Alternate title: How to Win Cute Girls’ Hearts in High School
This is a great story, a great moment, a seminal moment.
In tenth grade, I applied for a position on the yearbook staff at my high school, Eisenhower High School, the following year. The Talon was a decently prestigious yearbook, and I wanted to write, so I felt fairly elated to be selected. Yearbook tends to attract good-looking girls, too.
At the end of the year, our yearbook advisor loaded all his students for the next year into his RV and drove us down to Taylor Publishing in Dallas, who printed our yearbook, to show us the process of producing it. I suspect the affair was unsafe, since almost none of us had seat belts.
So, yes, I was the kid who puked on the trip to Taylor Publishing.
Let me add that in reading my journal from those waning days of 10th grade, I can tell you that in today’s milieu of social media and zero tolerance, I would almost certainly have been far more of an outcast than I was at that time. I talked about suicide and murder and revenge. “I’m falling apart” and “I am losing control of my emotions” and “I could vanish right now and no one would notice.”
I know, I know. My wife chided me recently for holding grudges from 35 years ago. I even advised someone close to me to let go of just this kind of thing. How bitter and hypocritical am I? Answer: as much as I damn well please.
Don’t let anybody tell you not to be hypocritical and bitter, Richard. Don’t!
“I talked about suicide and murder and revenge.”
It is a little disturbing to me that kids today aren’t even allowed to *talk* about some things without a big Clamp Down from The Man. Which seems like it would force them to keep such things more secret, and therefore more dangerous. But I’m no expert.
Personally, I wrote about similar things as well, often only in a hyperbolic sense, which still would have gotten me into trouble in today’s atmosphere.
>>force them to keep such things more secret, and therefore more dangerous<< Agree completely. Would you be inclined to tell a parent or guidance councilor about such fantasies? They'd treat you like a criminal.
I remember making the trip to Taylor Publishing, probably a year after you, but I don’t remember an RV. I think we were in a van. I’m reminded of that trip every time I turn onto Mockingbird Lane.