Reflections of a Leader, by Stephen D. Parsons

Steve Parsons, pictured here in modern times with his wife, Kelly, was president of the Student Council when we were seniors, in ancient times. He spent a lot of time with his constituents, and like any good politician, he remembers each and every one--especially the hot-looking ones. He was generous in providing written memories of his years in public life, so the rest of this post is in Steve's voice alone:

As I woke up in the morning of the first day of my senior year, the following thoughts were running through my head:

I hope my hair blow dryer doesn’t overheat and explode. (My big-hair 80s look has to really rock this year.)

Will Kris Belyus be wearing her blue jean short-short mini skirt?

How many times will Joe Bihlmeyer say the word “awesome?”

How many times will Mark “Alfie” Shaw say the phrase “Hola, dude?”

How many times will the teachers say, “Please, take out a clean sheet of paper for a pop quiz?” (Darn it, I should have bought the Cliffs Notes.)

How many times will Emma, the cafeteria lady, say the phrase, “Hey, boys, you get one or the other. You get one or the other?” (Thank goodness she was only referring to the dessert choice between the cherry cobbler and the peaches. Speaking of cafeteria food, did you ever wonder what those black grill lines were on our hamburgers? We didn’t even have a flame grill at school. Was that magic marker I tasted?)

Even though the temperature is 90 degrees outside, will Alan Teague still be wearing his Members Only jacket?

Will Teri Barrett and Tara Farris still laugh at my corny jokes this year? “You’re so funny, Stephen!” (I don’t know if they were laughing with me or just at me. If I had to guess, it basically was laughing at me.)

What the heck is a “Weepul” anyway? Whose stupid idea was that? (Oh yeah, that was mine. Sorry, everybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time.)

Is Maria Goodson still in Greece… again?

Hey, since my buddy Greg Morgan’s picture appeared in Teen magazine over the summer, what impact will that have in improving my social life with the Swingerettes? (Answer: absolutely none!)

Why did Miss Jean Chretien pick the same knit shirts for the tennis team that the Swingerettes wore? My guess is that there must have been a Blue Light Special at the Slidell Kmart. My second thought about the shirts was: I wonder if anyone at school will notice. (Answer: yes, they did. I vividly remember the screeching voice of Tim Dennis yelling behind me, “Hey, Parsons, what’s up with those shirts. Man, that sucks!”)

Is Bill Herbert going to throw another Big Blowout Party? (The only thing I remember about Bill’s party is that Tommy Cason, Shannon Mooney, Greg Morgan, and I got there early before the party officially started and drank all of his beer. Hey, at least we had fun. Hey Bill, kick up that Violent Femmes song, “Why can’t I get just one…”)

Will Brett Haaga jump around and dance like Pee Wee Herman this year? (Answer: you bet your tequila he will!)

Will stern-faced math teacher Mrs. Seale ever crack a smile? (Answer: definitely not!)

I wonder what our Senior Play is going to be. Man, I hope it’s not Oklahoma. I want to be a knife wielding Jet from West Side Story. (Oh well, I guess the corn truly is as high as an elephant’s eye.)

What kind of name is “Zeke” anyway?

Is this the year that Chris Bell actually takes off his “Top Gun” shades?

Will Karen Daniels actually make eye contact with me and call me by my first name? (I think she once looked at me and said, “Hi, Stan.” Hey, that’s close enough; “Hi” right back at you, Karen.)

How many times will Mr. Trygg lick the chalkboard and scream out, “Here come the Lunch People?” (Hey, didn’t I last see him stumbling out of Diego’s during “Drinkin’ with Lincoln?”)

Is this the year that Charles Holmes will finally grow a full beard?

Will I need a French interpreter to tell me what in the world Marty Bech is talking about?

How many times will Michelle Thomas call me “C-Stud?” (I’m afraid to ask what the C actually stood for.)

Hey, I think I will try out a new nickname for Abby Lindsay this year, “Abbster.” (Maybe I should have gone with “The Abbinator.”)