Defend the Tradition

Scott and I found ourselves on the front row of a Davis High hello assembly for the first time since 1988.  This time, it was different than it was back in the dark ages.  The studentbody officers all had face mics.  They performed skits and routines that had obviously not been ad libbed, or even thought up the night before.  They had costumes that were not of the "rummage through your mother's closet" variety.  I was nostalgic for the good old low-tech days of the 1980's, but what these students put together was dazzling.  There was an arc to the production, and it was good.  The numbers that the school groups performed were professional quality.  Who was the incredible boy who sang the solo from Les Miz?  Watch out, Broadway!  Performances by the cheerleaders, D'Ettes, drum line, Madrigals and Mr. Miller were equally show-stopping.  And of course, we thoroughly enjoyed the DANCE COMPANY PERFORMANCE, with Golda and her friends.

Back in the day, all WE had was John Jensen flexing his muscles shirtless!

At the beginning of the assembly, the studentbody president, J.R. Oldham, led the school in a silent tribute to 9-11.  It struck me as he recited his textbook summary of what took place that day, that 9-11 is history for our kids.  Golda was what, four years old?  All these sharp, talented, forward-looking kids, poised to lead the world fresh out of high school, they don't remember 9-11.  When I was in high school, an event like that was unthinkable.  In the blink of an eye, it has not only happened, but become history.

And speaking of history, the theme of the assembly was the last hundred years, since Davis High opened its doors in 1913, with a graduating class of 30 students in 1914.  My grandmother Golda graduated in 1924?  My dad in 1954, my aunt in 1962.  Scott and me in 1989.  For 18 years in a row, Scott and I figured out, we will have a child of ours at Davis High.  I think it's safe to say we're "defending the tradition," and we're certainly doing it with a tear in our eye.  We're babies.  But come on, stick us in an auditorium ON 9-11, at our alma mater, the place where we fell in love, get the principal up onstage to talk about tradition and excellence, show us a production where our beautiful daughter dances, wrap it all up with the school fight song, and then expect us not to cry.

Not gonna happen.  Darts are sappy that way.