I’m not entirely sure what we’re all doing in the photo, but if I remember correctly, we watched “The Hitcher,” so maybe that was it.
I think lots of people met untimely and fairly gruesome deaths, but don’t ask me the plot otherwise. Go read about it on Rotten Tomatoes.
It was May of 1990, after my high school’s senior prom. If you must know, I’m second from the right, in the Bart Simpson T-shirt and blue sweatpants. My date was at the party, but she’s not in the picture.
The party was at our friend Bridget’s house, and the big thing was that we were allowed to stay an hour later than her parents originally said … which was cool.
Bridget is basically the keeper of the photos, since she was apparently the only one of us who knew how to use a camera back then, and she went on a fun little posting spree on Facebook the other day.
I promise you I didn’t wear a T-shirt and sweats to the prom. I did wear a proper tuxedo, and she sent me a couple pictures with my formal wear.
She also posted her senior photo, part of the meme where people were supporting the members of the Class of 2020, who may not get to have graduations, by posting their own senior pictures.
That, of course, led to a bunch of us putting up our photos either as posts or in the comments.
And because I know you want to see it, here’s mine. Contrary to what one of my friends said, that’s me in 12th grade, not eighth.
Not everyone had their pictures, either by not having their yearbooks where they live or having lost them in a flood several years ago, but other people who did (like me) gladly supplied them.
First of all … we need to talk about the hair.
Boys in the late ’80s and early ’90s had their share of mullets, but girls’ hair was just massive … all curls and reaching to free itself of all constraints. One of our friends was wearing a hat in her senior photo, and someone joked she was holding it down because otherwise her hair would have ejected it.
So anyway, there was much guffawing, as you would expect. It was a little bit like the reunion we didn’t get to have last year — classes at our high school are small enough so that multiple classes have them together — because it was canceled for low ticket sales.
I am the nostalgic type, so, memories, but as I looked at the pictures, particularly the one from the party, I started thinking about something else.
We were so, so young. It’s like we were babies.
Whatever dramas we had in our lives — and, oh, we had them — were the center of our existence. But we didn’t know that almost none of it would matter.
And why would we? We were somewhere between 16 and 18.
Now, 30 years later, I’m not interested in going back to those days, but they were definitely a simpler time.