The End – June 3, 1983

 

By the way I am dressed, there’s no wonder I was a walking wedgie!

I spent my last day of school mowing the yard and getting the car loaded for the evenings celebration. The graduation ceremony was held indoors because of the early Virginia summer, it was hot and humid. Having to wear a shirt and tie along with the ceremonial gown was making a brother sweat. As the time approached, we were lined up on both sides of the hallway, I glanced down to see all of my classmates have smiles on their faces and out of a doorway came a group in similar outfits but in black. It almost look like a covenant of witches walking down the hall. The first face I saw was Mr. Hodson our Principle.
My Cousin, feeling his oats addresses Mr. Hodson as “J.D.” and proceeded to call all the teachers by their first name but one…Coach Proctor. To this day I refer to him as Coach or Mr. Proctor.

 

We were in and out in about 2 hours. As we exited the gymnasium and I began to hear the sounds of girls sobbing. Little did I know one those sobbing just so happened to my Cousin. Tears flowed and hugs were everywhere. As we met up with our families, we handed them our diplomas caps & gowns. I went and changed cloths and was told that if I was going to consume to stay at the field. I informed them that I would see them at sun up.

Hours after the event, my classmates were still hugging and tears still flowed. A few made plans to visit Ocean City, Md. the following week. I was scheduled to work at 8:00 Monday morning, so I maintained my composure and partied the night away.

A few of my classmates were only going to relax and enjoy their new freedom for just a short period. Uncle Sam called their number and they were heading off to basic training. Those who went to college, we would run into each other in town on the weekends and we would gather some where to talk.

Over time, some got married, some moved away, some stayed close, and some never left. But it so funny how we can go months even years and not see each other yet we live only 5 to 10 miles from each other. So much for the small town mentality.

When it was time for our 5 year reunion, I knew our class lacked funds to pull off renting a venue. Somehow, we were able to scrap enough together to rent the VFW in Strasburg and get crazy just like we did back in the day. The most important thing was…we still were a tight knit group and I can only hope in 25 years we are still that close.

The Field Party – S.H.S. Class of ’83 Style!

It only took us 30 years, but the boys of ’83 finally got their way!

Whenever my classmates get together to plan a reunion, the idea of a field party is always brought to the table. The 5 & 10 year reunions, we kept things civilized and had the celebrations at the local VFW & Moose Lodge. The 15 year reunion, I have no idea what occurred as my life was in shambles and couldn’t participate. At the 20 year plateau, talk of the sacred field party milled around . . . again nothing. We let the girls have their way and we had a fancy hoodie-doo at the Ramada Inn. A sit down dinner and all that pretentious crap. Tish and I attended and we got a room at the Inn just to be safe. The night got crazy, Sticks did his usual strip tease and like always . . .
everyone had a great time.

Fast forward 10 years . . .

After the picnic in July (3-0), a few of us got to talking about the elusive field party. We reminisced about the parties we had back in the day with the large fire, a pig that roasted all day long and of course…multiple cases of Old Milwaukee, Boones Farm or T.J. Swann. Great, Great Times With Great Friends!

Over several bottles of wine at a local vineyard, Horton and I discussed in great detail how the field party could become a reality. As we mentioned this idea later in the evening at the Depot Lounge to other classmates – one of the girls stepped forward. She offered her secluded lot behind her crib to the Great Class of ’83. I designed the invitation and it was sent by snail mail and emailed to all who we were able to contact. We had 3 weeks to pull this together and get a good crowd to show up. I relayed the information to those I ran into on the streets. I tried my best to convince folks who normally don’t attend such an event to make an exception.

Out of the kindness of my pea-picking heart, I purchased a case of beer and grabbed a few bottles of Boones Farm to help with the cause. As the day was upon us, I asked our gracious host if she and her better-half needed any assistance to get things ready for that evening. After a truck load of tables, chairs, tiki torches and anything else we may need, I headed home to rest up, before we returned for an evening of fun.

Snacks were requested for the evening. I made a Smoked Gouda, Parmesan & Mozzarella cheese pizza with a foccacia crust that seemed to be appropriate for the evening. Pizza is always a good way to soak up the alcohol. After finishing the food, it was time to relax a little and soak in some rays. I retired to my deck with a glass of Malbec from Argentina and a Montecrito #4. The day couldn’t have been better as the temperatures were perfect for an outdoor event. I gathered a few coolers, my box of wine and a small sound system to play some tunes from my iPhone. Skynyrd, Journey, AC/DC, Van Halen & Van Hagar dominated the “Field Party” playlist. So I’ve got all my ducks in a row and it’s time to party like a rock star.

We get to the isolated location, several have already arrived and gotten their drink on. A total of 20 classmates would take part in a ritual we did about every weekend during our senior year and a few years after graduation. A few classmates who we haven’t seen in 20 years made an appearance. I guess it took a good ole fashion field party to get the hard cores out of the house and out of their comfort zone.

A lot of hugs and of course . . .

laughter could be heard for hours. Good times had by all.

The only mishap that occurred that evening was from yours truly. The field had a slight slope and when I arranged my chair I didn’t account for this incline. When two women begin to talk about going to strip clubs, Good Lord I wanted details and I wanted them to tell their stories very slow. As I leaned to gather more information . . . my feet went into the air, the chair fell on its side and I went rolling out of it. Along with my 230lb. frame was a nice burgundy colored Malbec that spilled onto the ground. I know . . . major alcohol abuse.

I laid there gathering my composure and got back on my feet. Once the laughter died down, I took some verbal abuse from a few friends. It’s all good. As we sat around chatting about anything and everything, someone starts a car to head home, Their headlights hits all of us sitting around the fire and I hear the words “moon”. You guessed it . . . I hope they enjoyed the view from dark side of the moon!

By this time it was after 2:00 a.m. and the crowd had thinned. Tish loaded me up and took me home. We had a good time and maybe this can become an annual event. We should get together more often than every 5 years. I understand some have to travel but those of us who still live in the Strasburg vicinity should make the effort to meet up. Whether it’s at a local watering hole, restaurant or the occasional field our options are endless.

You know you would have a good time . . . we are a fun bunch!