The dogwoods are done blooming, but limos are seen driving everywhere about town. It’s not Lady Gaga on her way to SNL that has those ubiquitous black sedans pulling up outside restaurants, or this weekend’s UVA graduation with its influx of celebrity parents. Nope, it’s time for that teenage angst or rite of passage known as Prom!
Nathan and Adelaide
I went to my Senior Prom with my future husband and co-star in Guys and Dolls (aka Nathan Detroit). Real life vaguely resembled that Runyonesque musical comedy because it actually did take him 13 years to propose. So naturally when the New York Times asked its readers for their own prom pictures I was happy to oblige. Noting we should only add a few sentences, I took them at their word. After a few rejection letters from this publishing giant – ps, I never thought they’d print us, page 5 – let me elaborate here. http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2011/05/19/us/20110519_PROM_USERGEN.html
Back then, in 1966, we didn’t drink or do drugs, well at least I didn’t. We also didn’t “go all the way” in high school, imagine. Strangely enough, we still managed to have fun. We drove down to the Shore afterwards with our geeky/drama club friends, the same people we still celebrate Thanksgiving with almost every year – the Big Chill group. We spread out blankets on the beach and we swam and buried each other in sand till dawn. We were heady with the freedom of it all. Thinking back, I had a pretty progressive flapper Mother!
Big Chill at Holden Beach
We made our own dresses and drove our parents’ cars. Granted I inherited my big brother’s teensy Renault, but having one’s own car in high school was unusual. Skipping ahead to the Bride’s Prom, she refused to go with a gaggle of girls and waited for the formal invite. I never had any pictures, but heard it was great fun. She found a beautiful white Calvin Klein dress, that she managed to wear at her sorority formal too! By the time the Rocker was Prom material, I was serving on the School Board, making things a bit dicey. He wasn’t interested in proms, he had his metal band holed up in our garage day and night. Luckily, Title 9 extended to outdated notions of who should ask who to prom, and we actually had to buy him a tux since he was invited to so many.
Blonde Rocker on Right
MountainMornings 
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