"Let's Skip, it will be EPIC"

Today was a fabulous day.  Gorgeous.  Even if you love winter, today made you appreciate spring.  

I stopped for gas and because I'm old and have to pee every five miles, I went into the gas station and there they were...young boys...just out of school, top off the Jeep and they were gleeful.


One was on his phone (shocker) telling his buddy to meet them at the beach.  "Yep, bring your board.  Later."

And then he said it, "Let's skip school tomorrow, all of us, it will be epic."

As I stood there paying for my gas, waiting for the chip to transmit, my brain went to another place, another time, in slow motion.

We were three juniors and Mary Sue a senior..  We had "senioritis" when we were freshman.  So here was the plan:

1.  My mom was working the polls ALL day.  6a-7p.  Clear.
2.  Meet at the Clover Drive bus stop. Joan, Mary Sue and Stephanie  
3.  Walk to Kavolsick park and meet up with Barb S.
4.  Go to my house and gather drinks and food.  Make sure my personal phone was unplugged from the wall so the school could not call.  CRITICAL!
5.  Lay in sun from 9a-4pm.
6.  Girls go home and act like they were in school all day.

The purpose of this "skip" day was Joan and Mary Sue were in a wedding and needed sun.  "If you cannot tone it, tan it."  We needed sun.

And, equally as important, they were in charge of decorating the going away car with peach tissue flowers and we needed to sit in the sun and make about three hundred peach tissue paper flowers.

Perfect plan.  Perfect.  What could go wrong?

We got to my house and I ran upstairs and pulled the plug.  We were golden.

We started cooking some leftover spaghetti for a snack and planning our day.  It was THE fabulous day.  No humidity.  Perfect day.  We were going to have so much fun.

The windows were open and the breeze was blowing in when we heard the noise, not just any noise, THE noise.  The noise of my dad's tractor.  OMG, panic.  He was not supposed to be home all day.  And the noise was getting closer.  And so we did what four girls would do, we ran.  Upstairs.  Into closets.

What the hell was my dad doing home during the day.  Granted, it was only 7:45am but what was he doing?  

We were upstairs in the closet, losing it and then this happened....

My mammaw and my aunt showed up at our house.  Who knows why but they did.
We NEVER locked out doors and they just walked in to do who knows what.

And now, the work started.  Here we were, in my closet, losing it, I pee my pants and we have got to be quiet as mice because we were now surrounded by the two women who should have been FBI agents.

And they lingered.  And lingered.  And lingered.

We had to make a decision.  Do we stay or should we go now?  Do we risk getting caught or do we leave and salvage our plan?

And as we decided to leave, my mamaw and aunt left.  

Two down, one to go.  But my dad wasn't budging.

So we bolted.  Out the door and across the neighbor's yard and into the woods.

We met up and just looked at one another.  Now what?

No sun in the woods.

We had one option.  One.  

The dump.  Behind out development was a garbage/fill area.  We called it the dump.  Trash, brush, Playboy Magazines, a pond with tadpoles and frogs and stuff.  


The Dump was notorious for kids going down there without permission.  They went because there were Play Boy magazines.  Sex Ed with a pond with tadpoles.  Did it get better than this?



  No shade.  No chairs, no drinks, no bathrooms.  The Dump.  We were spending our day at the Dump .  Still a good plan.  We would get sun and get those damn flowers done for the wedding.  

And we did.

We sat, talked, laughed, peed behind trash, laughed, peeled layers of tissue and made flowers and laughed.  Did I mention that we laughed? 

But a funny thing happened that day, we got sun.  Tons of sun.  Blistering sun.  

And the peach flowers were done.

When I got home around four and locked in the mirror, the absolute horror hit me.  How was going to hide this sunburn?  I will just take a shower and go to be at 7pm so I won't see my mom and maybe it will fade by the time I get up.  Yep, that's it.

Except...my sunburn did not fade.  My mom, who very seldom got up with me during those years (so we both would start our days off well)  was up when I came downstairs.

I will never forget her asking "how did you get that sunburn?"

I lied.  "PE class, field hockey."


As I wrote this, I now realize my mom most likely knew.  And she spread the word.  Oh the power of the mom intuition and the mother network. 

It was EPIC and those tissue flowers, awesome. 

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Hearts, roses and ch...

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  Hearts, roses and ch...: Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  Hearts, roses and chocolate.  A day of love.   Today, after I got home from work, about the same time Wa...

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  Hearts, roses and chocolate.  A day of love.  

Today, after I got home from work, about the same time Walker got home from practice, he said these words, "Mom, please take my to get a Valentine for GOMM." (code for his girlfriend)

I knew we would be making this trip and I was actually excited that he asked me to go with him.  

Off we went.  He took a little guidance, made his own decision and we paid.

It was at the counter when I turned to him and said, "now we will go home and I will wrap it for you."

He made a face, holding his bag from the shop, stuffed with one sheet of wrapping paper, and said, "Nah, we are good."

Immediately, I turned and said, "No, we are not good.  No female is ever good with a shop bag with tissue paper.  It is about continued thought, extra work, the presentation and the thought behind it.  We will rewrap.  (Code for I will rewrap).

The lady behind the counter said, "Your mom is correct.  And never pay a person at a mall kiosk to wrap a present for a female.  Don't do it."

He conceded and said we could wrap it when we got home.  

I asked him when he was going to give the Valentine to GOMM and he said, "I got this."

When I was in the fifth grade, Kevin D. came up to me at recess and handed me a big box of Russell Stover candy with a card.

It was the beginning of a courtship that lasted almost a year.  This was a significant tenure for two fifth graders.  We played kickball at recess, he called occasionally on the kitchen phone, and had to get through the gate keeper (code for my dad) and we skated the couple skate on Saturdays.  We were a couple.

After the confection delivery, he passed me "notes" when we were in line to go to lunch.  Some were short in length and shallow in content and some long and deep in content.  I always wrote back and somehow the entire fifth grade class knew when we passed notes.

In April, he showed up at my front door and and gave me a card and perfume, the Lemon Perfume.  Not sure why all girls wanted to smell like a kitchen cleaner, but we did.

I remember my mom saying, "that was so nice of him.  It took courage to come here and deliver this in person."  

In seventh grade, long after the love affair with Kevin D, I made Don S and chocolate heart shaped cake and gave it to him at the bus stop.  It was there, in front of bus 114, that he accepted the cake and gave me my first kiss.  Right there, in the bus line.  Out in the open.  

Tonight while we walked into Candy Adventure, I wondered how different Walker's first love would be like without cell phones and social media?




I was not allowed to call boys.  When we passed notes, we scheduled a time so we could beat the parents to the phone and avoid the dreaded "may I ask who is calling?"

Always, my dad would yell, with his hand over the phone, only fingers were parted and it always went something like, "Stephanie, some BOY is on the phone, he says his name is Kyle, oh, I think Kevin, maybe Carl, anyway, Kevin, yep, sure it is Kevin, he wants to talk to you."

It was hell for everyone.  Scheduling the call time via the notes was key.  

Every single bf (code for boyfriend) I had, was a talker.  They loved to talk on the phone (cannot imagine why) and talk in general.  We talked.  We talked.  We didn't text, we talked.

Saturdays, girls lingered on the wall when they announced these famous words "the next skate is for couples only.  All other skaters, clear the floor, the next skate is for Couples Only, Couples Only."  And you would wait to be picked by a boy to skate.    And off we went, hand in hand, around the circle to Donny Osmond's, "and they called it puppy love."  (When I tell my kids this part of my life, they instantly go into CRINGE mood)

I don't remember talking much during those skates, I do remember those sweaty, dewy palms, and praying he didn't swing me to fast around the corner so I didn't skate out of control.  

We had dances and school and boys would walk up to someone and ask them.  No huge presentation, just a simple, "would you go to the dance with me?"  That was it.  Same with prom, a simple yes or no.  

The ask was personal and simple.  The response matched the ask.

I can remember when my parents broke down and got me my own phone, with a long cord, with my own number, for my room.  412-325-3466.  Still remember the number.  Similar to the home number, 412-327-1466.  My parents always went to bed early and we would talk for hours.  No texting, talking.  Talking.  Talking.

No emojis, hand drawn hearts or smiley faces.  

Back in the day, when Franklin and I were dating, if he saw my card in town, or I his, we always left a note on the windshield, a heart or a lipstick kiss on that windshield of his.  It made one another's day.  Not sure why we stopped doing this, maybe it was because we could send a text, a GIF or a picture.  

Franklin would draw on the mirror after he showered, a heart, a smiley face and off he would go to work.  And we would also talk for hours on the phone, on my porch on in the car.  No distractions, just the two of us and some music in the background.  No cell phones buzzing, no reason to check your phone if the conversation got tense, just the two of us.

Somewhere between here and there, cell phones and text messages replaced face to face conversations, lipstick messages on windshields and hearts on mirrors.

There will always be something extra special about a hand written love note, a hand written recipe or a greeting card with hand written note inside.  Nothing tops those three.  Especially when you are not expecting them. 

"I like you.  Do you like me?  Check yes or no."
"Do you like Steve?  He told Julie he likes you but he doesn't know if you like him.  Do you?
"I will call you at 7pm tonight.  Be ready."
"I need to ask you something today at lunch."

A few weeks ago, we were at a wrestling match and I noticed one of the wrestlers picked up a perfectly packed lunch box.  Seriously, this looked like a TARGET back to school commercial that showed the Rubbbermaid lunch system.  As the zipper flap fell back, I noticed a sticky note that simply said, "Good luck today.  Love, MOM"

How adorable?  Seriously, adorable.  Embarrassing maybe for the wrestler, but adorable for me.  

When I was in grade school, my mom routinely put a message on the napkin, not every day, but she wrote often.  Some would day, "Good Luck on your spelling test", "Wear your boots at recess, Love Mom" or even "WEAR YOUR HAT AT RECESS!" and sometimes "Love you".  Since those days in the basement of Delmont Elementary School, several folks have commented on my mom's lunches and the notes.  It wasn't what she said, it is just that she sent the notes.  

I wish I would have saved just one of those lunchbox napkin notes.

If social media, streaks, posts, emojis, snapchats and group texts didn't exist, would Valentine's Day be different for younger folks?  Would they be forced to reveal true feelings and not hide behind emojis or text messages?  Would tone and delivery speak louder than words?  Would the first "I love you" whispered into the phone mean more than any text message that said the same?   

I hope my son has conversations that are not interrupted with  notifications from cellular devices.  I hope he gives his Valentine undivided attention, always and is a true gentleman.
I hope he will chose courage and ask and invite in person and not via text.

I hope this Valentine's Day that anyone who is filled and gives loves, gets love in return, in the simplest, most genuine form.