June 1, 1973 by Debi Pick Marquette |
The date was Friday, June 1, 1973, which would go down as one of the most memorable days of my lifetime. The morning classes were filled with joy, excitement, and much laughter. Suddenly the teachers all felt more like friends, as none of them even tried to quiet us down. This day was to say goodbye to the classmates that we had spent years getting to know. And in just a few hours, we would never know each other in that way again. When we went through those doors, we would not look back. Our class would be no longer, and now we could show who we were and deserved to be considered adults. We would see each other again on Tuesday, June 5, at our graduation ceremonies. Emotions were running high and low, happy and sad, and many tears. It was 11:55, and I was looking forward to hearing that bell ring one more time for us. But at noon, when it rang, there was so much noise, screaming and hollering, I'm unsure if I even heard it. I followed the crowd as we all ran out the doors excitedly, hugging and cheering. And why not? We were the Annandale High School Class of 1973. We were genuinely excited to finish our high school careers, but there was much more to the excitement. Our state's drinking law changed from 21 to 18 this day. And since it was only one block from the school to the uptown bars, nobody even bothered getting in their cars to drive uptown. We must have left a cloud of senior dust in our tracks as we merrily made our way to the closest bar. There were a few in our class whose maturity was way beyond their years, and they were the ones who actually made it to their car and went home that day. But no not me. I wasn't one of the mature at that time. Nor did good grades account for being that smart. But then again, I had been partying with my friends for the last year, so why would I miss out on the excitement? I would go for a while but couldn't stay long because Glen was excited to take me to the bar for our night's date. He was almost 22, so I couldn't go in with him before now. I think he was looking forward to it more than I was. I thought about how they had warned us if anyone was going to the bars, we would not be able to graduate with our classmates. But what were they going to do? Hold the ceremonies for the four kids who went home? Now here is where my memory starts to get a little foggy. I remember all the men in the bar who kept buying drinks for my girlfriends and me. But I don't know how long I stayed, what or how much I drank, and I don't remember how I got home that day. My memory picks up again around 7:00 that evening. I woke up to the sound of someone pounding on the door. It's a good thing that whoever brought me home didn't lock the door behind them because I don't think I could have gotten my head to move off the pillow, even if my body could have managed to work its way off the couch. And yet the next few moments only seemed to get worse as I looked up and saw Glen standing there. And now I was sure I truly knew the meaning of "if looks could kill!" And in those fifty years, alcohol and I have had a love/hate off-and-on relationship. Also, we had already lost six classmates to alcohol-related crashes by our five-year reunion. It is fifty years to the date, and the fact that I realize how insignificant alcohol is to me, helps me to know I'm finally mature enough to have a glass of wine when we go out to dinner or in the evening before bed. Looking back, I remember the day well, or at least the "before and after" well. But when asked if I'd share these memories with my grandkids. Naw! They might start to think they should have taken me seriously all the times I told them, "When I grow up, I want to be just like you." So let me rephrase my opening statement for this story. The date was June 1, 1973, and this day would go down as one of the most idiotic, blundering decisions ever made by our State's Legislature. The decision to change the drinking age from 21 to 18 certainly wasn't the brightest light they ever shone at our Minnesota State Capital. But the true idiocy was when they picked the same day for the law to go into effect that most of the high schools in our state that year were letting their seniors out, some as early as noon! No matter how you look at the situation, this was a historic moment for our state and quite the keepsake memory for the "AHS Class of 1973". Today, on June 1, 2023, our Governor Waltz signed a bill to make recreational cannabis legal in our state. I do have an opinion on it, but am just going to say that I was amazed that yet another law with life altering potential was passed fifty years to the date of such a destructive one in our history.
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Debi Pick Marquette
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