On Remembering Friday the Thirteenth:

I was thinking about past Friday the Thirteenth’s in my life and the one that stands out most in my memory is one that happened when I was in school. I must have been about thirteen or fourteen myself.

Back in the day we had school dances once a month. You paid for your ticket, Seventy-five cents in advance or a dollar at the door. Parents took turns chaperoning these dances and it was just my luck to have my mother coming to the dance on this Friday the Thirteenth to work the refreshment table.

We didn’t bother to decorate the school gym/auditorium. Folding chairs were placed around the walls. The only difference to it’s day time appearance was that the lighting was lower and a lone record player was set on the edge of the stage with stack of old records sitting next to it, all watched over by the man who owned them and played the songs.

But this night was different. I had my first casual date to the dance. We were going to meet at the dance and I find out last minute that my mother is going to be there. And worst of all was my mother took it into her head to decorate the walls of the dance. And of course I was mortified. A date with my mother looking on and she is going to embarrass me with decorating not with streamers and balloons. Oh No, not anything normal like that. No, She had spent the day making cardboard ladders, black cats, and aluminum foil covered cardboard to look like broken mirrors.

I almost didn’t go and if not for my date I wouldn’t have gone if you paid me. At first I tried to spend my time hiding in the corner trying not to be noticed. My date didn’t show and I was miserable. But in the end it was those stupid decorations that made my night as more and more boys (we called them boys back then.) came over to talk to me about the decorations and ask me to dance. I danced more dances that night then I ever did at any other dance or party since.

Who cares about Valentines Day when you can be the bell of the ball at a dance on Friday the Thirteenth.