"It was just the shrimp or something". "He wrote a really sweet message in my year book." "I am CRAZY."
All things I told myself over and over in the coming days after the night on the swings and the sharing of my heart. English was awkward. Kelly had NO idea that any of this went down. Senior year was rapidly coming to an end bringing the standard activities of senior picnic, senior sleepover and senior trip to Disneyland. I had planned all along to have a boyfriend for these events. And I did. A great one. Kelly and I attended all of these events together and I gave Mike the cold shoulder at every turn. I even asked him to stop hanging out with us at Disneyland. As soon as Kelly showed up at the senior sleep over I quit hanging out with Mike and spent the night (no not that way) with Kelly. But Mike was always in the background, staring, trying to talk to me, writing me notes and acting like a love sick puppy dog. It really started to get to me. I didn't need some half nerd half flight jock messing up my well laid plans for a great summer. In my stress and confusion, I MADE Kelly watch one of my very favorite movies with me one night. Classic movie, 1968, staring Richard Harrison...Camelot. As we watched Guinevere struggle with her total love for Arthur AND Lancelot simultaneously and how truly tortured she was and sorry for it, I mistakenly mentioned that this movie sort of reminded me about me, him and Mike Meeker. Yeah, it didn't go over well.
He stalked out of the house and I chased after him. We stood in his front yard in silence. "And just who would I be in the story?", he demanded. "Ummmm, Arthur. He's the best. He's King Arthur for crying out loud. Might for right and the Knights of the Round Table." I did my best to point out all of the great points of Arthur who is the single character in literature and movies I love the most to this day. I was starting to think he didn't get it. "But she CHEATED on him with LANCELOT." He obviously did not get it. "Yes, but um...she was tortured because she loved Arthur so much and Mike is ummm...going off to the Air Force Academy sort of like a knight and I love you." (2008 newsflash: I realized the mistake of all this about 2 seconds after these things were out of my mouth) "And she didn't end up with Lance! She almost burned at the stake for pete's sake and she ended up being hidden by nuns with no love forever living with the burden of ending Camelot!!!" I exploded with what a crappy deal old Guinevere ended up with. It still wasn't flying. I ended up driving away, blaring Depeche Mode "I want somebody to love" and sobbing. Here was one of my favorite movies, I was trying to come clean with Kelly and all I got was grief for my efforts. And we didn't even end up finishing the movie.
I called Mike. I asked him to meet me in the football stadium. I would be in the bleachers if he felt like stopping by. (short background info: the football stadium was right behind my house. It was the sight of my many drama moments growing up. It was where I stormed to when my parents "just didn't understand", it was where I ran bleachers after watching Rocky, it was where I went to go and dream and think and be alone. It was my special place.) I skulked to the football stadium, hopped the locked fence and walked alone on the track until I got to the bleachers. I sat down and waited. Either Mike would show up or not. Whatever the case I would take it as a sign.
I waited a LONG time. I could see his car pull up when it did so I would know if he was there. He didn't show. I started to rise to go, half disappointed and half relieved my choice was made. King Arthur it was and I was prepared to go forth with loyalty and commitment. Then, out of the night, I heard some running. I squinted toward the sound trying to see to the other side of the stadium. It was Mike and he was running, running as fast as I've ever seen someone run. And he was headed straight at me. Oh boy...my stomach did flip flops. I guess I had a decision to make after all. (Quick background: Mike was a major track star at school so him running full speed on the track wasn't that weird or anything)
Imagine my surprise when he wasn't even a little bit happy to see me. I figured he would be thrilled I wanted to talk to him again. And we were in MY special place. What was he doing showing off how fast he could run and being all intense and mad? I told him about the whole Camelot thing. I told him that I was confused and scared. This softened him for a moment. Then, all of a sudden he got super mad. "I am LEAVING for the Air Force Academy. Do you get what that means?" Again, a boy was yelling at me for the second time that night. "I have my life planned out. I'm going to be a fighter pilot, I am leaving for school, I am going on a mission. That's six years of plans. I had no plans for you and now I can't seem to want any of it and it just makes me so mad." Secretly my heart soared. But I acted contrite and sympathetic to his plight. In fact, I gave a little rant myself. "Do you think I actually wanted this? I am going to be a journalist. I am going to the best journalism school in the nation. I will then cover whatever story in whatever part of the world I have to. For the New York fricking Times! I have a boyfriend who is great and you as you so accurately pointed out, are leaving." We stood there in silence just locking eyes. I stared at green eyes that normally smiled and crinkled and held joy and interest but now were unreadable and angry. Then, suddenly, those eyes softened. "Well, then I guess we are both screwed because I think I'm falling in love with you." I let out a huge breath that I was unaware I was holding. "yeah, me too." I said softly. "I guess we better walk home." We walked out of the stadium in silence. He tried to help me over the fence but I was a FEMINIST which I pointed out and didn't NEED his help over the fence thank you very much. He just laughed at that. We walked in silence across the parking lot toward our mutual houses. We got to the corner on Valley Oak and Vista Grande Drives where I would go my way and he would go his. "Well", he said. "Thanks for the talk." He just stood there. "Yeah, you too." I said looking at the ground. "Do you know what you're gonna do?" he asked. "Nope." I said miserably, not even being able to meet his eyes. "Okay then. See ya Aim." he said with a half smile. We high fived. Yes I know that is corny. But we always high fived when we parted ways. We still do. As I walked away he called from somewhere in the darkness..."Aim?" I stopped. "Yep?" I said. "I'm glad I at least get to be Lancelot." I smiled with a big grin. "Yeah, see ya Lance." He chuckled and we continued to walk away from each other toward our homes where neither of us would sleep that night.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Chapter 6: The Yearbook Dance Night...
Surprisingly, this whole sit in/riot/protest rally surge of energy didn't last long. The end of the year was coming and along with it Spring Fair, Spirit Days, Spring Break and summer blessed summer. The seniors got senioritus and the rest of the school just sort of moved on to other things. I guess it's really true what they say..."Today's Headlines line tomorrow's trash cans". That's about how it went around our school. There were rumors, break ups, hook ups, fights, parties and Western Festival to focus on. So we didn't have a lot of time to continue our crusade to save our teachers from the oppressive powers that be. The thing that diffused our strife the most was that both teachers were given the choice as to whether they WANTED to transfer as a result of our protest so...mission accomplished. And Ed Skeen was rumored to be seriously looking at other school districts. So Yay for the power of the people and we could all move on to things like the Barn Dance.
Mike continued to sit by me in English Class. And those weird feelings of excitement in seeing him and the desire to be around him didn't go away like I thought they would. I applied Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker everyday before English and we spent most classes passing notes back and forth and completely ignoring the other students and Mrs. Santora's new assignment of Macbeth. Or was it the Odyssey? Or hmmmm....what DID we study? Obviously, what we were studying in English class was not my big concern. However, who I was studying it with was a major focus of my day. Mike had just been given an appointment to the Air Force Academy and I found it so dreamy Top Gun Maverick that he wanted to be a fighter pilot. And that he had a cause. His cause and own personal crusade was my freedom and liberty which apparently he was willing to DIE for. And I am such a sucker for a guy with a cause. I find it more irresistible than power, money, a sense of humor, a nice butt etc etc etc. A do-gooder, who has something more important than their own comfort and more important than me is just asking for me to fall in love with them. Barack Obama BEWARE.
So now what do I do? I had a good boyfriend who I was totally faithful to and even though we had been fighting more lately, I didn't want to break up. Instead, I started doing covert missions to get to spend more time with Mike in order to gauge just where he was at when it came to the Aimster. The depths to which I would sink are shameful. I hid. Behind the bathrooms. Waiting for him to come out of class. Then, I would casually appear as if out of nowhere just as he was walking up. So I was ahead of him. And he had to catch up to ME. So he was all "Hi Amy" and I was all "Oh Mike, I didn't see you there - sup?" (which was my super cool way of saying how are you?") and we would inevitably walk to our next class together, talking the whole way and laughing and reveling in the throws of a crush. This became our regular routine for months. Nothing more than long talks on the way to class, passed notes in English and the growth of a friendship. We started to not want to get to our next class. We found more and more reasons to hang back and become tardy. We might come up with the most clever of plans which involved me needing Mike's help on some pressing student government issue and we would go check in with his teacher and make sure he could take the first few minutes of class to help out the student government. This usually meant I made up some needless banner we needed to hang in the lunch room or books we had to take back to the library. One sunny afternoon, I convinced him to run an errand for a teacher off campus during classes. All in the name of student government. He agreed to every request and I started finding him (by accident of course) after school and gave him a lifts home in my rad 77 Celica. Beige. GT. With no air conditioner.
One day we were doddeling on getting to class and the final bell rang and we were still talking outside of the portables near the Antlerette room and Mr. Cavanaugh walked by and said "Did you guys hear the rumor?" And we looked sheepish because we knew we were supposed to be in class and figured we were going to get busted. "what rumor?" He got that twinkle in his eye and replied "Amy Oliver and Mike Meeker went crazy and went off and eloped and now they are married!" Huh? "harr harr Mr. Cavanaugh. You're such a joker." I said as I licked my lips and wanted a hole in the earth to appear in which to swallow me. "Ha Ha Mr. C. Amy Oliver would never be dumb enough to elope with me." Mike replied. Huh? Our eyes locked. Mike's held humor and mine held all the questions swirling inside me. Like... do you like me in that way? Like really really like me? Are you really worth liking? Do I really like you? Like really really? Is this just a passing fancy? What about Kelly? You are Mike Meeker for crying out loud. I'm not meant to like you am I? But your smile is so cute and you have so much PASSION about life and issues and causes like freedom and the military and I just totally dig that ever since I saw the musical Evita and the character of Che. The Spring of 1989...it was a very confusing time.
The yearbook dance was coming up. I went. I saw Mike. He danced with Janina. Then he left. I just decided to bite the bullet and drove to his house to see if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. After all we were friends, right? I mean, he's probably got to eat. So I pulled up my rad car that my parents blessed me with for the first of what would turn into a million times of pulling up in front of the Meeker house on Elk Ridge Way.
Ding Dong.
Now, I had no idea this house held 6 brothers ages 3 to 18, 2 parents and 1 Grandmother. The door opened. It was Mike's brother that went to our school. "Hi Little Meeker" I said. I'm here to see Mike - is he home? "No, but he should be soon." Ron replied. "Cool." I said. "I'd just like to know if he wanted to go grab something to eat. Can I leave you my number? "uh...sure" and he took down the digits. I got a call from Mike about 25 minutes later asking me if I wanted to go to dinner. I told him I would pick him up. I'm sure that was weird for his traditional, conservative, limited dating self to wrap his brain around. That a girl came to his house. And left her number. And asked him out. And now was driving to his house to pick him up. Go Feminism! We went and got fried shrimp. Don't ask me why. And I paid for dinner. Then we went to a little play ground and hopped on the swings and talked for 3 hours. I have no idea what we talked about. Just that it was on these swings, where I have since taken my girls to swing, under the light of a full moon and a North Star that we fell in love. There was no kiss. No holding hands. Nothing wonky. Just talking and the bearing of our souls. It was a magical night. And I asked him out. And I paid. And I recommended the park. Homeboy had to be lead around by a ribbon in his nose.
So now we were in love. Happy and in love. And he knew it. And I knew it. And Kelly was picking me up in the morning for a day trip to the ocean. So my life sucked as much as it could for a 17 year old girl in love...with 2 boys.
Mike continued to sit by me in English Class. And those weird feelings of excitement in seeing him and the desire to be around him didn't go away like I thought they would. I applied Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker everyday before English and we spent most classes passing notes back and forth and completely ignoring the other students and Mrs. Santora's new assignment of Macbeth. Or was it the Odyssey? Or hmmmm....what DID we study? Obviously, what we were studying in English class was not my big concern. However, who I was studying it with was a major focus of my day. Mike had just been given an appointment to the Air Force Academy and I found it so dreamy Top Gun Maverick that he wanted to be a fighter pilot. And that he had a cause. His cause and own personal crusade was my freedom and liberty which apparently he was willing to DIE for. And I am such a sucker for a guy with a cause. I find it more irresistible than power, money, a sense of humor, a nice butt etc etc etc. A do-gooder, who has something more important than their own comfort and more important than me is just asking for me to fall in love with them. Barack Obama BEWARE.
So now what do I do? I had a good boyfriend who I was totally faithful to and even though we had been fighting more lately, I didn't want to break up. Instead, I started doing covert missions to get to spend more time with Mike in order to gauge just where he was at when it came to the Aimster. The depths to which I would sink are shameful. I hid. Behind the bathrooms. Waiting for him to come out of class. Then, I would casually appear as if out of nowhere just as he was walking up. So I was ahead of him. And he had to catch up to ME. So he was all "Hi Amy" and I was all "Oh Mike, I didn't see you there - sup?" (which was my super cool way of saying how are you?") and we would inevitably walk to our next class together, talking the whole way and laughing and reveling in the throws of a crush. This became our regular routine for months. Nothing more than long talks on the way to class, passed notes in English and the growth of a friendship. We started to not want to get to our next class. We found more and more reasons to hang back and become tardy. We might come up with the most clever of plans which involved me needing Mike's help on some pressing student government issue and we would go check in with his teacher and make sure he could take the first few minutes of class to help out the student government. This usually meant I made up some needless banner we needed to hang in the lunch room or books we had to take back to the library. One sunny afternoon, I convinced him to run an errand for a teacher off campus during classes. All in the name of student government. He agreed to every request and I started finding him (by accident of course) after school and gave him a lifts home in my rad 77 Celica. Beige. GT. With no air conditioner.
One day we were doddeling on getting to class and the final bell rang and we were still talking outside of the portables near the Antlerette room and Mr. Cavanaugh walked by and said "Did you guys hear the rumor?" And we looked sheepish because we knew we were supposed to be in class and figured we were going to get busted. "what rumor?" He got that twinkle in his eye and replied "Amy Oliver and Mike Meeker went crazy and went off and eloped and now they are married!" Huh? "harr harr Mr. Cavanaugh. You're such a joker." I said as I licked my lips and wanted a hole in the earth to appear in which to swallow me. "Ha Ha Mr. C. Amy Oliver would never be dumb enough to elope with me." Mike replied. Huh? Our eyes locked. Mike's held humor and mine held all the questions swirling inside me. Like... do you like me in that way? Like really really like me? Are you really worth liking? Do I really like you? Like really really? Is this just a passing fancy? What about Kelly? You are Mike Meeker for crying out loud. I'm not meant to like you am I? But your smile is so cute and you have so much PASSION about life and issues and causes like freedom and the military and I just totally dig that ever since I saw the musical Evita and the character of Che. The Spring of 1989...it was a very confusing time.
The yearbook dance was coming up. I went. I saw Mike. He danced with Janina. Then he left. I just decided to bite the bullet and drove to his house to see if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. After all we were friends, right? I mean, he's probably got to eat. So I pulled up my rad car that my parents blessed me with for the first of what would turn into a million times of pulling up in front of the Meeker house on Elk Ridge Way.
Ding Dong.
Now, I had no idea this house held 6 brothers ages 3 to 18, 2 parents and 1 Grandmother. The door opened. It was Mike's brother that went to our school. "Hi Little Meeker" I said. I'm here to see Mike - is he home? "No, but he should be soon." Ron replied. "Cool." I said. "I'd just like to know if he wanted to go grab something to eat. Can I leave you my number? "uh...sure" and he took down the digits. I got a call from Mike about 25 minutes later asking me if I wanted to go to dinner. I told him I would pick him up. I'm sure that was weird for his traditional, conservative, limited dating self to wrap his brain around. That a girl came to his house. And left her number. And asked him out. And now was driving to his house to pick him up. Go Feminism! We went and got fried shrimp. Don't ask me why. And I paid for dinner. Then we went to a little play ground and hopped on the swings and talked for 3 hours. I have no idea what we talked about. Just that it was on these swings, where I have since taken my girls to swing, under the light of a full moon and a North Star that we fell in love. There was no kiss. No holding hands. Nothing wonky. Just talking and the bearing of our souls. It was a magical night. And I asked him out. And I paid. And I recommended the park. Homeboy had to be lead around by a ribbon in his nose.
So now we were in love. Happy and in love. And he knew it. And I knew it. And Kelly was picking me up in the morning for a day trip to the ocean. So my life sucked as much as it could for a 17 year old girl in love...with 2 boys.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Chapter 5: Forget The Whales - Save Our Teachers!!!
Spring, 1989
Dear Diary,
What to do? What to do? Just act cool and go about daily life and it'll pass right? It will FOR SURE pass. It's just a momentary crush because Mike's been so nice and then he went to senior ball with that hussy. If I just relax, keep things chill and back off, it will totally go away. And besides, I have other things to spaz out about than some guy on the brain. Things are crazy busy with student council, the Antlerette, figuring out what to do about me and Kelly....Oops, gotta go, Cosby Show is starting. I'll write more later....
Spring 1989 - Elk Grove High School
A brand new school, Florin High was going to open next year. It was a new high school down the road that would help my school, Elk Grove as well as Valley High School's overcrowding problem. The first Freshman class would start next year, then the following year would have Freshman and Sophomores, then it would have Freshman through Juniors etc. My student council was being asked to help the new school come up with an activities program plan and a student government structure. Added to that, the district was looking for teachers that were willing to transfer to the new school. Plenty of our teachers had already volunteered. However, we found out in April that our new principal Mr. Skeen was going to transfer two teachers involuntarily, meaning they didn't want to go but he wanted them out. These two teachers were outspoken members of the faculty and Ed decided he could easily and quietly get rid of his little problem by sending them to the new school. After all, the new school needed teachers and he was just doing his part to help the district out.
Well, normally, students don't get involved in these kind of administrative and staffing matters. However the two teachers being transferred were much beloved. One of them was a counselor and was directly responsible for helping seniors get scholarship money. The junior class members were very upset about his transfer because they would be needing his help in a few months to apply and seek out any available scholarship money available in our community. At the new school, he wouldn't even HAVE a senior class to help out as the new school would only have freshman. So it didn't make sense to the students of Elk Grove High why a senior class college counselor would be going to a brand new school where he couldn't even do his job for 3 more years. Upon investigating, it was discovered that both of the teachers were being transferred against their will by the evil fascist dictator masquerading as our Principal, Mr. Skeen.
The students got pretty upset about this. Ed had already made a number of bonehead and unpopular administrative decisions during his first year as principal. This decision to transfer these two teachers became the fuse that would ignite a major powder keg that would blow all over our small town and beyond. Pretty soon, you started seeing home made T-Shirts that said "Forget the Whales - Save Our Teachers". And "Don't Transfer Our Teachers". And "Fight Mr. Skeen - No Involuntary Transfers". The popularity of these T-Shirts grew and pretty soon, you saw similar sentiments being displayed on backpacks, binders, posters and picket signs being carried all over our school. The students attempted to appeal to Mr. Skeen directly and were told he would not discuss this matter with students as it was a faculty and administrative issue that did not concern them. Want to bet Ed?
So, being young and having LOTS of teachers who grew up in the 60's, a protest rally was planned. To say the other teachers were ignorant of our plans is ridiculous. Many unofficially helped in the planning and they certainly egged us on. It was decided that on a certain day, everyone would wear their T-shirts, bring their signs and when the morning bell rang signaling for all to go to 1st period class, that we would sit down in the middle of the quad (the open center section of our school where everyone hung out) and refuse to go to class.
The designated morning arrived sunny and cool. I figured it would be a pretty big day and I dressed for it. I had on black pants, nylons, heels, a hot pink angora sweater with my famous scarf tied just right around my neck making a perfect triangle down my back. It would prove to be a very poor wardrobe choice. The bell rang signaling the beginning of the day and about 80 to 100 students sat themselves down on the steps of the quad and refused to go to class. Now the students who sat were not the "typical" troublemakers and rabble-rousers of the school. They were student council members, class officers, California Scholarship Federation members, cheerleaders, athletes and club members. They were the "good" kids of the school and they were ticked off. I sat down right along with them and was proud to do so. I figured it was Ed's right to transfer these teachers but it stuck in my craw that he wouldn't even meet with us about it. And if he wouldn't talk to us, I figured it was a good idea for us to let him know that his decision was not going to fly. "I won't be ignored, Dan". (name that movie)
So there we were, doing little cheers about saving our teachers and fighting the power when all hell broke lose. The students who had decided to go to class found out about our little protest during the first 10 minutes of 1st period and they came pouring like locusts out of the classrooms. Pretty soon, 100 kids became 500 kids and by the beginning of 2nd period, NOBODY in the 2,000+ student body was going to class, but instead was in the quad. And guess what? I was Student Body President, the protesters elected representative, which made me #1 on the FBI, I mean, Administration's Most Wanted list. Pretty soon, a voice came over the school loudspeaker..."Amy Oliver, please report to the Principal's office immediately." At this moment, I was still having a very good time. My beloved students that elected me started to actually chant "Amy Amy Amy"' as I stood up. I got up and began walking through the throngs of sitting students toward the administration offices amidst high fives and cheers. I like to think I walked with purpose that day, shoulders back and head high, ready to do battle with an oppressive power. I took my Student Council Vice President with me for back up and off we marched to fight the good fight on behalf of our electorate.
Ed was in his office. This time, I wasn't kept waiting for him to get off the phone and I had no time to blow bubbles. He called me right in. His Vice Principals were with him. His face was beet red and little veins were poking out. "Miss Oliver, I suggest you march out there and tell your students to get back to class, NOW". Normally, I intimidate pretty easily. But today, I had the support of the masses and I wasn't backing down. "Mr. Skeen, with all due respect, no. I won't tell them to go to class. They have an issue with your administration and they are peacefully protesting a decision that you made and they have a right to be heard". I felt just like Norma Rae. It was great. He then said, "how do you think they'll feel when I call the police?" Ummmm...now I started to get a little scared. "Well, Mr. Skeen, I'm sure no one would like to see the police involved. I will take your request back to the students but I honestly dont' think they are going to budge." He bugged out his eyes at me and shaking said "well, young lady, you just make sure they do or else."
So out I went back to the mass of students in the quad. By this time someone had gotten hold of a bull horn. Ray Lindsay (a scholar athlete who was known for intensity on and off the football field and who would later be my best man at my wedding) had the bull horn. He came up to me and said "Amy, what did they say." I said "they want us to go back to class." He got on the horn and announced, "The Principal thinks you should go to class." which got a chorus of boos and no ways and Skeen sucks shouted back in my direction. Then I said to my Vice President Bryan really quietly, "do you think he'll really call the police?" Well, Ray with the bullhorn, overheard this and announced to all the protesters that "They're calling in the NATIONAL GUARD!!!"
Now, as you can imagine, pandemonium ensued. Students started shouting, chanting, yelling. Pretty soon, news cameras had arrived. When Ed Skeen came out of his offices flanked by the rest of his administration and tried to get the students back to class on his own he was pounded with raw eggs. A bunch of sh*t kicker cowboys tied a noose to a tree and hung a fake Ed from it. The rockers had "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Quiet Riot blasting from their boom boxes. The cheerleaders were leading protest cheers. The stoners were off in the corner smoking pot. The nerds were off in another corner doing their homework or something. The yearbook staff was on the roof with cameras trying to capture it all. Somebody even got a beach ball bouncing through the crowd. Most people didn't even know why we were there. But they were 14 to 17 years old and out of class on a sunny spring day. They didn't need to know. Whatever the cause was, they were 100% behind it.
And there I was, being called back and forth to the Principal's office to be yelled at by everyone from Mr. Skeen to Mr. Trigg the School District Superintendent. To them, I represented their lack of control. And let me tell ya...these guys were sort of Nazi-ish. Control was something that they just didn't lose. And somebody was going to pay for it. And that somebody was me.
In between going back and forth, the number of TV cameras grew. All the major news stations were there by now. I kept seeing a white flash running from camera to camera giving quotes to the television stations but I was busy and paid it no attention. By this point, things were getting out of hand. I think a garbage can was set on fire and there were waaayyyyy too many people closed off in that quad to get out safely if there was an emergency. Like a fire. I was starting to get a little scared for all of our safety. Someone tipped off the TV reporters that I was Student Body President and representing the students in this thing, so at one point I found myself giving an interview with no less than 4 cameras turned on me and the same number of microphones in my face. As I was speaking to the media and what I imagined was the television viewing population of Northern California, calmly explaining what the students concerns were, how we wanted this matter resolved peacefully and how the students wanted to sit down with Mr. Skeen and he refused, that the white flash I had seen running from camera to camera jumped in front of me and began to shout. It announced he was "Mike Meeker and I just got an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy and Mr. Beckner (one of the teachers) helped me get this appointment and it was totally unfair what they were doing to him." Now, the TV reporter completely forgot about me and moved on to this totally intense young man who was giving PASSIONATE and TOTALLY IRATE and SENSATIONAL and IRRESPONSIBLE soundbites to them. I was completely forgotten. And as Mike yelled injustice at the top of his lungs on local television, things continued to erupt. I remember wanting to squash him where he stood. Because...
A. he totally stole my thunder.
B. he totally poached MY interview.
C. he was inciting a riot.
D. he wasn't even PART of the original group that sat down. He jumped on our bandwagon then took credit for our success.
I HATE when people do that.
At about this point, Mr. Skeen got on the loud speaker again and announced that school was dismissed for the day and that the students should go to their homes immediately. Now, getting out of school for the day became the cause of much celebration and joy. Binders were emptied and papers flew in the air. Trash was littered all over the quad. Suddenly, students that were protesting on behalf of their beloved teachers were given a "get out of school free" pass and the quad cleared in all of 5 minutes. So much for commitment to the cause.
My fellow student council members and I were in meetings with school district leadership until 7:30 that night. By day's end I had blisters, my angora sweater had all sorts of stains and tears. My scarf was crooked! And my pants were filthy. I even had a hole in my barely black nylons. I hated this day by the end of it. They could transfer those two teachers to Siberia for all I cared. I even had to have my mom tape the news on our VCR because I wasn't home in time to watch it.
By the time I got home and watched the tape of the evening news, I was tired, emotionally drained and thinking about running away to finish my senior year at some all girls boarding school in Switzerland. The only bright spot I thought is that I got to be on TV. I was really looking forward to seeing myself and my cute sweater/scarf combo on TV. I mean, what 17 year old wouldn't think it's pretty cool that they lead the evening news on all channels. But you know what really happened? I got on TV for 2 seconds saying I wanted a peaceful resolution and then they cut to a full 2 minutes of Mike Meeker ranting and raving. They even called him one of the protest organizers! He came out like the ring leader of the whole thing and he didn't even KNOW about it until he was sitting in first period. Seeing Mike Meeker on the news that night was my breaking point. I was FURIOUS. All of a sudden, Mike was responsible for why I was dirty, tired and had been yelled at for hours upon hours after students LIKE MIKE, had gone home early and probably had themselves a fun day floating in the pool and listening to the radio. At that moment, Mike Meeker was the most unattractive, stupid, trouble causing, stupid, ridiculous, out of control, stupid boy I knew. And he could think again if he thought I wasn't going to let him know exactly what I thought of him first thing tomorrow when I got to English class. That idiot. He made it so much worse than it had to be. He endangered the students safety and made my job a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be. AND he took my air time. What an arrogant jerk. Who did he think he was? Wait until I got to English tomorrow. Just wait. Boy oh boy was I going to let him HAVE IT!!!
Dear Diary,
What to do? What to do? Just act cool and go about daily life and it'll pass right? It will FOR SURE pass. It's just a momentary crush because Mike's been so nice and then he went to senior ball with that hussy. If I just relax, keep things chill and back off, it will totally go away. And besides, I have other things to spaz out about than some guy on the brain. Things are crazy busy with student council, the Antlerette, figuring out what to do about me and Kelly....Oops, gotta go, Cosby Show is starting. I'll write more later....
Spring 1989 - Elk Grove High School
A brand new school, Florin High was going to open next year. It was a new high school down the road that would help my school, Elk Grove as well as Valley High School's overcrowding problem. The first Freshman class would start next year, then the following year would have Freshman and Sophomores, then it would have Freshman through Juniors etc. My student council was being asked to help the new school come up with an activities program plan and a student government structure. Added to that, the district was looking for teachers that were willing to transfer to the new school. Plenty of our teachers had already volunteered. However, we found out in April that our new principal Mr. Skeen was going to transfer two teachers involuntarily, meaning they didn't want to go but he wanted them out. These two teachers were outspoken members of the faculty and Ed decided he could easily and quietly get rid of his little problem by sending them to the new school. After all, the new school needed teachers and he was just doing his part to help the district out.
Well, normally, students don't get involved in these kind of administrative and staffing matters. However the two teachers being transferred were much beloved. One of them was a counselor and was directly responsible for helping seniors get scholarship money. The junior class members were very upset about his transfer because they would be needing his help in a few months to apply and seek out any available scholarship money available in our community. At the new school, he wouldn't even HAVE a senior class to help out as the new school would only have freshman. So it didn't make sense to the students of Elk Grove High why a senior class college counselor would be going to a brand new school where he couldn't even do his job for 3 more years. Upon investigating, it was discovered that both of the teachers were being transferred against their will by the evil fascist dictator masquerading as our Principal, Mr. Skeen.
The students got pretty upset about this. Ed had already made a number of bonehead and unpopular administrative decisions during his first year as principal. This decision to transfer these two teachers became the fuse that would ignite a major powder keg that would blow all over our small town and beyond. Pretty soon, you started seeing home made T-Shirts that said "Forget the Whales - Save Our Teachers". And "Don't Transfer Our Teachers". And "Fight Mr. Skeen - No Involuntary Transfers". The popularity of these T-Shirts grew and pretty soon, you saw similar sentiments being displayed on backpacks, binders, posters and picket signs being carried all over our school. The students attempted to appeal to Mr. Skeen directly and were told he would not discuss this matter with students as it was a faculty and administrative issue that did not concern them. Want to bet Ed?
So, being young and having LOTS of teachers who grew up in the 60's, a protest rally was planned. To say the other teachers were ignorant of our plans is ridiculous. Many unofficially helped in the planning and they certainly egged us on. It was decided that on a certain day, everyone would wear their T-shirts, bring their signs and when the morning bell rang signaling for all to go to 1st period class, that we would sit down in the middle of the quad (the open center section of our school where everyone hung out) and refuse to go to class.
The designated morning arrived sunny and cool. I figured it would be a pretty big day and I dressed for it. I had on black pants, nylons, heels, a hot pink angora sweater with my famous scarf tied just right around my neck making a perfect triangle down my back. It would prove to be a very poor wardrobe choice. The bell rang signaling the beginning of the day and about 80 to 100 students sat themselves down on the steps of the quad and refused to go to class. Now the students who sat were not the "typical" troublemakers and rabble-rousers of the school. They were student council members, class officers, California Scholarship Federation members, cheerleaders, athletes and club members. They were the "good" kids of the school and they were ticked off. I sat down right along with them and was proud to do so. I figured it was Ed's right to transfer these teachers but it stuck in my craw that he wouldn't even meet with us about it. And if he wouldn't talk to us, I figured it was a good idea for us to let him know that his decision was not going to fly. "I won't be ignored, Dan". (name that movie)
So there we were, doing little cheers about saving our teachers and fighting the power when all hell broke lose. The students who had decided to go to class found out about our little protest during the first 10 minutes of 1st period and they came pouring like locusts out of the classrooms. Pretty soon, 100 kids became 500 kids and by the beginning of 2nd period, NOBODY in the 2,000+ student body was going to class, but instead was in the quad. And guess what? I was Student Body President, the protesters elected representative, which made me #1 on the FBI, I mean, Administration's Most Wanted list. Pretty soon, a voice came over the school loudspeaker..."Amy Oliver, please report to the Principal's office immediately." At this moment, I was still having a very good time. My beloved students that elected me started to actually chant "Amy Amy Amy"' as I stood up. I got up and began walking through the throngs of sitting students toward the administration offices amidst high fives and cheers. I like to think I walked with purpose that day, shoulders back and head high, ready to do battle with an oppressive power. I took my Student Council Vice President with me for back up and off we marched to fight the good fight on behalf of our electorate.
Ed was in his office. This time, I wasn't kept waiting for him to get off the phone and I had no time to blow bubbles. He called me right in. His Vice Principals were with him. His face was beet red and little veins were poking out. "Miss Oliver, I suggest you march out there and tell your students to get back to class, NOW". Normally, I intimidate pretty easily. But today, I had the support of the masses and I wasn't backing down. "Mr. Skeen, with all due respect, no. I won't tell them to go to class. They have an issue with your administration and they are peacefully protesting a decision that you made and they have a right to be heard". I felt just like Norma Rae. It was great. He then said, "how do you think they'll feel when I call the police?" Ummmm...now I started to get a little scared. "Well, Mr. Skeen, I'm sure no one would like to see the police involved. I will take your request back to the students but I honestly dont' think they are going to budge." He bugged out his eyes at me and shaking said "well, young lady, you just make sure they do or else."
So out I went back to the mass of students in the quad. By this time someone had gotten hold of a bull horn. Ray Lindsay (a scholar athlete who was known for intensity on and off the football field and who would later be my best man at my wedding) had the bull horn. He came up to me and said "Amy, what did they say." I said "they want us to go back to class." He got on the horn and announced, "The Principal thinks you should go to class." which got a chorus of boos and no ways and Skeen sucks shouted back in my direction. Then I said to my Vice President Bryan really quietly, "do you think he'll really call the police?" Well, Ray with the bullhorn, overheard this and announced to all the protesters that "They're calling in the NATIONAL GUARD!!!"
Now, as you can imagine, pandemonium ensued. Students started shouting, chanting, yelling. Pretty soon, news cameras had arrived. When Ed Skeen came out of his offices flanked by the rest of his administration and tried to get the students back to class on his own he was pounded with raw eggs. A bunch of sh*t kicker cowboys tied a noose to a tree and hung a fake Ed from it. The rockers had "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Quiet Riot blasting from their boom boxes. The cheerleaders were leading protest cheers. The stoners were off in the corner smoking pot. The nerds were off in another corner doing their homework or something. The yearbook staff was on the roof with cameras trying to capture it all. Somebody even got a beach ball bouncing through the crowd. Most people didn't even know why we were there. But they were 14 to 17 years old and out of class on a sunny spring day. They didn't need to know. Whatever the cause was, they were 100% behind it.
And there I was, being called back and forth to the Principal's office to be yelled at by everyone from Mr. Skeen to Mr. Trigg the School District Superintendent. To them, I represented their lack of control. And let me tell ya...these guys were sort of Nazi-ish. Control was something that they just didn't lose. And somebody was going to pay for it. And that somebody was me.
In between going back and forth, the number of TV cameras grew. All the major news stations were there by now. I kept seeing a white flash running from camera to camera giving quotes to the television stations but I was busy and paid it no attention. By this point, things were getting out of hand. I think a garbage can was set on fire and there were waaayyyyy too many people closed off in that quad to get out safely if there was an emergency. Like a fire. I was starting to get a little scared for all of our safety. Someone tipped off the TV reporters that I was Student Body President and representing the students in this thing, so at one point I found myself giving an interview with no less than 4 cameras turned on me and the same number of microphones in my face. As I was speaking to the media and what I imagined was the television viewing population of Northern California, calmly explaining what the students concerns were, how we wanted this matter resolved peacefully and how the students wanted to sit down with Mr. Skeen and he refused, that the white flash I had seen running from camera to camera jumped in front of me and began to shout. It announced he was "Mike Meeker and I just got an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy and Mr. Beckner (one of the teachers) helped me get this appointment and it was totally unfair what they were doing to him." Now, the TV reporter completely forgot about me and moved on to this totally intense young man who was giving PASSIONATE and TOTALLY IRATE and SENSATIONAL and IRRESPONSIBLE soundbites to them. I was completely forgotten. And as Mike yelled injustice at the top of his lungs on local television, things continued to erupt. I remember wanting to squash him where he stood. Because...
A. he totally stole my thunder.
B. he totally poached MY interview.
C. he was inciting a riot.
D. he wasn't even PART of the original group that sat down. He jumped on our bandwagon then took credit for our success.
I HATE when people do that.
At about this point, Mr. Skeen got on the loud speaker again and announced that school was dismissed for the day and that the students should go to their homes immediately. Now, getting out of school for the day became the cause of much celebration and joy. Binders were emptied and papers flew in the air. Trash was littered all over the quad. Suddenly, students that were protesting on behalf of their beloved teachers were given a "get out of school free" pass and the quad cleared in all of 5 minutes. So much for commitment to the cause.
My fellow student council members and I were in meetings with school district leadership until 7:30 that night. By day's end I had blisters, my angora sweater had all sorts of stains and tears. My scarf was crooked! And my pants were filthy. I even had a hole in my barely black nylons. I hated this day by the end of it. They could transfer those two teachers to Siberia for all I cared. I even had to have my mom tape the news on our VCR because I wasn't home in time to watch it.
By the time I got home and watched the tape of the evening news, I was tired, emotionally drained and thinking about running away to finish my senior year at some all girls boarding school in Switzerland. The only bright spot I thought is that I got to be on TV. I was really looking forward to seeing myself and my cute sweater/scarf combo on TV. I mean, what 17 year old wouldn't think it's pretty cool that they lead the evening news on all channels. But you know what really happened? I got on TV for 2 seconds saying I wanted a peaceful resolution and then they cut to a full 2 minutes of Mike Meeker ranting and raving. They even called him one of the protest organizers! He came out like the ring leader of the whole thing and he didn't even KNOW about it until he was sitting in first period. Seeing Mike Meeker on the news that night was my breaking point. I was FURIOUS. All of a sudden, Mike was responsible for why I was dirty, tired and had been yelled at for hours upon hours after students LIKE MIKE, had gone home early and probably had themselves a fun day floating in the pool and listening to the radio. At that moment, Mike Meeker was the most unattractive, stupid, trouble causing, stupid, ridiculous, out of control, stupid boy I knew. And he could think again if he thought I wasn't going to let him know exactly what I thought of him first thing tomorrow when I got to English class. That idiot. He made it so much worse than it had to be. He endangered the students safety and made my job a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be. AND he took my air time. What an arrogant jerk. Who did he think he was? Wait until I got to English tomorrow. Just wait. Boy oh boy was I going to let him HAVE IT!!!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Chapter 4: Red Dresses and Realizations
Our Senior Ball that Spring was everything you think a prom or ball or big dance in high school would be. I had expectations that were grandiose: the perfect gown, perfect date, perfect hair, perfect limo, perfect fancy dinner and the rush and excitement of falling in love like only 17 year olds can... with sheer abandon and complete drama. Reality was exactly what you would expect as well. A nice boy who I had dated all year and with whom I was in a comfortable albeit calm romance with, in his Ford Escort that he worked so hard to afford. A dress that, while in my mind turned me into Cindy Crawford, in actuality just made me look like a dressed-up, cleaned-up version of myself. Nerves made me bitchy to my parents who, I was sure, were probably hoping to snap pictures and freeze this moment in their brains as one of the pinnacles of parenthood. They probably wanted to reminisce over red wine after I left for the evening about my first steps, first day of kindergarten, first lost tooth and how how quickly I had grown up into a super model/super cool and totally together young woman. Instead, they still probably had the wine, but most likely collapsed together in a heap on the couch with a calendar so they could count down the days until I left for college. See, I wasn't very nice prior to the night of the ball with my parade of demands for hair, nails, jewelry, shoes, dress, bag, lipstick etc. etc. etc. My hair turned out fine, the chicken I ate was fine, the pictures were fine, the dancing was fine and the post ball celebratory activities were fine as well. All of it was fine. Except for one little thing that nagged my mind all night. One little detail of the evening that I just couldn't quite forget about. I couldn't let it go. It just pecked at my conscience like a little chicken...peck peck peck.
See,... Mike Meeker, my now friend from English class, sat at our table during dinner with his date. Well, let me rephrase. Mike Meeker sat at our table during dinner with the boobs of his date in the chair beside him. I'm sure the girl was somewhere...off powdering her nose or visiting with friends three tables over, whatever. But her boobs. They just sat there next to Mike. When I thought about my Diet Coke from dinner, there was Mike Meeker and his date's boobs. When I thought about how cool it was that our class chose to all have dinner together at the hotel that the dance was held at instead of all going our own way to different restaurants, there were those boobs again. Floating through my brain like two, well... boobs. And a red dress. I distinctly remember a red dress. And Mike Meeker...with a big doofey smile plastered on his face the whole night. The boobs or the doofey smile. I couldn't decide what was bugging me more as I thought of my senior ball night. It's still to this day the thing I remember from that evening.
What was wrong with me? Mike was just my friend. And not a "do stuff outside of school" friend even. Just a nice boy I sat next to in English. My boyfriend Kelly and my friend Janina got moved to the other side of the classroom from Mike and I earlier in the year. Mrs. Santora got sick and tired of the four of us talking all the time and disrupting class. I guess it didn't make sense to move me and Kelly (boyfriend/girlfriend) or move me and Janina (girlfriends) so she put Janina and Kelly on one side of the classroom and me and Mike on the other. So we had months now of talking and joking around, but it was mostly me giving him girl advice about this SKANK from another school he had been dating and who I had taken a vow to save him from. (sorry to the skank if today you are a nice mother of three and live in the suburbs, but in 1989 you were a skank). And he would occasionally get an ear full about a fight Kelly and I got into and he would always take my side and tell me that I didn't deserve a boyfriend who treated me that way. (note: Kelly was actually a really nice guy and a great friend but we got into the typical teenage boyfriend/girlfriend super-drama fights that teach you how NOT to fight with your spouse someday). Mike and I just talked about stuff like college and sports and when Mike sprained his ankle that March, I gave him rides home and stuff but it was just a class friend thing and that's IT. So why couldn't I get the boobs and red dress and his stupid matching red tie and cumberbun and doofey big grin off my mind? What did I care if his date decided to come to Senior Ball in a red satin towel tied from the waist down? More power to Mike right? Go for it dude! Smile away! But my brain just wouldn't let me wish him well and go on my merry way. It drove me crazy. Why did he take a girl who would wear a dress like that to the biggest event of our lives? What was their "status" now? Was he going with her? Was it just a one night thing? Oh GOSH! What if it WAS just a one night thing? What happened in that one night? Mike's a nice guy. Surely nothing happened! Surely he gave her his tuxedo jacket and told her "in the name of all that is decent - cover yourself, madam!" Mike was a boy with morals and was probably right now praying and taking a vow to stay away from all red dresses forevermore. Who was I kidding? Oh crap, why did I care? And why, on Monday, as I walked into 3rd period English was my voice so high and my palms so sweaty and why did I all of a sudden HAVE to know every detail of their evening and why oh why was I stopping on my way to class to put on lip gloss and smell my armpits which were now sopping wet? Is it hot in here?
"Uh oh. I love Kelly. I am Kelly's girlfriend. I am half of a couple. We have mutual friends. Kelly is my best friend. He loves me. He's a GREAT boyfriend. Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker...Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker... MIKE MEEKER THE GEEKER SEEKER. Come on Amy... GET A GRIP!"
"... oh crap... "
See,... Mike Meeker, my now friend from English class, sat at our table during dinner with his date. Well, let me rephrase. Mike Meeker sat at our table during dinner with the boobs of his date in the chair beside him. I'm sure the girl was somewhere...off powdering her nose or visiting with friends three tables over, whatever. But her boobs. They just sat there next to Mike. When I thought about my Diet Coke from dinner, there was Mike Meeker and his date's boobs. When I thought about how cool it was that our class chose to all have dinner together at the hotel that the dance was held at instead of all going our own way to different restaurants, there were those boobs again. Floating through my brain like two, well... boobs. And a red dress. I distinctly remember a red dress. And Mike Meeker...with a big doofey smile plastered on his face the whole night. The boobs or the doofey smile. I couldn't decide what was bugging me more as I thought of my senior ball night. It's still to this day the thing I remember from that evening.
What was wrong with me? Mike was just my friend. And not a "do stuff outside of school" friend even. Just a nice boy I sat next to in English. My boyfriend Kelly and my friend Janina got moved to the other side of the classroom from Mike and I earlier in the year. Mrs. Santora got sick and tired of the four of us talking all the time and disrupting class. I guess it didn't make sense to move me and Kelly (boyfriend/girlfriend) or move me and Janina (girlfriends) so she put Janina and Kelly on one side of the classroom and me and Mike on the other. So we had months now of talking and joking around, but it was mostly me giving him girl advice about this SKANK from another school he had been dating and who I had taken a vow to save him from. (sorry to the skank if today you are a nice mother of three and live in the suburbs, but in 1989 you were a skank). And he would occasionally get an ear full about a fight Kelly and I got into and he would always take my side and tell me that I didn't deserve a boyfriend who treated me that way. (note: Kelly was actually a really nice guy and a great friend but we got into the typical teenage boyfriend/girlfriend super-drama fights that teach you how NOT to fight with your spouse someday). Mike and I just talked about stuff like college and sports and when Mike sprained his ankle that March, I gave him rides home and stuff but it was just a class friend thing and that's IT. So why couldn't I get the boobs and red dress and his stupid matching red tie and cumberbun and doofey big grin off my mind? What did I care if his date decided to come to Senior Ball in a red satin towel tied from the waist down? More power to Mike right? Go for it dude! Smile away! But my brain just wouldn't let me wish him well and go on my merry way. It drove me crazy. Why did he take a girl who would wear a dress like that to the biggest event of our lives? What was their "status" now? Was he going with her? Was it just a one night thing? Oh GOSH! What if it WAS just a one night thing? What happened in that one night? Mike's a nice guy. Surely nothing happened! Surely he gave her his tuxedo jacket and told her "in the name of all that is decent - cover yourself, madam!" Mike was a boy with morals and was probably right now praying and taking a vow to stay away from all red dresses forevermore. Who was I kidding? Oh crap, why did I care? And why, on Monday, as I walked into 3rd period English was my voice so high and my palms so sweaty and why did I all of a sudden HAVE to know every detail of their evening and why oh why was I stopping on my way to class to put on lip gloss and smell my armpits which were now sopping wet? Is it hot in here?
"Uh oh. I love Kelly. I am Kelly's girlfriend. I am half of a couple. We have mutual friends. Kelly is my best friend. He loves me. He's a GREAT boyfriend. Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker...Mike Meeker the Geeker Seeker... MIKE MEEKER THE GEEKER SEEKER. Come on Amy... GET A GRIP!"
"... oh crap... "
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Chapter 3: The Odyssey of Heart of Darkness
Fall, 1988.
I stood outside our brand new principal Mr. Skeen's office in my Limited Express button fly acid wash jeans and my Black angora sweater with a floral scarf tied just right around my shoulders making a perfect triangle down my back. My penny loafers were all shined up and my new Liz Claiborne purse was filled with "Extra" green gum, a purple pen, purple and pink eyeshadow, pink lip gloss, a banana clip, Salon Selectives hairspray and these new maxi pads called "Always". Mr. Woodbury was cussing at the ditto machine as I waited for the principal. I needed a favor.
I was Student Body President, Editor of the Antlerette, the speech team darling and pretty full of my 17 year old self. My new boyfriend had 3rd period AP English. I had 1st period AP English. And this just wouldn't do. I needed to switch. But the semester was already in full swing. In fact, it was the end of October and nobody got to switch classes this late in the game. But I wasn't nobody. At least not to me. Our student body council ruled the school and controlled more than a bunch of kids ever should. And this new principal, Ed Skeen, really wanted to be a (air quotes) "friend to the students". He wanted to prove he was a cool guy. I think he blew his chances when he brought his wife to our first pep rally of the year sporting a porcelain heart button staying "I "heart" Ed". I sort of lost respect for this guy at that point. But he wanted to prove he was on the students side and I was their elected leader and I needed to switch classes so there I stood, blowing bright green minty bubbles, waiting for Ed to get off the phone and call me inside.
Transferring to 3rd period AP English was a piece of cake. Ed really sucked up my story about needing a lighter class 1st period so I could prepare for Student Government 2nd period and serve the school more efficiently. "Mr. Skeen, I just feel that I would have more to give the students if I didn't have to think so hard so early in the morning.", I said with my best speech tournament voice. (I didn't really say this exactly, but it was probably something that stupid so that will suffice for our purposes) Ed bought it hook, line and sinker and off I went feeling very super rad about myself. You'll come to learn in future chapters that Ed was no "friend of the students" but was, in reality, an evil facist that had to be overthrown.
So, on my first day of Mrs. Santora's 3rd PERIOD English class, I walked in to friendly faces and my great senior year boyfriend Kelly, who had kicked out whoever had previously sat in the desk next to him. I remember being in the middle of Kelly on one side and Janina Tollenaar who was on student council with me on the other. Behind her, was some guy I vaguely recognized from school. Oh yeah, it was that Mike Meeker kid. Whatever...as long as Kelly and Janina were sitting by me it should be a pretty fun year.
And it was. Mrs. Santora was a great English teacher. She had us do all sorts of fun projects. When we read the Odyssey she had us write our own Odyssey story about ourselves, using greek mythology and in 100% iambic pentameter or whatever that poem style that Homer used was. It was fun and I thought mine was awesome and would be the best. But then Mike Meeker got up to read his. Not only did his RHYME, (which to 17 yr old girls is the gold standard on which all poetry is judged) but it was a RAP. Being a future English Major and somewhat of a literature nerd, I thought this was the coolest thing ever. I thought that Homer would love it and I know I did. Then, it came time for us to venture into the Congo, while reading Heart of Darkness. Now, please undertand, I love literature. But I can't tell you how much I hated Heart of Darkness. It was awful. It seemed like everyone in the class loved the blood and gutts and all the light/dark/evil/good/cannibal/noncanibal symbollism that this book is known for. It just gave me a headache. And while we were studying it, I could always count on the kid behind Janina, Mike Meeker, to make some sarcastic remark about symbollism under his breath or laugh at totally inappropriate times while we were discussing the book. This was always funny but shocking at the same time because Mike Meeker was the ultimate "school boy". You know that label you gave straight A, boyscout types who never turned in their homework late and actually pumped their fist in celebration when a pop quiz was announced. So first the Odyssey RAP, then the sarcastic cool Heart of Darkness comments. Then, he decided he didn't like sitting in his desk and he moved over to the wall on the side of the classroom, sat in a chair and tipped it back on two legs for a lot of the year. Just because he felt like it. And even though Mrs. Santora required all of our work to be completed in pen, he refused to do it. He liked his pencil. Sure it was a mechanical pencil that he kept in his vinyl Members Only jacket's inside pocket, but I thought it was funny and possibly COOL. So before I knew it, Mike Meeker and I were joking around in class and Janina, Kelly, Mike and I became a foursome of friends who sat together, did projects together and laughed together. I adopted Mike into our little group. He earned his way in with his rapping, joke making, chair tipping, pencil rebellion shenanigans.
Little did I know, this was the beginning of the end for Kelly and me and the start of the rest of my life.
I stood outside our brand new principal Mr. Skeen's office in my Limited Express button fly acid wash jeans and my Black angora sweater with a floral scarf tied just right around my shoulders making a perfect triangle down my back. My penny loafers were all shined up and my new Liz Claiborne purse was filled with "Extra" green gum, a purple pen, purple and pink eyeshadow, pink lip gloss, a banana clip, Salon Selectives hairspray and these new maxi pads called "Always". Mr. Woodbury was cussing at the ditto machine as I waited for the principal. I needed a favor.
I was Student Body President, Editor of the Antlerette, the speech team darling and pretty full of my 17 year old self. My new boyfriend had 3rd period AP English. I had 1st period AP English. And this just wouldn't do. I needed to switch. But the semester was already in full swing. In fact, it was the end of October and nobody got to switch classes this late in the game. But I wasn't nobody. At least not to me. Our student body council ruled the school and controlled more than a bunch of kids ever should. And this new principal, Ed Skeen, really wanted to be a (air quotes) "friend to the students". He wanted to prove he was a cool guy. I think he blew his chances when he brought his wife to our first pep rally of the year sporting a porcelain heart button staying "I "heart" Ed". I sort of lost respect for this guy at that point. But he wanted to prove he was on the students side and I was their elected leader and I needed to switch classes so there I stood, blowing bright green minty bubbles, waiting for Ed to get off the phone and call me inside.
Transferring to 3rd period AP English was a piece of cake. Ed really sucked up my story about needing a lighter class 1st period so I could prepare for Student Government 2nd period and serve the school more efficiently. "Mr. Skeen, I just feel that I would have more to give the students if I didn't have to think so hard so early in the morning.", I said with my best speech tournament voice. (I didn't really say this exactly, but it was probably something that stupid so that will suffice for our purposes) Ed bought it hook, line and sinker and off I went feeling very super rad about myself. You'll come to learn in future chapters that Ed was no "friend of the students" but was, in reality, an evil facist that had to be overthrown.
So, on my first day of Mrs. Santora's 3rd PERIOD English class, I walked in to friendly faces and my great senior year boyfriend Kelly, who had kicked out whoever had previously sat in the desk next to him. I remember being in the middle of Kelly on one side and Janina Tollenaar who was on student council with me on the other. Behind her, was some guy I vaguely recognized from school. Oh yeah, it was that Mike Meeker kid. Whatever...as long as Kelly and Janina were sitting by me it should be a pretty fun year.
And it was. Mrs. Santora was a great English teacher. She had us do all sorts of fun projects. When we read the Odyssey she had us write our own Odyssey story about ourselves, using greek mythology and in 100% iambic pentameter or whatever that poem style that Homer used was. It was fun and I thought mine was awesome and would be the best. But then Mike Meeker got up to read his. Not only did his RHYME, (which to 17 yr old girls is the gold standard on which all poetry is judged) but it was a RAP. Being a future English Major and somewhat of a literature nerd, I thought this was the coolest thing ever. I thought that Homer would love it and I know I did. Then, it came time for us to venture into the Congo, while reading Heart of Darkness. Now, please undertand, I love literature. But I can't tell you how much I hated Heart of Darkness. It was awful. It seemed like everyone in the class loved the blood and gutts and all the light/dark/evil/good/cannibal/noncanibal symbollism that this book is known for. It just gave me a headache. And while we were studying it, I could always count on the kid behind Janina, Mike Meeker, to make some sarcastic remark about symbollism under his breath or laugh at totally inappropriate times while we were discussing the book. This was always funny but shocking at the same time because Mike Meeker was the ultimate "school boy". You know that label you gave straight A, boyscout types who never turned in their homework late and actually pumped their fist in celebration when a pop quiz was announced. So first the Odyssey RAP, then the sarcastic cool Heart of Darkness comments. Then, he decided he didn't like sitting in his desk and he moved over to the wall on the side of the classroom, sat in a chair and tipped it back on two legs for a lot of the year. Just because he felt like it. And even though Mrs. Santora required all of our work to be completed in pen, he refused to do it. He liked his pencil. Sure it was a mechanical pencil that he kept in his vinyl Members Only jacket's inside pocket, but I thought it was funny and possibly COOL. So before I knew it, Mike Meeker and I were joking around in class and Janina, Kelly, Mike and I became a foursome of friends who sat together, did projects together and laughed together. I adopted Mike into our little group. He earned his way in with his rapping, joke making, chair tipping, pencil rebellion shenanigans.
Little did I know, this was the beginning of the end for Kelly and me and the start of the rest of my life.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Chapter 2 - Mike Meeker The Geeker Seeker
After the condom in my book incident of 1984, I decided that I most definitely was not and never would be a girl who liked Mike Meeker. I came home that evening, outraged that the public school system would allow something that humiliating to happen to a young impressionable girl like myself. My parents, as usual, gave no comfort but got a big kick out of the story and told me to "suck it up" (famous words of my parents which will be said at all times when I experience mortification, exhaustion, bad grades, heartbreak etc.) My mom asked again who was the boy that laughed so hard? "It was that creepy Mike Meeker... he's such a nerd (or geek, or spaz, or dweeb...I don't remember what I said but I'm sure it was something eloquent like that). All I remember her saying is..."Mike Meeker, he's really smart right?" Yes, I thought, he is smart Mom, but that is beside the point, he is the boy who laughed at my humiliation and fell out of his chair, how about a little female solidarity? "You know Amy," my mom continued oblivious to my desire for her to rag on Mike Meeker, "those boys you think are nerds, they're the ones who grow up and make the best husbands. They have good jobs and they are usually really nice." My reply was "Eeeeeewwwwww MMMOOOMMM. That is sooooooooo gross, like gag me with a pitchfork fer sure. There's no way anybody I know ever will date Mike Meeker. That's like so lame." And with that I probably flitted my way off to my room to call Gretchen and tell her the story for like the 10th time, wait for her to stop laughing and then to give me total chick support. That's the great thing about girlfriends. They'll always trash some guy that makes fun of you in Science class.
A few mornings later, I was walking to school with Jenny and Stephanie. We thought we were pretty cool. Well, they were cool. They were tough girls who in my opinion "ruled the school" with their coolness, ability to curse, experience with boys and knowledge of things a sheltered only child just didn't know yet. I was just happy to be included walking to school with them. I think I sort of strutted on these walks as if I could soak up their coolness by being in their feathered hair, tight jeans with zippers on the ankles, Flashdance off the shoulder sweatshirt wearing presence. Up ahead of us there was a small boy also walking to school. He was loaded down with books, in dark denim (NOT cool) pants that were ironed and too short for him so his white tube socks showed out from beneath. He had a gigantic yellow Goody comb with a big handle stuck in his back pocket. I think I said "hey, get a load of Highwater...", a little too loudly and they boy turned around. It was that pesky Mike Meeker. He didn't say anything rude or laugh... but in MY mind I knew that in HIS mind, he was thinking about how he had the crowning achievement in my mortification. I said to my friends something like, "ugh, it's Mike Meeker, I don't like that kid." So Stephanie, in all her quick wit and tough girl manner said really loudly "hey Mike Meeker, you Geeker Seeker". Jenny and I laughed really hard. We thought this was the funniest thing ever. Stephanie, egged on by our laughter, kept yelling loudly "MIKE MEEKER THE GEEKER SEEKER....HEY GEEKER SEEKER!...MEEKER GEEKER." You get the idea, she was taunting him. Just then, the most profound thing happened. As he looked back at us strutting behind him and giving high fives, and his eyes locked on mine for just a moment. In them, I saw the same look that had been in my own eyes during Science class. His eyes pleaded for this to stop, for something to happen that would make this girl shut up and go away. He was scared, embarrassed and mad all at the same time. It was EXACTLY how I felt. Instead of feeling vindicated that he finally got what was coming to him, I remember feeling just awful. I stopped laughing and Jenny and Stephanie carried on for a few more moments and then let it drop. I walked the rest of the way to school hiding my face from my two friends because I didn't want them to see the tears streaming down it. I didn't talk (very rare for me) because I knew my voice would be shaky. I felt such awfulness for making Mike feel badly and made fun of. I knew at that moment when our eyes locked and held that this boy was not the villain and I was not the victim. We were THE SAME. I knew right then that taunting him was horrible and was causing another person the same pain that I had experienced just days before. Maybe on some level, my soul recognized Mike's soul and my 13 year old self knew on some level that this person's soul was precious to me. I don't know why I stopped laughing except that it wasn't funny all of a sudden and it made me feel like crap. It would be the first of many connections Mike and I would share...just none of these future connections would take place for a very long time.
I wouldn't cross paths again with Mike on any real level for almost 5 more years. We were classmates, coexisting in different social circles, in different classes, who knew of each other, but did not say "hi" when we passed in the hall, did not know that we would wed in bliss, only to barely make it through our second year of marriage. We didn't know we would grieve the loss of family members, the loss of pregnancies, the loss of innocence together. We didn't know that our lives would intersect in the most emotionally intimate of ways. I just went on with my life, cluelessly applying more layers of lip gloss, dating, falling in love for the first time, playing sports, going to parties, rarely studying for classes and basically being in my self absorbed little cocoon not knowing this boy passing me in the halls would one day become my everything.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Chapter 1 - There's A Condom Thingy On My BOOK
They year was 1984. David Lee Roth was belting out "Jump" on KWOD 106 FM and The Karate Kid was waxing on and waxing off on the big screen. Vans, Izods, 501s, Purple Eye Shadow and the Preppy Handbook were all the rage. I was in 7th grade, was class secretary and had a very preppy wardrobe with lots of pink and grey. I even had a skinny Billy Joel tie that I proudly wore with a sweater vest and white shirt with tails hanging out. Converse high tops were THE fashion statement and mine were red. Friday nights were spent at King Skate wishing I was Sherri Roush...the one who all the boys picked to couples skate with, the one with gleaming white leather skates and purple wheels. Sherri was the gold standard that chubby girls who developed really early measured themselves on. She had natural highlights, perfectly cut Guess Jeans, high cheekbones and perfect teeth. All the boys were crazy about Sherri. We could only hope that those who were shot down would turn their attention on one of us.
Part of Junior High education in California was for each 7th grader to take a Life Science class. Mine was 3rd period with Mr. Chapman. He was the kind of awesome teacher that you remember even if you don't remember a single thing he taught you. Everyone wanted to have Mr. Chapman for science. He was like sooooo tubular fer sure and rad to the MAX. My life was pretty happy in 7th grade. I had long and meaningful 4 week relationships with 3 different boys by then. My binder sported Amy "hearts" Mike V. (crossed out) Greg (crossed out) Jeff (crossed out) and Chris (currently not crossed out and written out in bubble letters). I had the BIGGEST crush on Chris, a boy from my church youth group. Oh, how I loved Chris. But, as things tend to go when you are 13, he loved my friend Liz way more than me. He asked me to "go with him" at our church's winter retreat and I don't think I had ever been that estactically happy in my life. He bought me a ring from Avon for Christmas and I got him a teddy bear. But Chris must have sensed how desperately I loved him and wanted to hang on to him because he wasn't very nice to me, he toyed with my affection all too often and completely ignored me if Liz was anywhere in the vicinity. My best friend in the world was Gretchen Brown. We met in Social Science and would stay best friends all through Junior High and High School. She was my Maid of Honor at my wedding. We drifted apart although we still keep in touch. I don't think I've ever had or will have a best friend as close to me and who I loved more than Gretchen. I know there's never been anyone like her since.
Back to Life Science class. We were seated at tables of six, arranged by our last names. Mine was Oliver. So I was with the M's, N' and O's. I don't remember who else was at my table except for this small, smart boy who sat across from me named Mike Meeker. Mike was the kind of kid that was quiet, smart, short and who a girl like me with Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker perfectly applied and bubble gum chosen each day to precisely match my outfit would never ever notice. I didn't know if he was nice, or funny or that he would someday become the greatest father to 2 lucky little girls. I didn't know that he was my soul mate and my best friend and the person on whom I would rest my heart, my eternal happiness and the safety and well being of my children. For now, he was a nerdish boy, who went unnoticed by yours truly...the lipgloss, preppy, loud, funny, bossy, lover of all things Chris.
In the Spring, it came time for the Life Science unit on Sex Education. California figured we were all going through puberty and we better know some basic stuff or we could really screw up our pimply hormonal selves and they didn't want the blame. I know those of you who grew up in other states probably think this is horrible but it's just how California rolls. It's a NO FAULT state and California wanted NO blame for any of our hormonal blunders so to speak. So we all had to go through Life Science in the Spring of our 7th grade year.
Mr. Chapman handled this subject in his normal cool, Hawaiian shirt wearing ways. He was funny without being inappropriate and made it all seem light and not so serious or taboo. The final day of the unit was devoted to birth control methods and Mr. Chapman brought some visual aides. He taught us the only full proof method was abstinence and encouraged us to follow that route. However he was not naive enough to think most would do that so he came prepared with what a pack of birth control pills looked like, what a diaphram was, what an IUD looked like and was and finally a condom. This was in the days before the HIV-AIDS scare so condoms were just another birth control method that was presented along with everything else.
He showed what each of these things looked like. When he got to the condom, he explained, via banana how it worked. To demonstrate it's stretch he shot it across the room like a rubber band. Guess where it landed? In MY open Life Science book AFTER bouncing off my forehead. The class chuckled softly. Except for one boy. One boy in the class started laughing hysterically. He was shaking with laughter and fell out of his chair on the floor with uncontrolled laughter. I guess it was because he had the best seat in the house to witness my humiliation. The seat right across from me at the table. That's right, Mike Meeker is the only thing I remember about this most embarrassing moment. I remember the condom in my book, my faced flushed and my heart racing, my hands sweaty and Mike Meeker on the floor shaking with hysterics.
I decided not to like that kid from that point on. And as you'll discover, I didn't.
Part of Junior High education in California was for each 7th grader to take a Life Science class. Mine was 3rd period with Mr. Chapman. He was the kind of awesome teacher that you remember even if you don't remember a single thing he taught you. Everyone wanted to have Mr. Chapman for science. He was like sooooo tubular fer sure and rad to the MAX. My life was pretty happy in 7th grade. I had long and meaningful 4 week relationships with 3 different boys by then. My binder sported Amy "hearts" Mike V. (crossed out) Greg (crossed out) Jeff (crossed out) and Chris (currently not crossed out and written out in bubble letters). I had the BIGGEST crush on Chris, a boy from my church youth group. Oh, how I loved Chris. But, as things tend to go when you are 13, he loved my friend Liz way more than me. He asked me to "go with him" at our church's winter retreat and I don't think I had ever been that estactically happy in my life. He bought me a ring from Avon for Christmas and I got him a teddy bear. But Chris must have sensed how desperately I loved him and wanted to hang on to him because he wasn't very nice to me, he toyed with my affection all too often and completely ignored me if Liz was anywhere in the vicinity. My best friend in the world was Gretchen Brown. We met in Social Science and would stay best friends all through Junior High and High School. She was my Maid of Honor at my wedding. We drifted apart although we still keep in touch. I don't think I've ever had or will have a best friend as close to me and who I loved more than Gretchen. I know there's never been anyone like her since.
Back to Life Science class. We were seated at tables of six, arranged by our last names. Mine was Oliver. So I was with the M's, N' and O's. I don't remember who else was at my table except for this small, smart boy who sat across from me named Mike Meeker. Mike was the kind of kid that was quiet, smart, short and who a girl like me with Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker perfectly applied and bubble gum chosen each day to precisely match my outfit would never ever notice. I didn't know if he was nice, or funny or that he would someday become the greatest father to 2 lucky little girls. I didn't know that he was my soul mate and my best friend and the person on whom I would rest my heart, my eternal happiness and the safety and well being of my children. For now, he was a nerdish boy, who went unnoticed by yours truly...the lipgloss, preppy, loud, funny, bossy, lover of all things Chris.
In the Spring, it came time for the Life Science unit on Sex Education. California figured we were all going through puberty and we better know some basic stuff or we could really screw up our pimply hormonal selves and they didn't want the blame. I know those of you who grew up in other states probably think this is horrible but it's just how California rolls. It's a NO FAULT state and California wanted NO blame for any of our hormonal blunders so to speak. So we all had to go through Life Science in the Spring of our 7th grade year.
Mr. Chapman handled this subject in his normal cool, Hawaiian shirt wearing ways. He was funny without being inappropriate and made it all seem light and not so serious or taboo. The final day of the unit was devoted to birth control methods and Mr. Chapman brought some visual aides. He taught us the only full proof method was abstinence and encouraged us to follow that route. However he was not naive enough to think most would do that so he came prepared with what a pack of birth control pills looked like, what a diaphram was, what an IUD looked like and was and finally a condom. This was in the days before the HIV-AIDS scare so condoms were just another birth control method that was presented along with everything else.
He showed what each of these things looked like. When he got to the condom, he explained, via banana how it worked. To demonstrate it's stretch he shot it across the room like a rubber band. Guess where it landed? In MY open Life Science book AFTER bouncing off my forehead. The class chuckled softly. Except for one boy. One boy in the class started laughing hysterically. He was shaking with laughter and fell out of his chair on the floor with uncontrolled laughter. I guess it was because he had the best seat in the house to witness my humiliation. The seat right across from me at the table. That's right, Mike Meeker is the only thing I remember about this most embarrassing moment. I remember the condom in my book, my faced flushed and my heart racing, my hands sweaty and Mike Meeker on the floor shaking with hysterics.
I decided not to like that kid from that point on. And as you'll discover, I didn't.
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