Fait Accompli

Fall of fifty-five. The last year of my formal education. It seemed like it would be a waste of time, since I knew everything there was to know already. The senior boys regaled each other with stories of fantastic dates they had where they overwhelmed their girlfriends with their skills in international lovemaking, French kissing, Roman hands and Russian fingers. Most of the senior girls thought they were out of our league as they had their sights set on “college men.” I was “going steady” with the girl who would become my wife. My “wild oats” had been tamed.
After a school dance, most of us went to a hamburger joint on Liberty road called Randy-Rock, so called because it was at the dividing line of two suburbs, Randallstown and Rockdale. There were no McDonalds, Burger Kings and Jack’s lid was still on his box. For the more adventurous teens, and those who thought they had a “cool” car, there was a drive-in restaurant on route 40 called the Varsity. You could slowly circumnavigate the whole place looking for chicks, showing off your hotrod or looking for a challenge to drag race. On route 40, beginning at the Varsity and heading west there was a steep decline in the road known as “hundred mile hill”, where insane drivers (me included) would try to see if, with the help of gravity, they could hit 100 mph.
The Milford Mill “class of ‘56” is having their 50th year reunion this fall. We were a pretty tame group of a little over 200 as I recall. We, at least I, had never heard of marijuana, heroin or cocaine. The “bad kids” would sometimes get there hands on some beer. I did hear that one of the boys was hooked on cough syrup, which made no sense to me since it was yucky stuff. Later, of course, the authorities decided that over-the–counter products should not have codeine. What does our government have against us wanting to feel good?
The highlight of the school year, aside from graduation, was the Senior Prom. This lavish event was held, not, as usual, in the gussied up gym, but in a DOWNTOWN Hotel ballroom. Man, were we hot stuff! The band was the much sought after “Rivers Chambers Orchestra”, a black band that had become a tradition with the Milford graduating classes. We were not disappointed.
Graduation was filled with tears of the memories of all the good times that would be no more and joy at the thoughts of the good life ahead. Most headed off to college while I was in paradise engaged (sort of) to my future wife and a job with Ma Bell paying almost $1 an hour.
How many of us snickered at our parents when they told us “These are the best years of your life?” Smart-asses.