Headin' For High School

I braved the heat and humidity and waded out into the afternoon traffic yesterday to attend Meagan's graduation ceremony. It was important to her, Ms J, so it was important to me. It was held at the community centre/hockey arena in Acton. Acton is a little town about ten minutes down the highway from her home in Norval.

The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 6:30. I arrived about 6:15 and the parking lot was full. I parked the car across the street and then returned to wait outside the building. There were, I suppose 150 grads, each with an entourage of parents, grandparents and step-parents. I stood on tip-toes and scanned the faces. No Meagan. No Kelly or Tim or Scott. No Dan. At 6:30, the crowd filed into the arena. The sign in the lobby said, "Grads to rink surface. Parents upstairs to spectator area."

I waited alone in the lobby for a while longer. Still no sign of Kelly. Or Meagan. I glanced at my watch. 6:45. This was typical of Kelly, Ms J. She has no sense of time. I've known her for more than twenty years. I've never known her to be punctual. I went up the stairs to the bleachers.

The spectator area was packed with people. There were no seats available. People stood shoulder to shoulder along the railing, everyone stretching and peering down, and hoping to catch a glimpse of their beloved grad. Frankly, Ms J, it was hot and stuffy in there, and the view was frustrating and disappointing.


I held the camera above my head to capture this shot. We were looking at the backs of their faraway heads.

I heard a familiar voice.

"Hi Dad!"

It was Dan.

"Hi son! Where's your sister? Did she come with you?"

"Yeah," he said. "She's down there somewhere."

"Where's Mum?"

His thumb shot past his ear.

"Still comin' up the stairs, I guess. It's freakin' hot in here, eh?"

In a moment, Kelly emerged from the stairwell. She didn't look too bad, actually. She was wearing make-up and her hair was nicely done. I noticed the tiny stud in her nose and decided again it was tacky and devoid of class, but of course, I said nothing. She was wearing a long black formal dress with a LOW cut front and spaghetti straps that looked as though they might break any second under the strain of those mammoth breasts. Trashy, Ms J. Inappropriate for a function like this.

She pulled her shoulders back and displayed herself, like a peacock, Ms J. Or a ...

"Hi Dale. Sorry we're late. Tim blah blah blah with Emily blah blah because our phone blah blah blah ..."

And so on. I smiled and pretended to care.

"What did you find for Meagan to wear?" I asked her.

"Well, I got this dress for her but she didn't want to wear it, eh? She didn't like her boobs showing this much. So I'm wearing it."

Oh Ms Journal. If only you could have seen that dress on my hex wife. It looked three sizes too small. And that chest ...!! My, my, my. It was just not attractive, Ms J. And I'm a boob man.

"I don't have the boobs anymore," she told me a few years ago, "but I still have the bags they came in."

Lord, Ms Journal. That was just way more than I needed to know.

"Yes, I see that. What did you finally get for Meagan, Kel"?

"Scott got her a black blazer and I borrowed a red top from a friend of mine. She's wearing that with the black denim capri pants she bought for herself with her birthday money."

"What about shoes?" I asked. "Did she get new shoes?"

Dan answered the question.

"No Dad. She said she wanted to wear her running shoes and Mum let her. When I graduated grade 8, I was TOLD what to wear. But Meagan has her own ideas about --"

"SSHHHHHH!" Kelly was saying. "Meagan is next. I want to hear them call her name."

We watched as a girl in a long, beautiful gown accepted her diploma and shook the hand of the principal. The girl's hair was curled and styled and piled high on her head. She wore high heeled shoes and nylon stockings. She looked like Cinderella at the ball. All the girls did. All except my Scout.

"MEAGAN P*****."

Meagan approached the podium, and received her diploma. Her rubber soled, black canvas sneakers made no sound as she returned to her seat. Her hair was long and straight. And dark purple. She turned toward us and raised her diploma in one hand and offered a proud thumbs up with the other.

And you know what, Ms J?

I really don't care what she wore to her grad. She was happy. And in the end, isn't happiness all we really want for our kids?


"I'm all done with childhood, Dad. I'm headin' for high school."

***