Friday, October 27, 2006

Reading Hammer's Post...

here and then clicking on the link to Novak's post about clowns made me think of a girl I knew in high school. Her dad was a clown on one of the local TV stations. I had a crush on her since our sophmore year but she ran with the good crowd, and since I had given that up we didn't see much of one another. Until our senior year.

We were both on the school paper. I don't remember what she did, but I was the sports editor. Kind of odd for the new hippy to cover sports, but I needed the credits. I was dumb in high school. She was a perky, humorous person. Always laughing. I was the same, but more conscious of things I thought should be changed. I challenged the basketball coach one time for a story I was doing about his effort to integrate more sophomores into his lineup. I thought the varsity should only be for juniors and seniors. He flew off the handle, threw my notebook down the hall and demanded the lady that was in charge of the paper "fire" me. How in the hell does one get fired from a fucking high school class? She offered to yank the story, which they did. So I kinda coasted the rest of the year, not really giving a shit. But about three weeks before the school year ended "C's" best friend let it be known that "C" had a new boyfriend. I was shocked, since I didn't know she was dating anyone. As it turns out, it was my ass she'd set her sights on. Would have been nice if I'd known. She was skinnier than I was, but had a rack that probably made up for a 1/4 of her body weight. We spent the next three weeks together, studying, laughing and wondering about the future. I never saw her again after we graduated. Until I was at the Y one day working out after work and I spotted her doing some lat pulldowns. It had been almost 25 years, but she looked just the same. We both recognized each other, but neither had the gumption to approach. She had a kid in tow, and a young one at that. Figured it must be a second marriage mistake. I stood there for a minute, sitting on the fly machine, starring at her, wondering if I should go over and say hello. She kept glancing over, perhaps beckoning for some contact. I couldn't do it. She looked the same as she did in 25 years earlier. Except her boobs were even bigger. How does that happen? She grabbed the young child by the hand and walked away. I went to the locker room, gathered my shit and headed out to the car. She was about 20 feet ahead of me. I wanted to call out, but my voice remained silent. It always has. I regret that day. But I don't regret high school. Damn, I hated those years. If it hadn't been for the clown post I wouldn't have thought about it. Good riddance.

But if anyone in Charlotte reads this and knows someone whos Dad was a clown at WSOC, tell her to get in touch with me. That would be fun.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I understand what you're saying. I've seen girls I was crazy about 20 years later. I didn't have the gumption to talk to them. Heck what would be the point anyway.

Can't ever go back...

12:51 AM  
Blogger Jean said...

hmmm... reminds me of my "Don't Read This..." post. Hope you hear from her.

1:28 AM  
Blogger GalacticallyStupid said...

Sometimes ya can, Hammer. If you're lucky enough. And Jean, that ain't likely to happen.

10:52 AM  

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