THE PROM

Today I read an article about some high school kids rented a tank to drive them to a prom and it arrived with Darth Vadar playing bagpipes, A photo showed the boys in pastel tuxes that matched their date’s gowns (who all seemed a bit underdressed to be riding in a tank in my opinion).  I groused, “Kids today…they surely don’t…” then I caught myself sounding like my mother again and I cut the thought off but then my mind flowed back to Millville once again...and my Prom.

The Spring of 1960 filled with me thinking about The Junior Prom.  And the question, who should I ask?  (Translated = who would actually say yes if I asked them!)  This decision vexed me for days.  Who I wanted to ask vs. who I would have the courage to ask?  But I knew I had to ask someone soon – this was a must in high school life and it had to be faced sooner or at least later.  Much like the Navajo boy I read about and his trial by fire.  Mine would be trial by dancing in a rented tux.  I had many false starts and finally asked Sue Q. to the Junior Prom.  She was a freshman and a much better bet to say “yes” than if I had asked a junior girl I liked who I feared would not be all that excited about going with me or that mysterious sexy senior I constantly watched at her locker on the way to math - definitely out of my league for sure.

Once the asking hurdle was jumped,  I surveyed my savings account kept in a Prince Albert tobacco can in my sock drawer.  $6 Bucks!  Yikes that wouldn’t even cover the flowers even if Mrs. Schick, the florist, gave me a discount.  I totaled my needs: Corsage @ $5; Tux rental @ $10  (Franks’ Men & Boys);Post prom dining @ $10.00  (The Vineland White Sparrow  or The Franklinville Log Cabin?); Shared gasoline @$1.00.  This came to a fortune in the teenager financial world.  I was at least $20 bucks short.  I saw a BOM loan negotiation in my future.  (Bank of Mom).  I could always count on her.  And it all worked out.

 I rented a white sport coat and I did indeed wear a red carnation in the label.  Sue and I danced (well she danced and I sort of walked around with her and occassionally stepping on her feet) the night away to a very loud band in the high school gym with the lingering scent of sweat socks mixed with Old Spice. (Today’s kids get a rented country club.) Sue looked like she was about to pop out of her lavender dress, worn over a mysterious array of  snaps, zippers and other stuff. Finally the band played the last dance.  My pal Bub drove us to the very dimly lit Log Cabin, a mecca for romantic liaisons. We dined on their prom night special,  deluxe cheese burgers and cokes. And I had Sue home by the appointed time – and seeing her dad waiting by the door meant no kiss goodnight. (He was a cop!)

 And just like that – another milestone in my life’s long parade was quickly over.  The tux went back and the crepe paper came down in the gym.  But the memory of the first night of being a gentleman in formal dress... the thrill of finally feeling grown up would last with me forever.