Memories J. M. Strother I have no idea where I was or what I was doing on Prom Night. No recollection at all. It just was not important to me. It's not that I would not have liked to go to the Prom, or that there were no girls that I was interested in. It was just that I knew that no girls were interested in me, and that there would be no point in asking any of them out. It was not that I was ugly, or the class goat. It was more like I just did not really exist. It was not anything mean, I was not ostracized. I had friends. Even friends that were girls. But never in a million years would it occur to any of them that I would want to go out with them. Or so I assumed. A shrink would probably tell me that I had an inferiority complex or that I was overly shy. They have to tell you something, or they would not make any money. There's probably a fancy psychological term for overly shy, and they would use that term instead, so they could charge more. Any half wit could tell I was overly shy. Who would pay for that diagnosis? Give me a break. But I did not let this bother me. I did not mope about on Prom night, wishing I was there. Imagining that I was dancing with Nancy Murphy or Angie Howser. I honestly could not tell you what I was doing that night, because it truly did not matter to me. I knew long before my Senior year that I would not be going to the Prom, so I completely ignored the event. It may as well never have taken place. In all likelihood I was out with my best friend Murry drinking Ripple Pagan Pink or Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill down in the creek. You see, Murry was just a Junior, so he was probably around. I bring this up now because we just had our 30 year high school reunion. It's hard to believe its been 30 years, but time flies when you're having fun. I must say, I was looking forward to going to the reunion. I had some good friends in high school and was looking forward to catching up with some of them. I sent in my money for two tickets, planning to take my wife, and dutifully submitted my bio via the handy web form. But fate intervened a family crisis came up and I had to miss it after all. I seem to have a knack for missing these sorts of things. I had planned to go to the 10 year reunion too, now 20 long years ago. Like this time, I had sent in the reservations for my wife and me. But, not unlike the Prom, the night came and went without me giving it another thought. I believe my wife and I spent the evening gardening, and not until the next day did we realize that we had missed the event completely. But we did have a lovely evening in the garden. But at least this time I did not come away empty handed. Since I had sent in my reservation, I got a copy of the Reunion Memory Book. I never got the 10 Year book, so I was very happy to get this one. When it arrived I sat in the living room and read through it, a smile playing across my lips, like a sentimental old fool. The Then and Now segment compared and contrasted two worlds separated by 30 years. The Struley Department Store was now the site of the Planter's Credit Union; gasoline was 29.9 at Cecils's Garage (that's 29 point 9 cents per gallon!), and now goes for $1.49, and Cecil's is now a florist's shop; and people actually wore thongs on their feet! I read the bios with keen interest. Triumphs and tragedies. Great adventures and mundane lives. Marriages, divorces, late life pregnancies, early deaths. People I knew and liked gone too soon. One particular name caught my eye; Mary Anne Rockman (Jones) deceased. I caught my breath. Oh God. Mary Anne Rockman had died. I could not believe it. She was the sweetest person anyone could ever hope to meet. She had been very popular in High School, hung out with the in crowd, and yet never failed to talk to me in friendly conversation as chance allowed. She knew me by name, which was something considering the size of my high school. She was just that kind of person. Feeling somewhat morose, I wandered up to the library and dug out my old High School Year Book and began flipping through the pages, matching up the picture in the Year Book with the bio's in the Memory Book. I paused sadly whenever I came to someone that was listed as deceased and wondered at the cause. Joseph Avery, Cecilia Beebe (Newberry), John Broyles, Lucy Burke, Cheryl Conrad (Arnett), Larry Fox, Carl Green, Scott Hartman, Kevin Laurich, Geneva Genny Laws (Jackson), James Resnick, Steven Rathmann, Mary Anne Rockman (Jones), and Ronald Vanmatre. So many, so young. Why? How? No answers. Just one line in the Memory Book per name. Deceased. I closed the Memory Book and set it aside. I flipped through the Year Book, and looked again at the smiling faces of those that were gone and wondered again How? Why? I paused at one of the two signatures in my yearbook. Above the signature it read simply, Good luck, Jon! She had even spelled the name right. [Author's note: The events and persons in this work are fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]

Nothing like another lump of depression before going to sleep... I hope your next write is an "upper."

It will be.

post it quick, please !!!

Nicely done, Jon. Guess you didn't need the tape recorder afterall.