Driving home from work this week has brought back so many memories.
I’ve noticed lots of kids dressed up for their graduation celebrations. They all look so proud and excited as their parents take photos of them on the front lawn.
Grade 8 for me was the most special graduation of all. I was now entering my high school years. What could possibly be more exciting?
My Mom chose my dress for me. She found it at an “end of the line” store in Toronto so we knew that no one else would have this dress. I wish I had a picture of it. It was white with thread thin pinstripes in a rainbow pattern going vertically down the fabric. The sleeves were puffy the body was straight and it had a beautiful ruffled skirt right at the bottom.
I chose to wear white stockings and little white heels with the dress but darn, I never did have the right julz to go with it! If my future self had only stepped in with some rainbow coloured julz I would have been all set.
One sunny evening in June of 1983 all of us kids piled into the gym with our parents and we proudly walked on stage and accepted our diplomas.
Once the graduation ceremonies were over, we kids cleared and stacked all of the chairs from the gym floor and the lights went dim. First dance was with Mom or Dad. Dad and I proudly danced to the first slow song and he did a couple of fancy twirls and my dress looked even better. I felt like a princess. The first dance was done, I kissed Mom, Dad and my brother Eric good bye and turned back to the dance floor with all of my friends.
Suddenly I heard my Dad’s booming voice, “Hey Moni, I like this song!”
With no time for me to refuse, my Dad was now twirling me at high speed, throwing me around and over his shoulder like a rag doll! We were all out doing some crazy 1950’s rock and roll dance! My embarrassment quickly subsided when I realized that the whole Grade 8 class had made a big circle around us and they were all clapping and cheering.
The song was “I’m still Standing” by Elton John and when I got home from the dance that night I was still standing. There was just one small wardrobe change. I had kicked off my shoes and I danced so hard that my white stockings no longer had feet. They were now rolled up to my knees.
I learned a lot that year in 1983 but my Dad was the one who taught me to be fearless on the dance floor!