"Joleen, are you going to the ball?" (she knew I wasn't) "OH! Joe isn't going either! Good--the two of you can go together!" I was simply too shocked to protest.

It was Proctor High School, class of 1980-something! To this day, I get weird looks from people at Proctor games when I shout "GO PANTHERS!!!" (They're the Raiders now). Suffice it to say, it was the 80s. I used enough hairspray to single-handedly carve a hole in the ozone layer as I teased my hair to the moon. I had enough make-up on my face to spackle a small house. My dress, a cream-colored sea of satin and lace, was great at the time. When I look at photos now, I'm reminded more of the lining of a casket or grandma's bedspread! Big jewelry. Big Hair. Big Make-up. Hey--it was the 80s. The music??? A Flock of Seagulls, Culture Club, Duran Duran....aahhhhh THOSE were the days!

One fun thing that young kids now will laugh at--his parents and my mom and sister showed up at the ball. They didn't exactly crash; they had dinner at the Radisson (where the ball was held) then peeked in to see us. We went out to the bar to see them, too; Joe's parents were AMAZING dancers and we all enjoyed watching them.

As for Joe, my awkward, arranged ball date: we married seven years later. Jeanne stood up in my wedding. This fall, Joe and I put our five-year old daughter, Brooke, on the bus for kindergarten. My 20-year-high school reunion is this fall. Excuse me while I go look for my teasing comb.....

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