The year was 1981 and I was in 7th Grade at Immanuel Lutheran School. Our Church was throwing their inaugural Dinner Cabaret, a fund raiser that included dinner (roast beef, green beans with almonds, boiled potatoes, always) and a show.
The show was a variety show comprised by different acts performed by church members. The principal of Immanuel Lutheran School (ahem, my father) dressed up as a girl and sang, "I'm Jest A Girl Who Cain't Say No" while sitting on the lap of the Assistant Pastor. There were dance numbers, and a "Who's On First" number, and many different kinds of vocal stylings. The Youth Group, of which I was a member, decided to perform "I Made It Through The Rain" with a twist. The girls stood around the piano and sang while the boys did a dance number with umbrellas. It was cute and funny.
The rehearsals took place in the school gym, where incidentally the Cabaret would also take place. I was one of the few 7th grade girls singing, while a few of the 7th grade boys were dancing, but the bulk of the performers were the (scary) 8th graders who were all cooler than me. I was very nervous being around them, feeling awkward, dorky and horrible - which is pretty much how I felt all through grade school, but if you saw me then, you'd understand.
I need to digress a moment and talk about Flair Optical. Flair Optical was owned by my grandparents and located in Hollywood, Florida. My grandfather was an optician and my grandmother, well, Grandma Rootbeer put the FLAIR in Flair Optical. Considering their target market, the fashionable frames were skewed toward South Florida Retirees. Now, my parents were divorced, my mother a single Mom with a limited income. Grandma Rootbeer hooked us up...all I had to do was take my pathetic myopic eyes to a local optician who would measure my pupil distance and the bridge of my nose and we'd send these measurements and my prescription down to Grandma and Grandpa. A week or so later, voila, free glasses. But keep in mind, I am a 12 year old goofball wearing South Florida Retiree glasses.
Wait, look:
Here are my brother, cousins and I sporting Flair Optical glasses. This photo, incidentally, was a huge hit at Flair Optical.
However, a very socially conscious, boy crazy, painfully self-aware 12 year old did not find the very large glasses a big hit. However, they were free, and I wore them and while they may have caused me emotional pain, I had no other options. I believe they were very similar to the ones my ginger cousin in the middle are wearing in the photo.
So, there I was in the school gym on a rehearsal night, trying not to do anything totally uncool that would cause me to suffer open ridicule.
I was goofing around on the opposite side of the gym in the dark while the rest of the act was working their dance steps or gossiping around the piano when suddenly the director called for our act to start.
Panicking, I took off into a full-on run for the stage. I was in an enormous empty gymnasium. Completely empty except for one lone basketball lying off center on the floor. I hit that basketball at full speed and caught some air. In my mind's eye, I see this as a spectator, not as the actual jackass who is airborne. I'm helpless to stop the forward momentum and hit the ground chest first, my arms out to the sides almost as if I'm doing a swan dive. Mr. Holmes, the school custodian, always waxed the gym floor until it was hard and shiny like ice. On my stomach, arms spread, I slid about 12 feet, but the impact had jarred me and my huge glasses hung diagonally across my face, one arm still hooked behind my ear, the other dangling down by my jaw.
From what I hear, this was quite a sight. From the laughter that met me when I skidded to a stop a few feet away from the piano, I imagine it was. My friend Cecil still can't tell that story without laughing so hard she can't breathe. Well, I HAVE A STORY ABOUT HER, TOO, so...yeah.
I love me some Barry Manilow, and this song is a fine song, not my favorite of his, but this song will always remind me of that first Cabaret, being involved in youth group and all the joy and pain that brought into my life. This song reminds me of the smell of the Immanuel Lutheran School gym, those putty colored mats that hung from the cinder block walls. That particular funk in the girls' locker room -- old water and Comet. This song reminds me of roast beef and the dumbwaiter in the kitchen at Immanuel Lutheran School, and the boys we sent down the dumbwaiter. This song reminds me of that coterie of scary 8th grade girls and how they'd bring their curling irons to school to get their hair to flip JUST SO. This song reminds me of my friend Jimmy, who was the only guy to get the dance moves right away and the only one that didn't look miserable doing the dance. This song reminds me that I, too, made it through the rain of supreme dorkitude, and that though I didn't know it that humiliating night, I would soon find the others who got rained on too, and made it through.
Incidentally, you couldn't pay me enough money to go back to 7th grade, they don't print enough.
The show was a variety show comprised by different acts performed by church members. The principal of Immanuel Lutheran School (ahem, my father) dressed up as a girl and sang, "I'm Jest A Girl Who Cain't Say No" while sitting on the lap of the Assistant Pastor. There were dance numbers, and a "Who's On First" number, and many different kinds of vocal stylings. The Youth Group, of which I was a member, decided to perform "I Made It Through The Rain" with a twist. The girls stood around the piano and sang while the boys did a dance number with umbrellas. It was cute and funny.
The rehearsals took place in the school gym, where incidentally the Cabaret would also take place. I was one of the few 7th grade girls singing, while a few of the 7th grade boys were dancing, but the bulk of the performers were the (scary) 8th graders who were all cooler than me. I was very nervous being around them, feeling awkward, dorky and horrible - which is pretty much how I felt all through grade school, but if you saw me then, you'd understand.
I need to digress a moment and talk about Flair Optical. Flair Optical was owned by my grandparents and located in Hollywood, Florida. My grandfather was an optician and my grandmother, well, Grandma Rootbeer put the FLAIR in Flair Optical. Considering their target market, the fashionable frames were skewed toward South Florida Retirees. Now, my parents were divorced, my mother a single Mom with a limited income. Grandma Rootbeer hooked us up...all I had to do was take my pathetic myopic eyes to a local optician who would measure my pupil distance and the bridge of my nose and we'd send these measurements and my prescription down to Grandma and Grandpa. A week or so later, voila, free glasses. But keep in mind, I am a 12 year old goofball wearing South Florida Retiree glasses.
Wait, look:
However, a very socially conscious, boy crazy, painfully self-aware 12 year old did not find the very large glasses a big hit. However, they were free, and I wore them and while they may have caused me emotional pain, I had no other options. I believe they were very similar to the ones my ginger cousin in the middle are wearing in the photo.
So, there I was in the school gym on a rehearsal night, trying not to do anything totally uncool that would cause me to suffer open ridicule.
I was goofing around on the opposite side of the gym in the dark while the rest of the act was working their dance steps or gossiping around the piano when suddenly the director called for our act to start.
Panicking, I took off into a full-on run for the stage. I was in an enormous empty gymnasium. Completely empty except for one lone basketball lying off center on the floor. I hit that basketball at full speed and caught some air. In my mind's eye, I see this as a spectator, not as the actual jackass who is airborne. I'm helpless to stop the forward momentum and hit the ground chest first, my arms out to the sides almost as if I'm doing a swan dive. Mr. Holmes, the school custodian, always waxed the gym floor until it was hard and shiny like ice. On my stomach, arms spread, I slid about 12 feet, but the impact had jarred me and my huge glasses hung diagonally across my face, one arm still hooked behind my ear, the other dangling down by my jaw.
From what I hear, this was quite a sight. From the laughter that met me when I skidded to a stop a few feet away from the piano, I imagine it was. My friend Cecil still can't tell that story without laughing so hard she can't breathe. Well, I HAVE A STORY ABOUT HER, TOO, so...yeah.
I love me some Barry Manilow, and this song is a fine song, not my favorite of his, but this song will always remind me of that first Cabaret, being involved in youth group and all the joy and pain that brought into my life. This song reminds me of the smell of the Immanuel Lutheran School gym, those putty colored mats that hung from the cinder block walls. That particular funk in the girls' locker room -- old water and Comet. This song reminds me of roast beef and the dumbwaiter in the kitchen at Immanuel Lutheran School, and the boys we sent down the dumbwaiter. This song reminds me of that coterie of scary 8th grade girls and how they'd bring their curling irons to school to get their hair to flip JUST SO. This song reminds me of my friend Jimmy, who was the only guy to get the dance moves right away and the only one that didn't look miserable doing the dance. This song reminds me that I, too, made it through the rain of supreme dorkitude, and that though I didn't know it that humiliating night, I would soon find the others who got rained on too, and made it through.
Incidentally, you couldn't pay me enough money to go back to 7th grade, they don't print enough.
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