Her date showed up-on time-(he gets points for that)-in an all white tux with matching purple tie and vest. Oh, and white shiny shoes. He gave Paige a hug and told her she looked really nice (more points) and said hello to us and shook Cliff's hand and called him "sir" (even more points). However, he lost most of his "imaginary" points for not opening the car door and helping her into the car. Poor kid, I think we had him so nervous that he couldn't think straight...we have that effect on people.
After all the token prom pictures at the house and then at one of her friend's house, it was off to the Masonic Village and to the rose gardens for the official picture-taking of the high schoolers in all their regalia. Their parents and family members were present to act as unofficial paparazzi for the event.
Looking down at all the festivities, were residents of the Masonic Village, who look forward every year to the grand display of formality and the gathering of so many young people. It connects them back to the time when they were young and had their whole lives ahead of them. Now, they gather together, their youth gone, but not their memories, to take in the beauty and splendor of this time-honored rite of passage.
After seventy million pictures of Paige and her various friends, Cliff and I got the hint from her that our presence was no longer needed so we could stop following her around. So we made our way through the maze of kids and up the garden stairway where I tripped and fell forwards, landing on my hands and stubbing my right big toe in front of a bunch of kids and their parents. Usually, when I do something graceful like this, Cliff bursts out laughing and then runs as far away from me as possible. However, because I recovered so quickly, he didn't have time to bolt.
With half of my right big toe nail gone and throbbing, we made our way to the cultural center where the ballroom was set up for the prom. Let's pause for a minute. When did "the prom" become just "prom"? I missed the passing of this very important legislation that formally changed the name. Probably someone got offended by the word "the", so they had to remove it from the title to avoid a lawsuit. Maybe it was just a typo, I don't know.
Any way, Cliff and I found his aunt Doris, sitting with two other ladies, waiting for the promenade (pun intended) of prom couples marching in two by two like the animals on Noah's ark. More older people were positioned inside, waiting to view the prom fashions of the evening, before retiring to their apartments for "The Lawrence Welk Show" at 7pm.
I had my eye out for girls who had bought their dresses from the bridal shop so I could report back to the owners on how gorgeous the girls looked in the couture dresses from the shop. Watching these kids as they shuffled along in front of us, I couldn't help but make some observations of the differences as well as the similarities of proms gone by to this prom of tonight.
The first thing that struck me is that no matter how well the guys wash up and look all charming in their tuxes, they still look like little boys in grown-up suits. And yet, for some crazy reason, there is always that one kid who looks like he's thirty five. He usually has a lot of facial hair. He's the guy that you'll see at your 10th-year high school reunion that will still look like he's thirty five.
The girls all looked amazing in their colorful body-hugging dresses, and spray tans. You go girls, I thought to myself. Those plunging necklines, open backs, and skin tight slinky gowns would never have gone beyond the front door of my house and the king of it, James L. Rossetto, my father. "Why are you wearing a slip to the prom?", he would have asked in amazement. "Better go put your dress on, or you'll be late." "But dad, this IS my dress!" He would have just stared at me until I went and put on a cardigan or bathrobe over it.
So, more power to you girls; enjoy your youthfulness and liberating fashion while you can.
My biggest prayer for all of the kids there was that they would forget about the labels they carry within the walls of high school. I wished that they would just enjoy the night, being with their friends, and making memories that they could cherish for years to come. I wished that they all would realize that tonight is a magical night where everyone is a king or queen in their own right (aw...touching right?).
After the parade of couples had gone by, I realized that prom had changed--perhaps progressed--since my "Pretty in Pink", Molly Ringwald and Duckie prom of 1986. Instead of OMD (Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark), the expression "OMG" came to mind. For example, I saw a prom couple who brought their child, dressed in his own tux, for pictures. I think I saw my first same-sex couple(if you know what I mean). I saw guys with earrings and skinny jeans and girls with tattoos.
Unfortunately, what was truly tragic was seeing kids distracted by cell phones. Instead of old time, genuine face-to-face conversations amongst themselves, I saw too much of ear-to-phone-and face-to-ground action. Seriously? Kids you're never going to truly experience life until you turn off your phones and work on your social graces. Especially on prom night. Hands are meant for holding hands, not cell phones.
And guys, come on, you gotta be brain-dead not to have your eyes glued to the beauties all around you.
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