Some More Clips..........

Some more of my old classmates and school chums will find themselves here in these treasured Year Book photos. I made a mistake last week, we actually had SIX Grade 10 classes, not five, as I quoted and they all had an average of 25 students. Now, those were big numbers for a single grade, but it was the 70's after all.

As I've often said, my high school years were the best! I don't know why exactly. I didn't have cool clothes, or a car to drive. I didn't have the best marks, but I tried. Except there was one teacher who, once he was frustrated enough and couldn't drive a certain point home, would level a look at you and say, "God, but you're stupid." Enough said.

But I did babysit a lot, and I was no different than teenagers today, I spent it all on clothes.

I will post a few year book pictures through out the next few Blogs, making no apologies for the poor quality. They are what they are!

And living out in Lower Rollo Bay, how was I to get clothes suitable for a teenager? I had no sense of style, I still don't, but in the 70's? Why, the Sears Catalogue, of course!!

Does anyone else out there remember this scenario........

Poring over the latest catalogue, big and thick, remember how they came every season? And little sales ones in between? Never mind the Wish Book, that came much later.

But there was a great selection of clothes in the latest fashions. We were in the midst of tie-dyeing T-shirts, which were a new concept in themselves. Knitted fabrics with stretch built in had just come on main stream and changed everything. We wore skin tight jeans, with a belt too, and it had to be a cool one. A T-shirt on top, with a vest over that, and a shortie jean jacket on top, if we were lucky. And how about those ponchos? Ring any bells? We were country before country was cool! Stacked shoes, the higher the better, for both guys and gals, how I loved them. Not as much as another piece of footwear that I had, but I digress.

But how to pay for the purchase? How to order? Why, from the form provided in the back of the catalogue! You carefully filled out your order, and added it up, including the taxes and shipping. Then you took it to the post office, bought a money order to enclose with the order, paid for the stamped envelope, and left it with the post master, (Dave Morrow in those days? Not sure) and waited patiently for a card to come in the mail to let you know your order was in. Then to pick a lunch day at school that you weren't involved in an AY meeting or basketball game, run down to the Post Office and pick up your precious parcel. And pray to all that's holy that your carefully chosen date-bait clothes would fit!! No worries for me if they didn't......turns out I was pretty good at alterations too.

Look like anyone we know?

Grade nine was a pivotal year for most of us, I guess. We made new friends and learned so many new skills. There was even Driver's Education, if you had a family with a car. Winter Carnival in the dark days of winter and Prom in the spring. In that year, a handsome young man who shall remain nameless asked me out, and I can still remember how terrified I was that Momma would find out before I could ask her permission, you had to handle her just right. She trusted no one. Well, somehow he must have passed inspection because she allowed it, and we dated all the rest of the year. He took me to my first Prom. I wore a dress borrowed from my cousin Debbie, and trust me, there were no sweeping up-dos, we wore our hair long and hanging down. No make up fiascos, nor manicures. Most boys brought a pretty corsage for his date and it made us feel so special. My, how primitive the Proms would seem by today's standards, but we were so earnest about it all. The home made decorations, always a "theme" i.e. The Yellow Brick Road, much argued and voted on, but always current. And looking back, how many young men and women writhed in untold agony at having to pretend to be someone they were not. They accepted a "date" with someone of the opposite sex to placate their parents, all the time feeling nothing but misery and isolation at the unfairness of it all, when all they wanted perhaps, was to dance with an entirely different date. The Prom, was, and perhaps still is, a coming out of sorts for a lot of people. A lot of those teenagers moved off Island after graduation and lived the lives they were meant to live, thank god. I hope we have moved past all that, and just give those kids the support they deserve and need.

I never lost complete contact with my mother. In my high school years, especially Grade nine, when everything was new and untried, Momma often phoned her to let her know what was going on. I remember in one spectacular phone call, I got roared at through the telephone lines "Just do what Momma tells you!" This was in response to Momma's judgement call on a date I had accepted, and she didn't approve. And of course with the gift of maturity and hindsight, Momma was right, but at 15, the world revolved around attempting to fit in to the social fabric of the day. Can you imagine the strength it took to talk to that boy in the hallways of SRHS and tell him no? It was embarassing and devastating. Different in many ways to socializing in 2022! Now it's heads down and press a few buttons.

What a great shot of an old chum!

I alluded earlier to a pair of footwear that I had in High School, and to my knowledge I was the only one in the student body to have them. I don't even know where I got them, and since most of the school did their shopping at George Roach's Army Surplus and wore a lot of combat boots, my blue suede desert boots put me in a class by myself. I am so mad at myself that even though as a teenager, I wore those boots literally out, that I didn't save them just for old times sake. I know I was still wearing them through my first years of working after graduation and even during my first pregnancy, they were just made for me. They were light as a feather with blue laces, and a cork sort of sole, and the suede was soft and supple and a beautiful shade of blue.

The fact that they had no lining, no warmth, and I might as well have been walking barefeet did not discourage me one bit. I understood my own kids in later years, as they would wear shorts or otherwise inappropriate clothing in cold weather. I got it. I wore those desert boots to the rink and stayed for hours watching a hockey game, never even thinking about how cold my feet were, I just didn't care. They made me fit in, and that was good enough for me.

It would be funny, if it wasn't so sad.

I needed winter boots and a proper winter coat, but as long as I didn't complain, I guess Momma just went along with it. It was easier not to think about that, when there was no wood to burn and the oil tank was almost empty.

Another neat shot. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Drop out rates were high in the 70's, you could quit school and get a good job back then. Nothing new about heading out West, many did and make a great living. I stuck it out, but my circumstances were different. My grandmother kept me home from school for a day or so almost every week, and it's hard to excel like that. I also knew she wouldn't support me in any way if I had wanted to go to university or college, so I just never thought about it. My mediocre marks got me my Grade 12, but that was it.

My friend Mary was one of those students who left school early and made a life in Ontario, I think, although she moved home years ago. I made a new friend from Fairfield in my Grade 10 year, she was a new student in Grade 9, but we clicked. We became fast friends and still are. Even if we haven't talked or seen each other in 10 years, it's like nothing, we just pick up where we left off. Patti knows where some of the bodies are buried.......

A lot of us remember this dear gentleman. Mr. MacIntosh.

Those were innocent times, by and large. I was protected from a life of alcohol and drug abuse, simply by being invisible. (Not really, to be honest I put in my four years at SRHS and never once even saw any dope, let alone use it. Momma simply would have killed me. Lots of people assure me it was rampant, but that wasn't my experience.) I remember one gal who sat ahead of me in class and she had one of those old fashioned wind up alarm clocks, and every once in a while she would take it out of her backpack, wind it, and set it on her desk. Nothing illegal about that, she just didn't wear a watch, she carried a clock around. The teacher just didn't have time for an argument. In hindsight of course, once you took the back off that clock, there wasn't much in the way of clockworks in it, I was told. It was full of reefers. That was her signal that she had a supply. Imagine the thrill of that, right under the teacher's nose. Literally. If it was true......

I had a small circle of friends and we just hung around the school. We attended the school dances every time we could, although it wasn't always easy to get a ride. And it was a long walk home. But it was magical! On Friday afternoons if a band had been booked, Mr. Fogarty would announce it on the PA system. As soon as we heard the words "Tequila" we knew we had to find a way there! Our favorite band!

The gym was transformed. Lights off of course, except for the stage lights and some strobes to help set us blind. The curtains would be drawn, the music was loud, and there were chairs set all around the perimeter of the gym floor. All us girls who were available, as in, no boyfriends, would sit on the chairs and giggle with our friends as all the boys who were available, as in, no girlfriends, would circle the gym like a pack of hungry hyenas. It was obviously a great set up for the underclassmen, since all the upper grades already had their steadies, and no cool person who deign to appear without another popular person in tow. It was a real hierarchy, popular kids at the top, all the rest of us sitting waiting for a prince charming to break from the pack and ask us to dance. That was enough fodder to keep us chatting between classes for weeks.

Then Monday at school, either that boy would talk to you and walk around the school with you, because let's face it, no one wants to make a mistake and be seen with the wrong person. Or, if the evening hadn't gone well, the boy would be no where to be found.

Cruel bastards.

Mr. Fogarty seemed so young for the job, but he was an excellent Principal.

A lot of girls didn't have their ears pierced, but I did. Imagine that! All kinds of body piercings are quite common today, as well as tattoos, for both sexes. But back then it seemed a big deal. I've told this story before, but in case no one was listening, my experience wasn't quite as sterile as today's piercings. My Uncle Everett had a girl friend at the time, who later became my Aunt Caroline and she had it in her head to pierce little Nova's ears. Well, number one to have this pretty, glamerous young woman notice me enough to even think of it, and then number two to volunteer to do it!! Well, at 13 years of age, I felt quite grown up.

The big day arrived. Caroline appeared. The tools? A darning needle and a bag of ice. The rest is quite simple. She held ice on my poor little earlobes til the flesh was hard and frozen. That would allow the needle to pierce the lobe, the freezing meant I didn't feel a thing and there was no bleeding. It was a snap to put the little gold sleepers in, and voila! And can you believe it, to this very day over 50 years later, I never had an infection. And I've always had that fond memory of Caroline. She was sweet.

That was one leg up that I had in school, my ears were already pierced. And of course, between friends we'd trade off earrings. Simpler times.

Well, would you look at that? Someone else I know and love sitting parked in this picture, probably wishing for a way out........