Schooooool's out - for - summer...
Into the World
First weekend after I got home I went to my buddies' graduation from public school. I drove over to my buddy Scott's house with a heavy heart, sad that Dave wouldn't be with us. When I got to the house I was met by Scott's mother. She was a kindly woman who all the guys called "Mom". The type who always has fresh baked cookies just coming out of the oven when you got there. One other great thing about Scott's house: The Basement. More later.
We walked into the kitchen and she set me up with cookies and milk. Heaven. I asked where Scott was and she told me he had gone to the airport to pick up Dave.
"Pick up Dave? His casket?"
"What, dear?"
"Well, you know, are they burying him here?"
"Ed, what are you talking about? David isn't dead. It was his father who just passed away."
I was stunned. For the last week I had been dreading the somber mood Dave's passing would put on graduation weekend. And now he was alive! Mrs. Faugust and I chatted and tried to figure out how Diane had gotten the impression that Dave was the one who had died. Not long after, Scott walked in with Dave and I gave him the biggest hug any man could without requiring California voters to democratically deny him the right to do it. He was a little taken aback, until I explained the circumstances. Relief and sympathy followed and we all trooped down to The Basement to get drunk.
Madison High School's graduation ceremony was quite a bit different from the low key affair I'd just attended. I knew a lot of people from Madison and it was a little disorienting to be back in the real world again. The valedictorian that year was David Skibiak, a guy I had known since elementary school. He was absolutely hilarious. His best line came when he was encouraging us to go out and make our place in the world:
"Who knows, if you get into college, work hard and get your bachelor's in phys ed, you might some day be a high school principal!"
Classic. When the ceremony was over we started party-hopping. A field party of hundreds until the cops showed up, a quiet few beers with friends on a country road and then back to Scott's for several more. At some point I passed out, waking up bleary and far too early with Scott shaking me.
"Hey, Ed, we're going to Ocean City. C'mon, get up."
I hoisted my still-drunk corpse off the floor and dragged myself into the car. We picked up Scott's girlfriend, and as we passed the Post Office in Vienna I requested a quick stop so I could drop something off. I opened the door and rolfed prodigiously into the storm drain.
"OK. Let's go."
It took us the better part of four hours to get to the beach, during which I found the strength to sober up and get to the sand. After lying about for a bit I slouched down to the water to get refreshed. Another guy was just coming in and it took me a quick second before I recognized him. It was Jim Hisey, my ex-roomie from SMA. The weirdest thing: He had signed my yearbook just ten days before:
"Maybe I'll see you at Ocean City."
What were the odds? Seemed a little creepy that he just happened to be there on the same stretch of beach I was on the same day. I look over my shoulder from time to time and I swear he's still following me.
Get a Job
Through some obscure family connection I got a job working at a convenience store over in Vienna. It was called High's Market, sort of a precursor to 7-11. Which was funny because there was a 7-11 right across the street. We sold all the same stuff, only cheaper, but most of our customers were old folks.
I never understood how to properly price the canned goods based on the big inventory list they tossed at me. So I opened the box of, let's say, creamed corn, and think about what would be a fair price. Hmmm. How about 17 cents? Sounds good. So that's what I did. Everything was going just fine until this old coot came up to the cash register with a can of peas.
"You sure the price on this is right?"
"What does it say?"
"It says 9 cents."
"Then that's what it is."
"Son, I haven't paid 9 cents for a can of peas since I was your age!"
"Look, you want the peas or not? If it says 9 cents then it's 9 cents." Sheesh.
The best parts of working at High's:
1. Whenever I closed the store I would put a bottle of Thunderbird in the cooler about an hour before I left. Made for some smooth drinkin' on the ride back to Alexandria.
2. Stopping at Jack in the Box for a Breakfast Jack. They made those things so incredibly greasy back in the day. They used a regular hamburger bun and just tossed that Canadian bacon and egg with some gloppy cheese for a taste sensation fit for a king!
3. Mystery Theater Radio with E.G. Marshall. I would listen to the show on the way home, wiping the grease off my chin and sucking on a T-Bird. That was livin'.Moving On: The Flower is Plucked
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