Q

Queen

Continuing in the royalty theme....

There were not all that many things in which to excel in Cochran High School.  You could either play basketball (I have not a single sports bone in my body now, nor did I then); be a cheerleader (I tried in seventh grade, didn't make the squad, gave up, and anyway don't like to yell even from the sidelines); or be a majorette (my best friend was the star twirler, I was the baton fumbler and didn't make that squad either.)

What was left?  Playing the piano?  I did that but not to the point of excellence.  Being an officer of a club? I did that, too, but our clubs never did much beyond electing officers.

Much to my surprise, two years in a row, I got to be one of the two girls on the homecoming court.  That meant I got to get an evening dress and the whole family went to Macon to pick it out.  And you got to stand on the football field at halftime (oblivious to the score or the moves by the players before or after) and smile.  That I can do.  (Remember those long gloves and teased hair?)

We moved from Cochran to Lawrenceville my junior year.  Although I was happy to move and meet new friends, I knew I'd have to give up on my one excellent thing!  But my boyfriend was in grad school in Athens, an hour away, and I'd see him lots more often, which was--I thought at the time--a good thing.

Senior Picture at Central Gwinnett High School
1966

Nobody was more surprised than I when I, the new girl, got picked in the new school to be on the homecoming court. We rode out onto the field on the back of convertibles with our escorts (mine was my boyfriend and future husband) in the passenger seat. Then we stood in a row under the lights waiting for--drumroll!--the announcement of homecoming queen.

When I heard my name, I thought,  This must be the best day of my life!

My best day lasted for about five minutes.  I was the queen!

As we got into the convertible, my escort/boyfriend/future husband declared his intention to "get out of there, skip the dance," and that--I'm sorry to say is what the queen did.  I don't remember what we did or where we went, just that I wondered for a long time what a homecoming dance might be like.

Nobody told me that the queen should be in attendance, never mind what her escort said.  Nobody told me that as queen I should enjoy a little royal attention and the chance to override the choice of the man.  So--I hate to admit it--I simply deferred to him and missed the dance.  I've always regretted that because actually, in real life, there aren't too many opportunities to be queen.