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My senior year was spent at a brand-new high school, Rocky Mountain High. Sounds like that song, doesn't it? Actually, the year before, they had a contest for the name, to be voted on by the students, and my friend and future (now past) roommate Paul Wiebelhaus suggested that name, based on the song, and it won. The top bubblegum station in Denver (we were in Fort Collins, 60 miles north) got really interested in the school for a while because of that, and it was rumored that John Denver had offered to play for us for free but was vetoed by the Student Council, who didn't want anybody to think the school was named for some song.
Anyway, it was a jolly year, spent hanging around the theatre department, working on the school paper, and spending three hours a day at the Voc-Tech learning not quite enough about fixing radios and TVs. Gradually, it all drew toward the inevitable graduation. Well, inevitable for many. For me it was contingent upon replacing a pane of glass I had stupidly let drop in the theatre department. At the last minute, I ran around like the proverbial beheaded chicken and was eventually saved by the kindness of a teacher (who I had had in home room in junior high, and actually earned a D in his class) who fronted me the small amount of cash needed so that I could be an ex-student. Yes, I paid him back.
I didn't march, though. I had this idea that I was going to relocate myself to another state -- ho ho -- and went to the proper authorities to see about getting that sheepskin though other channels. I started with the receptionist. She promoted my case to the Dean, and the Dean sent me upstairs (figuratively) to Dr. Wells himself.
The school principal, L. Rex Wells, was a nice fellow. He had a soda can on his desk, holding pencils, with his name on it. I later found out that "Dr. Wells" was a Dr. Pepper wannabee, but at the time I wondered if he'd had it made. I explained my situation to him, and he responded helpfully. He would see to it that my diploma was mailed to me. He spoke briefly of the future, and opportunities, and then he shook my hand and I went out.
Only after I had left the room did it occur to me that I had just had my own private graduation ceremony! I was, therefore, the first graduate of Rocky Mountain High School.
For this and other reasons, I've always regretted not finding some way to spring for a class ring. I sometimes think of looking up the company and seeing if they'd make me a 1974 RMHS ring with my signature inside. At the time, it would have cost something like $35 or $65 -- either sum was astronomical to me. Anyway, that's my graduation story.
(Recollection inspired by reading Stephen Colbert's commencement address at Knox)
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My senior year was spent at a brand-new high school, Rocky Mountain High. Sounds like that song, doesn't it? Actually, the year before, they had a contest for the name, to be voted on by the students, and my friend and future (now past) roommate Paul Wiebelhaus suggested that name, based on the song, and it won. The top bubblegum station in Denver (we were in Fort Collins, 60 miles north) got really interested in the school for a while because of that, and it was rumored that John Denver had offered to play for us for free but was vetoed by the Student Council, who didn't want anybody to think the school was named for some song.
Anyway, it was a jolly year, spent hanging around the theatre department, working on the school paper, and spending three hours a day at the Voc-Tech learning not quite enough about fixing radios and TVs. Gradually, it all drew toward the inevitable graduation. Well, inevitable for many. For me it was contingent upon replacing a pane of glass I had stupidly let drop in the theatre department. At the last minute, I ran around like the proverbial beheaded chicken and was eventually saved by the kindness of a teacher (who I had had in home room in junior high, and actually earned a D in his class) who fronted me the small amount of cash needed so that I could be an ex-student. Yes, I paid him back.
I didn't march, though. I had this idea that I was going to relocate myself to another state -- ho ho -- and went to the proper authorities to see about getting that sheepskin though other channels. I started with the receptionist. She promoted my case to the Dean, and the Dean sent me upstairs (figuratively) to Dr. Wells himself.
The school principal, L. Rex Wells, was a nice fellow. He had a soda can on his desk, holding pencils, with his name on it. I later found out that "Dr. Wells" was a Dr. Pepper wannabee, but at the time I wondered if he'd had it made. I explained my situation to him, and he responded helpfully. He would see to it that my diploma was mailed to me. He spoke briefly of the future, and opportunities, and then he shook my hand and I went out.
Only after I had left the room did it occur to me that I had just had my own private graduation ceremony! I was, therefore, the first graduate of Rocky Mountain High School.
For this and other reasons, I've always regretted not finding some way to spring for a class ring. I sometimes think of looking up the company and seeing if they'd make me a 1974 RMHS ring with my signature inside. At the time, it would have cost something like $35 or $65 -- either sum was astronomical to me. Anyway, that's my graduation story.
(Recollection inspired by reading Stephen Colbert's commencement address at Knox)
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