I was a quiet, well-behaved student. But when my senior year English teacher in HS intoned...

[CorpGovActivist]

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may" ...



... my mind somehow processed it with Safe Search off, and I literally fell into the aisle weeping and laughing. This was real-life, pre-emoticon, pre-chatroom, ROTFLMAO.

Quickly, the three other guys in the class got it, and started howling right along with me. (There were at least 20 girls in the class, and I think at first they, along with the teacher, thought we'd lost our minds.)

I mean, come on! The title of that poem, alone, is going to make any 17 or 18 year old boy sit up and take notice: To the Virgins, to make much of Time.

With two weeks left before graduation, I had Senioritis pretty bad, I'd only recently been diagnosed with Crohn's, I'd had a rough few months adjusting to the horrors of prednisone, and the usually rock-solid inhibitions (back then, anyway) were lowered. Shields were down to about 10%, and she scored a direct hit on my closely-guarded reactor core. As I lay there, laughing and crying, I learned the true meaning of catharsis. The fear (was it cancer? no, just Crohn's, and I would live to go to college), the pain, the anxiety: all melted away, right there on that floor.

What was she going to do to me, anyway? I didn't ruin her breathy, melodramatic two-line reading on purpose. Honest to God I didn't. It just happened.

But her guard (and her dander) was up for what little time remained that year. At the Senior Party the night before Graduation - you know, the one where they lock everyone in with awesome activities planned? so that nobody dies in a drunk driving tragedy the night before? - she had her eye on my group and me. Like a hawk. Out of 469 students, their guests, the parents, and staff, she trailed us. All night.

The 20 or so of us guys were supposed to sing Kokomo on stage, in a very boring line dance, when it came our turn to perform in the Senior Night Talent Show. That's what we'd practiced the week before. It had been approved, by a faculty committee headed by her.

But I got an idea a couple of days before. A deliciously wicked idea.

The A/V guy owed me, big time. One last favor would square us up. The valediction the next day - which she, by tradition, always reviewed - was mine. What the hell was she gonna do? Cancel it?

The QB (our chosen spokesperson for this particular performance) stepped up to the microphone, and gave a ham-handed, glowing dedication of our song to - we all tittered in harmony, blew air kisses, and waved to her on cue - Mrs. LONG.

And our rendition (complete with well-rehearsed sight gags) was http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQ_B62k9sQk&feature=related">even more spirited than the original, with the principal doubled over in laughter, unable - and from the looks of it - unwilling - to put a stop to it. The audience joined in, in all the right places, when the QB held out the mic for them to chime in.

In the space of that song, the adults in the room gave us tacit license to use adult humor for the first time, welcoming us to their side of the divide, and rejoining us on ours. For the space of that song. Twenty lusty-voiced, full-throated guys, and a whole room joining in on the hook.

She retired a few years ago. To Mrs. LONG! The poem is emblazoned in my heart forever, and I did, and do, get the point.

- Dave

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear CorpGovActivist!

What a fabulous and wonderful story!

You should have been a writer...the scene jumps to vivid life with your prose!

Thank you...

:yourock:

:hug:

[CorpGovActivist]

2. My dear Ms. Peggy...

... you know the affliction well: Writers write. Painters paint. Sculptors sculpt.

It must out.

Our rural public school system was (still is) full of teachers who could have graced the halls of Exeter or Andover. They insisted on the basics, the classics, and excellence. You will know how to diagram a sentence, even now, No Child Left Behind be damned.

Our county was one of only a few - out of 55 - that never had trouble passing the school bond levy. As a result, the resources and facilities are truly world-class.

The http://www.tamarackwv.com/">artistic community there is vibrant. Activism, with a progressive bent, abounds. In the beautiful Appalachian Mountains, with morning mist each day, and Almighty fireworks each eve. I thought everyone had sunrises and sunsets like that until I got to Boston.

The county sponsored a summer program - now defunct, sadly, due to Federal funding cuts - called Camp SAGA.

For student writers to be exposed to - and share their own writings with - real authors.

I went every year, and became a counselor for the younger camp.

If you've seen SuperSize Me! - the Oscar-nominated critique of McDonalds and fast food - then you've seen the work of a http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=morgan+spurlock+camp+saga">SAGA alum and a schoolmate.

His mom, Phyllis, was one of the faculty advisors for the camp. When he and I speak, I needle him that I edged him out for Best Journal Entry. For one year's closing night reading ceremony, we did a poetry reading section, Beatnik style. I suspect you would have enjoyed.

It's nice to have those friends who knew us when.

But it is also nice to make new ones. Especially writers. Thank you, and I'm so very glad you enjoyed it.

:hug:

- Dave

[CaliforniaPeggy]

4. I have a new friend...

And that makes me happy...:hug:

[CorpGovActivist]

5. Rhymes with kiddo.

: )

P.S. I think I edited while you replied, but we did a Beatnik poetry reading one closing night ceremony. You would've probably loved it. Black berets, black clothes, and all. *snap* *snap*

[CaliforniaPeggy]

6. Beat poetry is good stuff!

I know I would have loved it...

I remember living through that time...

Um, forgive me...but whatrhymes with kiddo?

I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes... :blush:


Check your PM in a moment...

[CorpGovActivist]

8. Ditto.

And will do. *down periscope*

[madeline_con]

3. What CaliforniaPeggy said. And more...

:applause:

[CorpGovActivist]

7. Thank you.

:hi: