Last weekend it was the 100th anniversary of the high school I used to attend (and where I still sometimes go to take Spanish classes). There was a lunch on the afternoon of Friday May 16 for my grad class, the class of '52. We meet every year for lunch and each month some of the women also go for lunch so we've kept in touch -- a grand bunch of people who I always enjoy seeing again.
That evening there was a reunion for all years at the school and the classrooms were designated to the grad class years. They had beer and wine sales in the hallways where once us kids used to congregate in between classes. You could go from room to room finding other old school chums. So it was a lot of fun. The following night there was a gala at the Agradome with various well-known bands including the Dal Richards orchestra which has been playing around town for as many years as we grads can remember. A real touch of nostalgia. Of course there were rock bands and others for the sake of the young present-day students. There was also a lot of entertainment at the school that day but I didn't attend.
In all it was a wonderful reunion weekend. We were each given a beautiful book commemorating the school's venerable age with lots of mementos in it to remind us of our long-ago school days.
But because this is all about my high school and the reunion, I thought I'd post it here too.
A BAD HAIR DAY (1952)
Back in 1952 when I was soon to graduate from Britannia High School in Vancouver, there was a popular hair style called the ‘poodle cut’. It was a short hair cut, permed into a soft curly style resembling a poodle’s pom-pom. A lot of my classmates were having their hair styled this way for our grad, and I wanted to be like them.
It happened that my Mom and little sister both came down with scarlet fever and were quarantined as they did in those days and I had to go and stay with a family friend, a very kind old lady named Mrs. Grey. I told Mrs. Grey how much I wanted a poodle cut. So one day she gave me some money and told me to go up to Commercial Drive and make a hair appointment.
Fortunately, my Mom soon recovered enough for me to return home. She immediately set to work on my ruined mop with her clippers. She had to cut off most of my hair. Even then it was still tight and frizzy. When I returned to school, the older guy that I had a crush on started calling me Puppy Dog. He’d pat me on the head every time I passed him in the hall. At least he was paying attention to me. After all, I did look like a poodle!