By Rick Kaempfer
I have gotten quite a reaction to the prom picture I posted in this space last week. (That's it again above.)
Here a few sample comments I received...
A) “Your frilly shirt matches your date’s dress. Please tell me you didn’t plan that.”
B) “Look at her facial expression. She’s screaming ‘I’m dating a fuzzy tuxedo! Save me!’”
C) “Wow. Foxy. When are the two of you meeting up with Huggy Bear?”
D) “You wanna know what I thought when I saw this picture? I thought–’He got a girl to date him?’”
E) “Nice Mustache. You look like a younger, skinnier, and less-hip Dave Wannstedt.”
On the other hand, this whole experience has been oddly liberating. I always pictured that prom photo emerging at a time when it could really damage me (like during a political campaign). By voluntarily allowing it’s release, I controlled the story–I didn’t let it control me.
That’s why I’ve decided to take every other 1970s and 1980s skeleton out of my closet for all to see. After these revelations emerge, I will be “fully vetted.” No one will be able to humiliate me again.
Buckle your seat belts. This could get ugly.
(NOTE: Those of you born after 1985 or so may not get most of these references)
*That tuxedo in the picture? Didn’t rent it. Owned it. It still hangs in my mom’s closet. I wore it a half dozen times including for my high school graduation picture.
*The theme song for my prom was “Theme from Mahogany” ("Do you know where you’re going to"). I thought it was a good idea.
*I wore a gold chain for a decade (1972-1982). That’s right. And it had a “Leo” charm at the end of it, too. If a girl had asked me my sign, I wouldn’t have had to say a word. I could have shown her my necklace. No one ever asked.
*I loved shiny clothing. Jogging suits? Yup. Neon Yellow “Chicago Sting” shirt, jacket, and shorts? Yup. Fire-Engine-Red Satin Jacket? Yup.
*Earth shoes? Wore ‘em. Although I felt oddly off-balance when I did, just like I did when I drove my olive green 1971 Duster.
*I loved Starsky and Hutch so much I tape recorded the theme song off the television with my hand-held tape-recorder microphone. And I listened to it. Often.
*I had a giant belt buckle with my name (”Ricky”) on it. I was 15 at the time. (Look at that picture again. Does this revelation really surprise you?)
*I tell everyone that the first album I bought was Sgt. Pepper by the Beatles. That was actually my second album. My first album was by the Partridge Family. I can still recite the chorus of the hit song… “I think I love you, but what am I so afraid of, I’m afraid that I’m not sure of, a love there is no cure for. Oh, I think I love you, isn’t that what life is made of, though it worries me to say, that I never felt this way.”
*My father once told me that I wasn’t welcome back in the house until I got my hair cut, and I seriously contemplated living in the wilderness. If we had had a better stocked pantry, you’d be reading about a mysterious 44-year-old suburban mountain man.
*The photo that mysteriously appeared on the school bulletin board of the soccer coach picking his butt? Guilty, your honor. You have no idea how much film I wasted before I got the perfect shot of the man who cut me from the team.
*”Grease Soundtrack”? Owned it.
*”Disco Demolition Army” t-shirt? Yup. I also had not one, but two “Death before Disco” shirts. They were shiny.
*What were my friends and I giggling about as we listened to Ted Nugent records right in front of my mother? She had no idea what “Wango Tango” was about.
*My buddy Dave and I worked out every other day and drank protein shakes to gain weight because we were maybe 125 pounds at the time. One day we missed a workout. I haven’t worked out a single time since. That was 1983.
There. Forgive me for not providing any further photographic support for these moments. I think I’ve officially paid my dues.
Anyone care to join me in my humiliation, or have I been “vetted” needlessly?
