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.
Julie (Yearbook post/1982)
Gina,
To a cool girl who always seems to be there just in case someone needs her. You are a very super person. You have never made me feel dumb and you never seem to mind that I’m not exactly a “scholar” – you talk and laugh and are friends with me anyway. We’ll have to do something together sometime. I wish you much happiness and lots of luck in whatever you do. You have a lot going for you – you are just a swell person!!! I hope we never lose touch! Have a nice summer!!
Always, Julie
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2/16/12
The thing I remember about Julie is her skin. She had the most beautiful skin, especially to a teenager who battled acne with a cabinet full of crap that left my skin dry and red and flaky – not smooth like hers. She had an easy smile, like a morning glory’s petals unfurling when they are kissed by a new day.
We first met in junior high social studies class. Even then she was a beauty. And it’s her beauty that attracted the guys, although they never seemed to hang around for long.
One time in high school, I found her crying in the bathroom. Her mascara ran down her pink cheeks and her hair was a tangled mess of black.
“Julie, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything,” she said. “My life sucks. I’m tired of being used.”
