and if you're wondering, that should have been 1978. If I did that math right. But anyway, in the days when my hometown was beautiful, and full, and there were jobs to be had and things to be done, the local community college began a summer theatre workshop for kids in grades 3 through 6. My parents told me that we got a scholarship for me and off I went. It was Monday through Thursday from some obscenely early time in the summer (like 8a.m.!) through about 12 noon.
The kids were separated by class, and then went to a couple of different classes in rotation. All the kids in 3rd grade went together to the dance class on the great big wooden stage of the auditorium. Then we would all go together to the singing class, then to the art and pottery class.
And somehow, at the end of the workshop, all of your classes kind of matched up into one program that they snuck up on you. As an example, everyone held their own t-shirt while the screening thing sluced the ink over it, and voila! you had a t-shirt to wear the night of the performance where you sang and danced.
In all seriousness, it is a favorite childhood memory and I went all four years that I was eligible. The school still has the program. The name of the school has changed, but much of the buildings remain well kept, but essentially the same as they were when I went there in 1979, as well as when I returned to pursue an Associate's degree in 1988.
But I digress ~ in the summer of my third grade, I met Mary Lee. Mary Lee was spending parts of the summer with her grandparents. If we had been older, her grandparents would have lived within walking distance. They probably lived in walking distance anyway, but we were probably a little bit spoiled. OK, a lot spoiled. Mary Lee lived probably about 45 minutes from her grandparents in a town that was probably more of a community. But that's not relevant to the blog. What's relevant is, there she was, and there I was, and we became fast friends. Instantly.
My dad knew her grandad. I guess by then my parents had lived in town for 9 or so years and dad was a cop. Blue uniform, the whole thing. Anyway, dad knew her grandad. Which was a good thing because we were instant friends. Suddenly my parents were giving her a ride to her grandparents (the whole, you know, two blocks) and my parents were having to pick me up at her grandparents, etc.
Throughout school, we remained good friends, but we had to work the system. Her mother would play bridge some Sunday afternoons, and the bridge hostess lived halfway between my house and Mary Lee's house. It was a half hour drive, but it was a local call (remember the days of long distance?). So Mary Lee would get there and call me. Then I'd turn around and BEG my mother to take me down there. My mom would always say something like, 'It's a half hour drive!' but she would often do it.
This lady, the bridge hostess, she was farmer rich. (If you don't know what that means, I can't explain it to you. Except it's a lot more money than a policeman makes) and her home had 1 room that was a game room complete with pool tables, pinball machines, kitchen stuff, stereo with built in speakers, etc. There was another room with a gazebo inside it and a lemon tree metal ornament on the wall. The lemons were lights. I loved that tree, and I still occasionally search eBay for a white ornamental metal tree with lemon shapes on it. The house also had a very small atrium area that sort of existed between rooms. So you could walk out there, and it probably wasn't 6X6. But it was neat to me that they had this space just sort of there, so they made it into a little garden.
Anyway, Mary Lee and I went through years where our only contact was a letter or two a year. A real letter, every year for our birthdays. And that's about it. We hadn't seen each other in probably 10 years. And this past weekend, we were both back in town and had lunch. She brought her oldest child, a 15 year old son. And we had lunch. We mostly reminisced. And reaffirmed our committment. After all, we've been friends since 3rd grade. And we're, uh, ahem, much older now.
I can still hear 'little ditty, 'bout Jack and Diane. . . two American kids growing up. . . . ' playing in that game room.
