School's Out

ONE OF THE THINGS I MISS MOST about being a schoolboy is getting out of school for the summer.

dragging main somewhere

To quote Mr. Alice Cooper (“Is he still alive?” you might be asking. Yes, yes he is. In fact you can catch him in concert August 19 in Oklahoma City.):

No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher’s dirty looks

Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not go back at all

School’s out forever
School’s out for summer
School’s out with fever
School’s out completely

The summer of 1969 was a long time ago, but still I remember the end of my senior year. I remember prom, baccalaureate, graduation and the summer. I remember feeling like the king of the world in a Donald Trump sort of arrogant way. I remember getting out of high school as having a certain finality to it, even though I would be starting college classes in the fall.

I’m a firm believer in the idea of the rhythms of life. Maybe it comes from marching miles and miles of parade routes playing in a drumline. The drumline plays what is called a cadence. It serves as the clock that keeps the band marching with order and as a unit. Without a cadence there would be chaos.

So it’s been a few decades now since I last walked out of a classroom for the summer. But still I seem to hear a distant drum signaling a change in the air. Just to restore the rhythm, maybe I’ll take a vacation day next Monday and sleep in. I won’t worry about homework or grades. I won’t diagram any sentences or dissect any frogs. I certainly won’t be wearing shoes or tucking in my shirttail. And I’ll chew gum anywhere and any time I want to.

In a few days, me and my Amazing-Missus will be going to a Beach Boys concert. Maybe they’ll do their happy little school’s out song, Dance Dance Dance:

After six hours of school I’ve had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way

I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat’s really hot) right on the spot
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beat’s really hot

When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my chick by my side the radio does the trick

I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat’s really hot)

No question, if there is a soundtrack for summer fun it would be written by the Beach Boys. Maybe after the concert we’ll go out for a milkshake, maybe we’ll drag a Main street somewhere, maybe we’ll even go parking, and maybe we’ll stay out past midnight—probably not, but we could if we wanted to; because school’s out for summer.

Date Night: Then & Now

I write often here at About POPS about what I call our "second coming-of-age." The first being that arbitrary passage from youth to "maturity" and the second, the passage to some other older version of maturity. As I look forward to a "Date Night" tonight with My Amazing-Missus, I thought about the comparisons between a date night during my first coming-of-age and now.

In both cases, you want a full sensory experience: sights, smells, sounds, tastes and touch.

While we both look a bit different than we did back in the courting day, we've aged together, and as far as I know she's okay with that, but still I'll make the effort: you know, shave, iron my shirt, stuff like that.

One of the things I fear most about becoming a "man of a certain age" is picking up that essence of old guy and not even being aware of it. So, again I'll make the effort. Unlike the good old days, I won't be splashing on the English Leather with an extra spritz behind each ear just in case a slow song comes on and a dance breaks out, but again I'll make a good effort.

The sounds for a perfect date night are still key. Back then I would have been picking her up in my VW Bus (I still can't believe her Dad ever let her go out with me). Having just the right song cued up on the 8-Track player was essential. Something like "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys would be a good choice:

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn't have to wait so long
And wouldn't it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong

You know its gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we've been spending
I wish that every kiss was never-ending
Wouldn't it be nice

Okay, now I've actually embarrassed myself.

Tonight I might Bluetooth® sync my iPhone® and have this oldie-but-goody by The Beatles ready to go:

When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?

If I'd been out 'til quarter to three, would you lock the door?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

Date Night tastes once included stuff like a Shakey's Pizza followed by an ice cream float at Weber's Root Beer Stand. Tonight? Well since I'm less than two weeks out from gall bladder surgery, I'll probably go with a piece of grilled chicken and dry baked potato. Maybe we'll splurge and go for fro-yo after. What a romantic? Right?

Oh, and the Date Night touches? Now, that's really none of your business is it?

Go have your own date night.