Auld Lang Syne 1969
by Eva Pasco
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought
to mind? Not 1969…the year which closed the
lid on the Sixties without smothering its cultural revolution. 1969 rose to prominence
as the year I graduated high school during a time students were tracked as college prep,
business, or "generally lost." The caption beneath my photo inside the Conspectus '69 yearbook indicates my
ambition to become an English teacher...more on that later.
1969 was a pivotal year for Lincoln Senior High as its
curriculum offered an advanced class of Chem Study for a select bunch of six. We orbited around
electron configuration and atomic mass/ number This high wire act not only balanced
equations with the greatest of ease, but consorted with metalloids, alkalines, halogens, and other heavies
making up the Periodic Table of the Elements. Why, I may not be able to get a soufflé to rise, but to
this day can rattle off Avogardro's Number in
scientific notation. B is for Boron boring...
year Miss N organized a short holiday field trip for the National Honor Society to a
nursing home. Our own version of Bob Hope's entertaining the troops, we were to sing and
mingle with the seniors to boost morale. I made it through the fa la la's but after only one
"one on one," ducked around the corner to cry. Miss N admonished me not to let them see me crying because
they'd feel bad, and to get back out there, but I wouldn't
was the year I penned a Romance novella entitled Stoker.
Typed on a Smith-Corona electric, my literary work consisted of a cover pasted with magazine cutouts
and a sheath of orange paper held together by fasteners. Nevertheless, the librarian
made this shallow reservoir available for signing out. The enthusiasm in which this jalopy
copy was received by my peers stoked my ego.
Somewhere inside the conspectus of
1969 I organized a group of friends to audition for the Senior Variety Show. Such stiff
competition! No small wonder our karaoke skit to "Harper Valley PTA" didn't make the
Though I never considered myself a rabble rouser, I defied authority and
convention in my own quiet manner that senior year. As teachers urged their college bounds to
apply to at least three colleges, I applied to one --
Rhode Island College , accredited as one of the top
three teaching institutes in the country. Since I ranked 5 out of 200 in academic standing, I
developed a chip on my shoulder. As if that wasn't going out on a limb quite enough, one of my teachers
took me aside, telling me in no uncertain terms my college choice was not up to par with my
potential. She insisted I apply to Colgate. I
resisted and desisted.
graduation ceremony took place on a sunlit evening across the school's front lawn decked with
folding chairs. My best friend Elaine was valedictorian. The theme of
her convocation, "masks," counseled a future generation of 18 year olds to be true to
ourselves and stand firm in our beliefs.
Lest old friends be forgotten...Elaine attended the University of Rhode Island . I was accepted
Island College , and during the course of my studies, decided to pursue elementary
education. Four years later, and one sixth grade elementary position available
in Lincoln for hundreds of candidates to vie for, Elaine and I were the top
two contenders equally qualified. The straw to break the camel's back granting a decision in
my favor was my letter of application.
After turning my tassel at the conclusion of
the graduation ceremony, I never turned back once I walked off the grass, heading for greener pastures
of the future. Not one to revisit the past, I've never attended one of my high
school reunions. For auld lang
syne, I've preserved memories worth keeping. I assure you they are intact as
Click the book images to order
your copy of the
Signed copies of the Paperback, 40 % off suggested
retail, may be acquired at the Authors Den Signed Bookstore via Eva’s web page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco