This week we journey back to those halcyon years of long ago, those carefree days of high school. I enjoyed my years at Aledo High School, but I didn't take too much seriously. It was simply too easy to get on the Honor Roll. That is not braggadocio, merely an observation that if I could do it, then anyone could. I never studied. Played around too much in the hallways, never helped with school floats and such unless I thought I could spend time with one of the girls. Nope, high school was fun and games. I wouldn't discover real awareness until college. That was where my eyes were opened. In high school I just joked around and played along.
That's me in the next to last row, upper right, pen in hand, ready to take copious notes for class.
My eternal yearbook epitaph: The more mischievous of the Blythe twins, Mike could always be seen doing something, whether working for the school or just "bombing" around. Mike's sense of humor will be remembered at AHS. The references to working for the school and bombing around may be obvious, but I'll fill you in with that some other time.
If I'd taken football seriously I probably could have done better. Never learned the plays well enough to be an impact player, and, well, I had better things to do. This was purely peer pressure (that and Algebra II).
Stay tuned for further explanations of this picture.
Mike In The Middle
Escorting a beautiful girl at one of the proms, but I can't remember a thing about it.
That's me in the next to last row, upper right, pen in hand, ready to take copious notes for class.
I was a classic example of youth is wasted on the young. But I had fun. One of the things we did in high school was have a party when my parents went to California for a vacation. They had an extensive liquor collection and by the time the dust settled, most of the bottles were emptied. Easy enough to fix, put water in them and sit back and softly exclaim, "Score!" That is until the folks have a party and start mixing drinks for their friends...and that, as they say, is the coup de gras.*
*Coup de gras means a death blow intended to end the suffering of a wounded creature.
My hair seems to be taking on an odd Donald Trump look.
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