FALL FRENZY
Have you ever sat and watched and prayed for somebody to get injured? Did you catch your breath when he was tackled from behind and then carried off the gridiron on a stretcher?  Did you then feel a bit annoyed when he appeared not to have any serious injury - no broken legs or anything like that that might prevent him from having a part in the rest of your night?  I did.  

Fall in American High Schools means football season.  Sports generate great enthusiasm by everyone involved in a community.  The Friday and Saturday  night football games, especially when they  played between local rival schools, would command thousands of spectators, (and in a town of 20,000 inhabitants that's saying quite a lot).All would be shouting their heads off to support their favourite team, whether or not they understand the first thing about football. It would inevitably be a cold night, because in the fall in North Dakota, it dropped below freezing each night from late September onwards.  

But the highlight of football season is the homecoming game.  Although originally homecoming probably was introduced for alumni to come back and nostalge over their high school days, in reality only the current students who had much to do with homecoming.  On Saturday afternoon on Homecoming Day, the high school band would march through the town and the chosen girls in their second best formals would follow behind sitting on a float and receive the acclaim and envy of the rest of the town. The centre of the activity was always the football game, with the cheerleaders shouting their heads off and leaping in the air, with the marching band performing fancy manoeuvres at half time, and then after the Homecoming game, the main football players escorted the chosen Queen and her court to the dance. The girls wore long formal gowns and long sleeved gloves, and during the parade and football game, the local fur shop allowed the five of them to borrow fur coats to wear over their fancy dresses. (I remember we turned ours inside out when it started to rain. I expect the mink could have coped with rain, but somehow it seemed less worrying to have the drops on the silk lining.)

 Ten senior girls were nominated for Queen by the senior class. Then the entire student body voted for their favourites amongst the ten. It was a real surprise to everyone when I was chosen. The other nine girls were athletes, cheerleaders, baton twirlers, beauties.  I was none of these and at 17 was probably one of the few girls around who had never had a real date. I was tall and skinny and wore glasses, and my only real friends were three equally un-popular girls. We called ourselves the Boresome Foursome. But I was there on the float - and there in my fur coat and long blue formal - and dreading the dance to come, because I knew my football hero partner was going to be taking me to the dance since he hadn't been seriously injured as I had hoped,  and I knew it would be an absolute disaster. I could count on the fingers of one hand the times I had danced with a boy in the 4 years of high school. I was going to be a big blue wallflower. 

Our team won the game easily - 28 to 6, and afterwards the Queen and attendants were carried back in convertibles to the high school for the dance.  Only the students were allowed at the dance which was held in the dining hall, and had been decorated in streamers of blue and white (school colours) for the occasion.  We redid our makeup and then waited in a nearby classroom for our pre-determined escorts for the evening Mary, the Queen was matched up with Andy, the team captain; Marcia, the glamorous one, was with Joe, one of the halfbacks; Vicky, the baton twirler, had Chuck, a quarterback; Judy, the athlete was matched with George, another quarterback. My partner's name was Jim, and he was tall, muscular, quite good looking and he played fullback. But I didn't like him.  To be honest I didn't really know him. We had been in the same high school for 4 years, and there were only 100 people in the year group, but I don't think I had had any classes with him. In senior year, I took French, Drama, Physics, and Journalism - he took metalwork, woodwork and sports.  He had never spoken to me, or shown any interest in me, and the feeling was mutual. Of all the boys on the football team, he was the one I least wanted to spend time with.

We lined up and marched into the hall, and everyone cheered.  Then we posed for pictures and finally the dance began.  The first record chosen was Johnny Mathis, singing Wonderful, Wonderful - one of my favourites, but as the words swirled through my head "And this moment we share, is Wonderful, Wonderful, Oh so wonderful my Love" they seemed totally inappropriate.   

 Despite my prayers, Jim was perfectly able to walk and dance and he did his duty.

"Shall we dance?" he said.

"I guess that's the idea."

Silence for several minutes.

"Good game," I offered.

"Thanks," he replied.

"I saw you got hurt."

"I just had the wind knocked out of me. Nothing much."

"Oh, that's good," I lied through clenched teeth.

Finally the record finished, and he left me and went off to spend the rest of the night with his girlfriend, Jeannie (short, blond, cute, dumb).  I stood there on my own praying (not that it had done me much good so far) that someone would come and ask me to dance. I considered spending the rest of the night in the toilets.

Have you ever sat in a decorated fancy hall in a beautiful long dress, with white gloves (which were rather damp by now because I had used them to wipe the sweat from under my arms (strapless dress) and thought that you were going to have to be a very obvious wallflower for at least 2 more hours?  I looked at the clock, and then I looked at the floor. I tried to smile but it got stuck. But just then I had a tap on my shoulder, "Want to dance?" said Ronnie, one of my younger friends - I had accompanied him on the piano when he played a solo on his French Horn for the music competitions. 

So my worst fears didn't happen. I was asked to dance every dance by boys I knew very well. Mostly younger than me, they were my pals and buddies. I knew them through the choir and band - as I accompanied both. And somehow I could relate to younger boys and felt comfortable with them while I was just totally inhibited when trying to talk to boys my own age.  After Ronnie came  Mel (trumpet), and then Steve (another French horn) and then John (a saxophone player) and then Bill, Paul, Jerry, and Frank, and so on. In the end it was a wonderful night. I found out later that my girlfriends (now become the Gleesome Threesome) had gone around and suggested to various boys that they should ask me to dance. I don't think any money changed hands, but I didn't care how it came about, only that I danced, and that the illusion of popularity hung about me on that very special night.