A Family Day Memory
I remember it as if it were just yesterday. There I was, a tow-headed young lad in Grade 11 at Riverside High.
As a member of the Dance Committee, that meant helping set up the gym for the annual Family Day Dance, putting up decorations and streamers and hanging up the lights and disco ball. It was a lot of work but we all pitched in because we knew what a swell dance it was going to be and we didn't want to let the rest of the kids down.
On Saturday afternoon we had finished and the gym looked great. We all congratualted ourselves that it had never looked that grand for a Family Day Dance. This was going to be the best one ever!
Satuday night I was full of anticipation as I walked to the dance. As I got there couples walked in holding hands, groups of girls came in all dressed in simple short black dresses and gangs of guys in white sports jackets followed them in with hungry eyes.
I stood there for a moment taking it all in, watching the snow-flakes softly fall under the parking lot lights and praying that all our hard work would be appreciated that night.
When I got to the front door, Debbie Hanson, the president of the Dance Committe was sitting at a table taking tickets from people coming in. At her elbow was Todd Maranic, Secretary of the Dance Committee.
"Hi Debbie. Hi Todd," I said. "Looks like a good turnout for the Family Day Dance."
And when Debbie replied, it was like being hit in the gut. "Sorry Sonny, but you can't come in."
My eyes welling up with tears, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But why?" I asked, my voice on the verge of choking up. "I'm a member of the Dance Committee. I've spent the whole week after school and then today helping decorate the gym."
"I'm sorry, Sonny - but it's Dance Committee policy," Todd said.
"I don't understand. I'm a student here and I'm ON the Dance Committee. I even bought a ticket."
And then Debbie piped up with those words I'll never forget as long as I live. "Think about it Sonny, it's a FAMILY Day Dance. And you're an orphan. You and your kind are not welcome here tonight. ... Besides, we don't like you."
"That's right," Todd chimed in. "Now beat it. Go home."
Go home. Nice thing to say to an orphan.
But I did. And all the way back to the orphanage I thought about why they really didn't want me there. It had nothing to do with being an orphan. Or the colour of my skin. Or my religion. Or sexual preference. It was because they were all jealous of me because I was smarter and better-looking than them.
When I got 'home' I didn't stay there. I went to the orphanage kitchen and got the biggest butcher-knife I could find and headed back to the school. I'd show those narrow-minded snobs. I'd fix them. I'd fix them good. I'd show them all.
And that's just what I did. As they were all inside, dancing away to 'Sha Na Na's Greatest Family Day Hits,' I made my way around the parking lot and slashed the tires of every car there. Every last one of them. ... The smug nuclear-family bastards.
As a member of the Dance Committee, that meant helping set up the gym for the annual Family Day Dance, putting up decorations and streamers and hanging up the lights and disco ball. It was a lot of work but we all pitched in because we knew what a swell dance it was going to be and we didn't want to let the rest of the kids down.
On Saturday afternoon we had finished and the gym looked great. We all congratualted ourselves that it had never looked that grand for a Family Day Dance. This was going to be the best one ever!
Satuday night I was full of anticipation as I walked to the dance. As I got there couples walked in holding hands, groups of girls came in all dressed in simple short black dresses and gangs of guys in white sports jackets followed them in with hungry eyes.
I stood there for a moment taking it all in, watching the snow-flakes softly fall under the parking lot lights and praying that all our hard work would be appreciated that night.
When I got to the front door, Debbie Hanson, the president of the Dance Committe was sitting at a table taking tickets from people coming in. At her elbow was Todd Maranic, Secretary of the Dance Committee.
"Hi Debbie. Hi Todd," I said. "Looks like a good turnout for the Family Day Dance."
And when Debbie replied, it was like being hit in the gut. "Sorry Sonny, but you can't come in."
My eyes welling up with tears, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But why?" I asked, my voice on the verge of choking up. "I'm a member of the Dance Committee. I've spent the whole week after school and then today helping decorate the gym."
"I'm sorry, Sonny - but it's Dance Committee policy," Todd said.
"I don't understand. I'm a student here and I'm ON the Dance Committee. I even bought a ticket."
And then Debbie piped up with those words I'll never forget as long as I live. "Think about it Sonny, it's a FAMILY Day Dance. And you're an orphan. You and your kind are not welcome here tonight. ... Besides, we don't like you."
"That's right," Todd chimed in. "Now beat it. Go home."
Go home. Nice thing to say to an orphan.
But I did. And all the way back to the orphanage I thought about why they really didn't want me there. It had nothing to do with being an orphan. Or the colour of my skin. Or my religion. Or sexual preference. It was because they were all jealous of me because I was smarter and better-looking than them.
When I got 'home' I didn't stay there. I went to the orphanage kitchen and got the biggest butcher-knife I could find and headed back to the school. I'd show those narrow-minded snobs. I'd fix them. I'd fix them good. I'd show them all.
And that's just what I did. As they were all inside, dancing away to 'Sha Na Na's Greatest Family Day Hits,' I made my way around the parking lot and slashed the tires of every car there. Every last one of them. ... The smug nuclear-family bastards.
posted by Sonny Drysdale at 9:37 AM
3 Comments:
Unter schwierigen Umständen zeigt man, was in einem steckt.
Getting into the Family Day spirits a bit early this year are we, Butch?
No, I've just been goose-stepping around the McLarty compound, checking the electrified fences and machine gun nests.
I hear that Honey Pot's been nosing around Delaware and environs.
It doesn't pay to let one's guard down for even a second out here in God's country.
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