Saturday, February 15, 2014

Old Man’s Cave ~ Skipping School At the End of Our Senior Year







Summer has always had a way of high jacking my senses and setting them to "stun."  One memory that came swooshing back to engulf me recently was of an enchanted day at the end of my senior year of high school.

A group of 30 or 40 classmates decided to play hookie one Friday at the end of the year to spend a day at Old Man's Cave in the bucolic Hocking Hills of southern Ohio. I struggled with my inner good girl, weighing the pros and cons of joining my peers.  I had never skipped school before.

The day before our secret trip was scheduled, Mr. Strietlemeier announced to our Distributive Ed class that he had planned a  pop quiz for Friday, but because he feared several of us would suddenly fall victim to a strange flu, he would postpone the quiz until the following week, after we had recovered. I interpreted his blessing as the permission I needed to throw caution to the wind and join my friends.

At sound of the bell, Mr. S  wished us a good and safe weekend as we spilled out of the room and into the hall, without casting so much as a backward glance.

Early the following morning our group of misfits met and formed a caravan that took us down Route 33 to our destination.  We wore our bathing suits under our clothes and carried in our pockets, bags and coolers the sweet and savory provisions we would need in those moments throughout the day when sustenance would be required. 

The specific snapshot of that memory that flooded my consciousness was of wading into the small pond under the Lower Falls.  As I let the memory carry me away, my skin was touched by the heat of early summer gently cooled by the huge rock surfaces and the woodland greenery that surrounded us in that magical, ancient place.

This was sense memory at its finest.  I felt myself shedding my shirt and jeans to wade into the cool, sun-warmed water with my friend, Spodo.  We were two woodland creatures, reveling in the beauty that surrounded us as we splashed, frolicked and languished in the soft water of the pool.  It was a perspective of our adventure that was shared only between the two of us.  We were good and true friends and it was an extended moment of pure joy.
 
As that scene flooded my memory, my view suddenly panned back from being us to seeing us.  From this new perspective of a familiar memory, it slowly dawned on me, what the effect of the sight of a17 year-old girl in her soft peach bikini, cavorting in that shallow pool must have had on some of the members of our group (if anyone else even noticed).  

I never saw myself as a ravishing beauty, but now, as the mother of a healthy, normal, grown son, I have witnessed what it is for a young man's fancy to turn to thoughts of...well, you know the rest. I couldn't help but break into a smile with that realization of the naivete of youth. Once again, "D'oh!" springs to mind.

That day remains one of the most nearly perfect memories I hold from that chapter of my life; not just because of the snapshot, but for all it was from beginning to end.  It was a day of connecting with people I hadn't known well until that day, and of bonding even more closely with the friends I cherished.  


The big picture of my classmates' shared adventure has always made me smile.  It was an intimate experience of being among like-minded friends who spent one glorious day together, driving, hiking, joking, swimming, talking and laughing together.  


The memory of that enchanted day, coming to me as it did on such a cold winter's night, warmed my heart and soul, filling me with gratitude for memories of good times with old friends.



Image: Stock photo of the Lower Falls at Old Man's Cave

Sunday, July 3, 2011

My Girls

Dedication:
I ♥ My Girls! No matter how much time or space separates us, we can always be found within each others' hearts. Harriet, Andrea, Lenore, Fran, Marilyn and Marcia; and Barb, who couldn't be here, but was a big part of our reunion weekend in spirit. You are priceless treasures.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Blessings came at me from every angle over the weekend in the form of a gathering of the remarkable women who unwittingly shaped each others' lives as we were coming of age. My Girls.  A high school reunion brought us all back home.  An experience which is, for so many, a dreaded gathering of old friends and nemeses.  For some, a reunion is an opportunity for greedy revenge or gloating.  For others, attendance is almost mandatory; an occasion which they attend with curiosity and fascination. 


For My Girls, our reunion was a thing of beauty.  A magical reconnection.  The opportunity to tell stories, to grow, laugh, cry, laugh until we cried, remember, rediscover and reconnect. What we did best during our weekend together was love one another.  We experienced who each of us has become, and we embraced each other with honesty, respect and sheer joy. 

I am a late bloomer.  I suspect I am just beginning to discover who I am becoming, thanks to My Girls shining such a bright light on my new path. I am on a high, soaring higher than I ever have and it feels good.  Oh, so good.

We lost things: jackets, glasses cases, cell phones; but when all was said and done, all of the things were recovered and returned (or will be, eventually) to their rightful owners. We lost our minds over and over again, but that was nothing new among our crowd.  We found new connections with old friends whose lives had taken them in all directions, and we discovered that, together, we make a whole. 

I love My Girls as much as I love anything in this world.  What amazes me most (and always will) is that I am beginning to realize that I am a person who represents something special to them.  Me. Susie. The girl who always followed, even when she might have made it look like she was leading.  Susie is Somebody to these wonderful women she treasures beyond words.  How 'bout that?!

Sunday, June 26, 2011

New blog coming soon!

I have just created this blog.  Interestingly enough, there was a mix-up when I registered the name.  When it said that the name "Aunt Susie" wasn't available, I changed it to "Momcat Sooma."  Thanks to the internet goblins, the blog is now named "Momcat Sooma," but my signature is from "Aunt Susie."  Frustrating, and not a little entertaining, but nothing I can't live with.

I hope to see you soon!