Tin Roof! ...Rusted!

Anybody remember these two kids?

This school year marks the 20^th anniversary of the day Pops and I met back at the Granite High School pool. I remember the day pretty well. It was first period of the first day of my sophomore year in high school (which is the first year of high school where I hail). I was all decked out for the occasion in a pair of olive green pleated shorts, a shapeless t-shirt, big white bow and poofy bangs. Coach Goffe sat us on the tile bleachers next to the pool and proceeded to pump up his swim team for the upcoming season in his drab, monotone, lovable way. I, of course, wasn’t really paying attention to him anyway. I was scoping out the scene. Not a huge swim team. I knew a few of the kids from the age group team I had been swimming with, my older brother included. There were only a few of us sophomores, and Pops, who was a hunk-of-hunk burning love 15 year old dreamboat, certainly caught my attention.

Over the next 3 years of high school, Pops and I both swam on the swim team (which was pretty much our life), worked as lifeguards and swim lesson instructors, and (because we couldn’t get enough of the pool scene) also swam on an age group team up near the university. All of the above activities we carpooled to either in the styling (gas hog) Dodge not-mini-van I drove or the sleek 1970 brown Nova (that once claimed half of my brown tresses when the seat belt retracted) that Pops drove.

My Young Women’s (youth group) leader was the first to call it. She was a regular early morning lap swimmer. She asked me, “What about that cute lifeguard I always see you chatting with? Why don’t you date him?” I can’t tell you how many hours Pops and I sat on the deck of the pool together just chatting as we “life guarded” the handful of lap swimmers. We were great friends, probably because no one else had any interest listening to Summer Sanders stories.

We never dated in high school, although it was kind of the elephant in the room. I remember on several occasions Pops driving me home from swim practice singing to his one and only CD the Violent Femmes. You know the song I am talking about, “American Music” and you know that line that goes, “I want a date to the prom, would you like to come along? Nobody go to the prom with me? Baby.” Ya. The only way to make it seem like we weren’t desperate and that we had absolutely no interest in going to the prom was to crank it up and sing it at the top of our lungs. No we never went to the prom. It is a good thing too; otherwise my Dad wouldn’t have had the fine opportunity of paying one of his co-worker’s sons to take me. Nice.

But we did hang out a lot together in the same group of friends. Some of my blog base will remember a certain concert we all went to about 17 years ago. I believe the B-52s were opening for the Violent Femmes. Great Concert. And a great occasion to “shake my honey buns”. I woke up the next morning to whip lash from all those fancy moves.

Are you still with me? You know how I love to tell a good long story… well for our 12^th Anniversary, Pops took me to a B-52s concert on the Cape! Nothing can hurl you back 20 years in time like “shaking your honey buns”. We all have packed on a few pounds in the last 20 years, but the concert was magic. All of you who couldn’t make it this time, enjoy the footage! We were thinking about you and all those good times! ...and if you listen closely you can hear us on back-up vocals. Just like being there yourselves. (my apologies for the quality of the video... I wanted to include a longer video, but I think I have found the file limit of blogger...and it may be a little shakey because I can't do my favorite dance move, "the spanker" without Pops (who was holding the camera))

It is fun to re-live those good old days, but even nicer to hop in the mini van (“it’s as big as a whale”) and head back to the “Love Shack”.