I think I’ll go to my 50th high school reunion. I’m only about 35 years old inside of me. So…I’m a few years older on the outside, but….so what! I’m pretty sure everyone will recognize me. I’m still one of the tallest girls in our class. About 5’8”. The 3rd from the left in the back row of every class picture taken throughout our 12 years of school. I always looked like my chin was resting on the top of Barbara’s head. She was the girl in the row in front of me.
I’ve only shrunk 2” since then. One of my classmates and best friends is Joy, and she has shrunken 3 ½”. She was kind of short to begin with. I can now look down onto the top of her head. She has a big ole cowlick up there. As her hair has thinned, it’s more like a circle of sparse hair with a big bald spot in the center. I feel sorry for her. Don’t tell.
I have one, too. But I’m taller. Also, I know how to tease my hair over my cowlick and then spray the heck out of it with my volumizing spray. My mother had 4 girls. She didn’t have time to coddle us so we learned how to beautify ourselves. My friend’s parents hovered over her all 12 years of our primary education! Helicopter parents, I think they call them now. So Joy never had to do her own hair. My hair stays over my cowlick just fine. The only time I have trouble is in a stiff wind. I may end up where I didn’t intend to go.
I’ve never ridden in a helicopter. I’ve always wondered how short a person has to be to avoid getting their heads cut off in those whirling blades. I’ve also wondered why they even have the engines running and the blades whirling? Why don’t they wait ‘till they have the ‘copter loaded? I wonder about a lot of things. Especially now days. Being a child of the ‘50’s is a special treat but we don’t know quite everything.
I know someone who flew in a helicopter. My husband, Jack, who is now deceased, was 8 years old when he was beaten up by his next door neighbor, Johnny. Johnny, the bully. Every neighborhood has one or two. So, Jack ran home crying to his mother. The only problem was, his dad was home, too. (Let’s just say in those days, kids weren’t taken into a room with a miniature pony to play with to sooth their little psyches.) So his dad told Jack that if Jack would go back to Johnny’s and sock him a good one….his dad would take Jack to the airfield for a helicopter ride. Jack went next door, knocked on the door, Johnny’s mom let him in, and Jack went over to Johnny, who was watching TV, and gave him an impressive black eye, then ran home really fast. Jack got his helicopter ride. Trouble in the neighborhood.
Did you notice how old people can fit 6 or 7 topics into one conversation…just about without taking a breath. Old people can. Especially women. It’s like a smorgasbord.
Now, about the reunion. I’ve run out of time. I’ll have to tell you later. My son-in-law, who knows everything (he’s from Kentucky) saw a couple of bore holes in my new fence. I’m told I have to spray insect spray into the holes, let it dry, then fill them in with wood filler. I can do that! Those bees must be huge because the holes are nothing to sneeze at. Which reminds me, I pulled into the garage last night and a black spider the size of my fist ran across the garage floor. I let him run. But I’m going to have to try to find him eventually. I’ll put it off until tomorrow. (See, I told you we could put a bunch of topics into one conversation!)