As I turn myself around, 180 degrees, to my graduation night, I look back, back, way back to June 6, 1971, when long hair was in, ‘Nam was out.
The hottest phrase was, "Cool man," no matter what the temperature outside said. Oval- shaped eyeglasses, tinted with every color of the rainbow, was the look. A V.W. van spattered with those colors or more was the thing to drive around town, while listening to those hits jamming off your 8-track tape.
It was so groovy.
As I look back, I see an anxious young man waiting impatiently in the auditorium of Central Union High School trying his darnedest to differentiate which hand he was told to shake with from the one he would receive that empty diploma.
Yes, they were dummies; only the covers, in the event that Murphy's Law would slip in along the line.
That evening, (excuse me, dude, for not having a recollection on who you were, man), the orator told us he was going to shoot a few statistics our way.