A May Surprise

senior picture, 1962, Hiram High School

The last week or so, people on Facebook have been posting pictures of themselves as high school seniors--in a way it's supposed to be a sort of tribute to those current seniors who are not getting to enjoy the final weeks of their high school careers--or to have the sort of end-of-it-all celebrations that so many of the rest of us were fortunate to have.

I joined in the other day, posting the picture you see at the top of this post. I got some ... comments and questions--like why was I leaning? (I don't know--probably the photographer told me to--or I had something heavy in my blazer pocket.) Some were probably wondering where my teeth were. (I was self-conscious.)

A couple noticed the National Honor Society pin on my blazer--and I was wearing it, I'm sure, because I wanted people to be impressed. (Shows what a doofus I was.)

Last night, as we were about to turn off the lights, Joyce asked me about that pin--and I remembered the story.

It was May 11, 1961 (my junior year), and I was sitting in the classroom of Augustus H. Brunelle, who, that year, was teaching me both German I and English III.

He was the Real Thing, Mr. Brunelle. He'd been unable to finish his Ph.D. dissertation because of World War I but had taught at Hiram College before moving to the high school. A devoted teacher, a scholar--a great man. (It took me too many years to realize this. He passed away in 1978, when, more than ironically, I was an English teacher in Aurora--11 miles away from Hiram--and was on strike.)

Anyway, that 1961 day I was sitting in his classroom--which lay in the basement of the old Hiram High--and I was looking out an upper window into the parking lot. (So unlike me to be distracted!) And then I saw something completely surprising: my mom's car driving in.

Her car was unmistakable--a blue Ford Anglia, maybe the only one in Portage County at the time.

Was I in trouble? Or maybe something was going on with Dave, my younger brother in seventh grade?

Mom was a high school English teacher in nearby Garrettsville (3 miles away), and seeing her "out" in the late morning of a school day was very unusual, to say the least.

When the class ended, we all headed to the gym for the induction of new National Honor Society members. I had no thought that I would be among them. I was a decent student then (not great) and cared more about sports and school plays and girls than about anything else. NHS was for the scholars in our class, I assumed--and we had some great ones.

So I sat in the bleachers, glad that I was out of class, glad that lunch was so close, still wondering what Mom was doing there ...?

The assembly continued, and I heard them call my name.

You could not have surprised me more if you had told me that the Celtics had just drafted me. Or there was a call from Hollywood waiting for me in the Office.

In a daze I walked down to the chairs where the inductees were sitting. I have to say, I felt out of place, an alien, a wee terrier among wolves.

I think we each got a rose that day. That felt odd to me ...

But it was also one of the few times when I had a glimmer that maybe, you know--maybe--I had something more in me than being a mediocre athlete, a passable actor, a none-too-reliable boyfriend.

And I realized something else: This is why Mom is here!

It was.

I wish I could remember a single thing she said to me after that assembly, but I was so swollen with self-importance that my ears were blocked.

It took some more years for me to realize what an amazing mom I had. I wish I'd known then. I wish I'd been keeping a journal and had written down every syllable she uttered to me that morning.

I wish she were here right now, to tell me ...

the very pin I was wearing in that 1962 photo