Throwback Thursday: Off to My Grad

In my day, they weren't called proms: that's American lingo.

They were grads.

In early summer of 1983, I was 18 years old, had just graduated from grade 12, and was on my way to my grad celebration. I had a new suit and it fit my slim build: navy blue. I had a new shirt that was a pale blue with a crisp, white collar. The patterned, dark-blue tie had flecks of rich, wine red, which perfectly matched my kerchief. My shoes, I still remember, were a polished black leather, also new.

My mother, who owned a flower shop at the time, had made a boutonniere: a simple, single white rose surrounded in baby's breath. And a new hair cut to finish the look.

I looked good.

My eldest daughter is in grade 12. This is her final year of high school before she heads off to university. When her school year ends, she'll be 18 and off to a grad of her own (sorry... they call it prom now).

Looking at my photo from 35 years ago, knowing that my daughter is almost at the age I was in that shot makes me realize how time has flown. It seems like a long time since that photo, taken just before I hopped in the car to pick up Sue G., my date for the evening.

Wow.

Just wow.