Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Yearbook: Diane

The year was 1982. We danced to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album and watched “E.T.” on the silver screen. John Belushi died and Prince William was born. We exercised  to Jane Fonda video tapes and never missed watching “Dynasty” on TV. Gas cost 91 cents a gallon and a stamp two dimes. We were spooked by the Tylenol scare and held our breath as the recession began.
It was a year of promise and pain, of sweetness and sorrow.

But it was OUR year. 

We were the Class of 1982, and we were ready to take on the world.   

Diane (Yearbook post)

To a funny, hilarious, and extremely rib-killing person. No matter where you are you bring a smile to everyone’s face. You also bring tears to their eyes!! I’ll never forget the time you told us about having to fart during your violin recital!  Diane



So for the rest of my life Diane is going to remember me as the-girl-who-had-to-fart-during-her-violin-recital.  Yeah, well, it did happen. I tried to cover it up by playing louder, but it didn’t matter. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my junior high life. Here I was playing the theme from Romeo and Julie, a piece I had practiced for months, and farted right in the middle of it. Thank gawd no one said a word. In fact, they acted like they never heard it, which I’m sure they did.

Diane played the tuba, and if you ever saw her 4-foot, 7-inch self carrying that brass beast you’d laugh. Picture Toto hauling the Tin Man. I remember how her parents tried to talk her into playing another instrument, something smaller, like a flute or clarinet, but she refused. Good thing, too, because the tuba took her far.

 She got a music scholarship and after earning her teaching degree replaced the band director at our high school. I heard Mr. Mummert was going to retire earlier but really wanted Diane to get the job and waited until she graduated to give her a chance. She did her student teaching under him and was really excited about teaching in the school that she graduated from.

Diane married a trumpet player. One of my good friends, Cookie, who attended their wedding told me it was music themed. A small tuba and trumpet topped the cake. Each table was named after a favorite song.  The place cards looked like concert tickets with the guests’ names on them and sheet music was scattered on the tables. Each guest also received a music notes keychain.

I quit the violin when I got to high school. There were so many other things I wanted to try. I still have it, though. Every once in awhile, I get it out. The A string is missing and the bow needs re-haired. My cake of rosin is worn down the middle from years of rubbing it up and down my bow.

I wish I would have stuck with it. Why is it that when we give up something it’s so hard to get it back. 

Other posts in this blog series


Coming on Tuesday: Peter who creeped me out!

No comments:

Post a Comment