The third story I shouldn't share in public but do anyway
#3
This one goes back before the 'fruitful story' period of European travel. This one takes us back to that most favorite time in our lives - high school!
My high school had a tradition for the senior football players at homecoming. Each senior player would be presented a plaque on the field at half-time. Each player would ask a female to 'sponsor' him, and she would be the one who handed him the plaque on the field. They would also have a picture taken for the yearbook. Generally, the football player would ask his homecoming date to be his sponsor.
My senior year I had this sort of 'pet' guy who followed me around and always asked me out, and I always told him I just wanted to be friends. He asked me to Homecoming, and I had been taught that you graciously said yes to the first person who asked, so I was going to Homecoming with him whether I liked it or not. He was also the class president but not a football player.
One day before homecoming I was sitting in my Advanced Comp class, minding my own business, reading Audrey Rose under my desk when the vice principal/head football coach came to the door of our classroom and called me out. When I stepped out in the hall, he immediately let me know 'we' had a problem.
He proceeded to tell me that Barry (Obama) was planning to ask me to be his sponsor. Uhhhh . . . okay, I stammered. I felt flattered and embarrassed and confused. We often send a friend to ask for us in high school or to see if someone likes us, but not a teacher or a coach or especially an awkward vice principal coach. He continued with, "You have to say no!"
"Why?" I asked.
"Well, he's black and you're white," he said seriously, as if revealing a secret.
"I noticed that," I said, "so what's the problem? I already have a date for homecoming."
"He already has a date, too. He is just asking you to hand him the plaque at the game and have your picture taken together for the yearbook. But, this is a problem. Our school is not ready for this. You have to promise me you will say no when he asks you."
"I can't make any such promise," I said, feeling the butterflies in my tummy as I imagined Barry asking me himself.
"You have to say no. You go home and tell your parents. They won't let you do this. Are you ready to get bricks through your windows and see a riot here at our school?" he asked with the true concern of a man who had seen violence.
"My parents are not prejudice. They would be proud of me. This is not about a relationship. It's me standing with him on the football field," I defended.
I went back to my seat with the feeling I had done something wrong and the butterflies still floating around with a secret I now held. I waited anxiously for Barry to ask me. I tried to walk close to the football players' locker room to give him an opportunity. It never happened. I never knew what happened, but someone else stood on the field with him at homecoming, and her skin was the same color as his.
Okay, it wasn't really Barack, it was Johnny Greene. But, it could have been him if only . . . I had gone to school in Hawaii, and if he had played football instead of basketball and . . . if I were a couple of years older and if only . . . we had been friends.
Johnny, I so wish for a chance to talk to you without the awkwardness of the coach in between, so I could find out what really happened on your side. . .
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