During a garage cleaning project this weekend, I ran into a box of old journals. Here is an entry I found (warning - in purple prose) that I wrote on June 8, 1984, the day after I graduated from high school:
"My last day at North Muskegon High School - wow. There are a variety of feelings - joy, sorrow, anticipation, and an overwhelming sense of finality - no one feeling can describe it.
The class of 1984 assembled in the high school library, which was ironic because we weren't known as an academic class. We were more concerned with the finer things in life - like N.A.P.A. (the Non Athletic Partying Association), the S.C.C. (Senior Clepto Club), and Heineken. Walking through the big library doors into the bustle of my classmates made me realize something - "All right, Eric", I said to myself, "this is it."
The group gathered inside the library was a collage of blue and gold gowns. All the girls were primping in mirrors, making sure thier graduation hat was parallel to the floor. The guys were busy combing their hair, knowing full well that when they put their caps on they would mess up their "do" all over again. Everybody was getting their flowers - long stemmed yellow roses for the girls, white carnations for the guys. A call came out for the band members to report the gym because they had to play a couple of numbers to please the gathering crowd. I heard a classmate say as she walked out "Wow - this is it."
In a matter of moments the rest of the class was lined up outside the gymnasium. The band started up with Pomp and Circumstance. My heart was really pounding now. My freind Chris and I were the fourth couple to walk out. All of the graduation rehersals seemed to have had a purpose now, but our advisor, Mrs. Tyler, was still telling us when to enter the gym. "Wait until the couple ahead of you has taken 8 steps, then go." Thanks, Dot, for that kind reminder.
As I entered the gym, I looked out over my shoulder and glanced at the huge portrait of the North Muskegon Norseman and realized that wehn I walked out of the gym I'd be an alumni. Chris and I then started to laugh, realizing we were walking out of step. This was no great surprise to either of us, for I am a full foot taller than she is.
After we had taken our seats, I really didn't listen to the ceremony. I knew we were a good class, and the we brought a lot of spirit to the school, and that the faculty was going to miss the class of '84. I had to concentrate on the speech I had to give. My classmates elected me, along with two others, to give a speech at graduation. I had spent the last month writing and memorizing it. I was scared, but I had a confidence that I would not screw up.
I sat through the two speeches before mine, ones which I knew almost as well as my own because of all of the rehearsals. Chris was the one who spoke before me, and at the end of her speech she said:
"Our next speaker, Mr. Eric Vernon Rewitzer, will be attending the James Madison College at Michigan State University this fall to study social science. May I introduce to you Mr. Eric Vernon Rewitzer."
As I walked up to the stage, I chuckled for I knew Chris messed up on the introduction. She wasnt' supposed to to say my name twice.
When I was standing at the podium, I stared into the crowd. Some were still applauding, others taking pictures, everyone was smiling. Every man in sight had a suit on, and every woman had a dress on. All so conservative. I looked for my mom but couldn't find her.
"Good evening" I said, and I was on my way. The speech went perfect, drawing laughs and tears. I was damned proud of myself. When I was finished and walking back to my seat, I realized I was crying. It felt so strange, yet it was the most natural thing to be doing at the time, as I noticed alot of my friends were crying, too.
Our class decided to have our class president give us our diplomas instead of the superintendent. The ceremony began with our class song, David Bowie's "Changes", playing over the P.A. system. As I walked up to get my diploma, I saw that Mark, our class president, was crying, too. Now this was something, for Mark was one of the most passive people I know.
When everybody received their diplomas and sat down, Dr. Clark, the principal, gave us the cue to stand up. As he pronounced us the graduated class of 1984, we all turned our tassles, and a few hats went flying despite the many prior warnings of the faculty.
It was over. The sense of finality had hit. As we walked out of the gym, Chris and I both looked at each other, eyes red, and then hugged each other like we didn't want to leave. Everybody was embracing everybody, showing for the last time how much we liked each other.
Sorrow, joy, anticipation, and an overwhelming sense of finality. These feelings, not neccessarily in that order, decribe the night I graduated from high school, June 7, 1984."
High school was good to me, I have to say. I left home that fall and never really looked back - until now. Fun to find this kind of thing after all of these years. Good times.
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