really. I was sad I wouldn’t get to see her to take pictures before she left. I even pouted. Syd gave in and we made arrangements so I had enough notice to follow them in to town to take some shots at a park before they went out to dinner. Happy mom. Syd invited Alexandria out to dinner with them as a thank you for her hair and makeup. She looked like a million bucks and proved that spending an insane amount of money on prom isn’t necessary. 

Top to bottom/Left to Right: Lesley and Sydney during dinner; a selfie with Alexandria and Shayley; Sydney with her prom court bouquet posing with Paisha and Lesley; their masquerade theme.  

As the evening went on, Lesley and I texted each other back and forth. Like me, Lesley isn’t in to dances and all the socializing that comes with it. As a fellow reading introvert, she finds being social to be just as exhausting as I do. Lesley filled me in about their night and even included selfies and two videos. The videos were to prove she was dancing! At 9:30, the girls let me know that they were ready to call it a night. I picked them up from school at 10:00 to find Sydney carrying a small bouquet of flowers. As she got into the SUV, her face split into a huge smile and she informed me she was voted to prom court—something she never considered a possibility. It totally made her night! Mine, too!

Taking a time machine to 1988 with my blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy (who had a Bieber hairdo before Bieber). 

When your child reaches their senior year, nostalgia creeps in when you realize how quickly the years have passed. It was only natural that Sydney’s prom made me remember elements of my own prom. I graduated in 1988 from a high school that merged the following year with our town rivals. (Goodbye, SRU Tigers! <sniff>) Our prom theme was Never Say Goodbye and it was held at the Sayre Elks Club. My husband and I are high school sweethearts so he was my date. He went on his own to get his tux and my mom made my gown since she is highly skilled in all things domestic goddess. She’s made wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses numerous times in the past. Her cooking skills are incredible and she is an equally talented artist. She’s more Martha Stewart than Martha Stewart!

My best friends in 11^th and 12^th grade were Tiffani and Deb—the minister’s daughter and the butcher’s daughter. We were inseparable our senior year and had lots of great times together (I could tell some stories!). Tiffani’s dad was reluctant to let her attend prom at first and we had to help her talk him into it. Almost like a scene out of Footloose! But not quite because Pastor Craig gave in to our urging without a fight. He saw how important it was to us. Tiff was their oldest out of three daughters. This was new territory for them.

Left to Right: Tiffani with her date, Don, and Deb with her date, Beanie.

The day of prom came and we helped our class advisors, Mr. Stivason and Miss Russell, decorate the hall that morning. Later, we borrowed my future brother-in-law’s car and Marty spent the afternoon washing, waxing, and vacuuming it. He took me to dinner at the Cedar Inn in Elmira for Saturday prime rib. Our first solo formal dinner as a couple.

I was co-editor of our yearbook. It was a big honor for a senior. It was my third year belonging to the club and I took it very seriously. Yearbook sort of gave you an open reason for wandering the school without a hall pass since we were always doing something whether working on drumming up advertising revenue, looking for photo opportunities, doing artwork for layouts, or interviewing faculty members. Most teachers didn’t bother asking to see our pass—except for Mrs. Wolf because she was a stickler. On prom night, I found myself hanging out with our former principal, Mrs. Patrician, and her husband who were our honored guests as well as other teachers who were serving as chaperones. Lots of Bon Jovi played that night and slow dancing.

After the prom, one of my friend’s parents permitted a party with booze provided everyone’s keys were confiscated and each of our parents signed off on it. This is something I’ve been totally upfront about with my daughter. We have no secrets. Not everyone will agree with our parenting style, but I believe that teens who feel comfortable talking about things with their parents are more respectful and responsible. And so far, our daughter hasn’t disappointed us. In fact, she’s proved to be a remarkable young lady with a wonderful reputation. She’s graduating from high school with honors and received some hefty merit scholarships to each of the five colleges she applied to. I don’t know how many times we’ve had her teachers tell us how lucky we are, in this day and age, to have such a responsible, respectful, level-headed teen. She may not have the highest GPA, but she cares. Her former algebra teacher told me he would love to have a classroom full of Sydneys to teach. Another teacher told me he could count on her to run errands and not have to worry about her wasting time or getting into trouble. If she was given a task, it was done properly the first time. We have truly been blessed with her. She talks to me about everything and I am so thankful for the relationship we have. My husband and I know we can count on her to make good decisions while still being a kid. 

At any rate, getting back to my prom night, the party was great. Responsible drinking. No one left the party trashed and we had a safe environment. Only one of us got wasted. Nope. It wasn’t me. The pastor’s daughter was blowing chunks by 3AM! My husband didn’t drink that night. Instead, he was assigned the role of babysitter. So, as Tiffani vomited, he was stuck with the task of holding her hair back for her as the rest of us laughed and complained about the smell. Always the devoted preacher’s daughter, between barfing, Tiff mumbled, “Marty, please make sure I’m up in time to go to church in the morning. I promised my dad I wouldn’t miss church.” Marty told her he would make sure she was up in time. Throughout the rest of the night, we could hear Tiff talking as Marty sat up watching TV to pass the time. He sat in the armchair and Tiff was sprawled on the sofa with her head in a wastepaper basket which gave her voice an echo effect. The rest of us were in the neighboring room either sleeping on their sleeper sofa or on the floor. As morning neared, Tiff’s puking began to subside and we heard her say, “Marty, am I going to die?” to which he replied, “No, Tiff, you’re not going to die.” “Good because I have to go to church.” Tiff fell asleep soon after and didn’t make it to church that morning. And Marty tried to wake her at 7AM. She was out cold—with her head in the garbage. Tiff never could hold her liquor.