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6/28/05 a real "senior" prom Lucille Ardrey
When I read about it in “Lake Views,” I had a good laugh. I live in a retirement community, and “Lake Views” is our biweekly publication about activities on campus. The bold type said, “Prom Night. Relive the wonderful memories tonight in our lounge.” The juniors and seniors from a neighboring high school were putting on this party for us. They were planning it, hiring an excellent dance band, providing the refreshments, and doing all the decorating. We do occasionally have parties that include tablecloths on the tables and the center floor open for dancing. Lots of people just watch the few dancers, who dance to the band of the evening—but a prom? A prom with teens dancing with old folks? I didn’t think so! I dismissed the idea as ridiculous. I wouldn’t be going, anyway. My granddaughter was starting a new business, selling children’s books at parties, and she had invited me to attend one. That’s where I was going, and I was wearing casual slacks and a button-down top. My grandson was picking me up, and while I waited downstairs for him, I thought I’d check out the lounge. Decorators had clearly been busy in there for quite a while. I admitted that it did look festive. I didn’t go in, but I noticed the archway at the entrance, covered with garlands of flowers and twinkling lights. The stage, which tonight would be the bandstand, was strung with lights as a backdrop. Lots of blue and white balloons dangled from the ceiling. The doorway to our coffee lounge, which is connected to the main lounge, was hung with blue and white streamers, tied back to form curtains. Clever. But it was time for me to go. My ride was waiting. At my granddaughter’s party I was, of course, the oldest by far, but it was fun. The party lasted an hour and then my grandson brought me back to Lakeview Village. As I walked past the lounge, I heard the music and the laughter coming from inside. I lingered outside the door and listened for a minute. As I stood there, two high school girls wearing strapless formals came out. As they walked by, one of them said, “Why don’t you go on in? It’s lots of fun.” “I don’t think I’m dressed to go in,” I said a bit wistfully. “You’re fine,” one of them said. “Not everyone is dressed up. Look at that lady. She’s wearing sweats. And there are refreshments in the coffee lounge. You oughta go in. It’s fun.” And they swept by me, their long dresses swishing. First I went to the coffee lounge, where people were sitting at tables covered with white table clothes. Each table had a vase of fresh daffodils, daisies, or lilacs on it. The refreshment table was piled high with plates of cookies and a fountain was flowing with lemonade. Plastic champagne glasses filled with sparkling white grape juice beckoned to me. Reinforced by the refreshments and realizing it really didn’t matter how I was dressed, I slipped into the main lounge. The walls were lined with more tables with white clothes. Lots of people were sitting down, but the floor was filled with people doing a line dance. I noticed that the band was playing a peppy melody. I wanted to dance, but they were too far into it, so I just sat and watched and tapped my feet in rhythm. About 20 to25 high school boys and girls mingled in the crowd. All the girls were dressed in lovely formals or short cocktail dresses. The boys were mostly wearing suits, though some were casually dressed. A young man invited me to dance in spite of my outfit, and the band was playing Glenn Miller. I was very pleased to dance with him. The young girls invited the male residents to dance and the boys danced with the women. It was really a delightful evening, and as the last strains of the music faded, those kids were already cleaning up. I keep reminding myself not to be so judgmental; I had almost missed a super prom. The kids are having their real proms in a couple of weeks, and I hope they have as much fun as I did. Lucille Ardrey writes for pleasure from her home at Lakeview Village in Lenexa, KS. © University of Kansas Medical Center, Center on Aging, June, 2005.
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