NOTES FROM SCHOOL

Several days ago I engaged in a goofy Facebook conversation with an old high school friend, Myra, that began with a picture of her playing the organ 30+ years ago or so and soon degenerated into laughing about our girls chorus dresses from the mid 1960s. They were a regular piece of something that no girl today would ever step foot in....and no modern mother would agree to make them like our good ol' moms sure did so we wouldn't flunk the class.

Dress description as demanded by Mrs. Walton, our music teacher: light blue and white gingham checked shirt-waist with full skirt, front buttons, short sleeves, belted with the same material. Ten cross-stitch embroidered half notes, about 9 inches high, spread all around the bottom of skirt and two joined half notes at top left shoulder, about 4" by 4." Add short white gloves and painful high heels. What a vision.

My mother, who, at the time, was trying to work full-time, get two kids through college, and cope with three brats still at home, had no choice. Make the damned dress. And why, you ask, couldn't I make the dress myself and spare her all the pain and suffering? Because if I had been left with the task, I would STILL be working on it to this day. And it wouldn't even look like a dress. It would look like a wad of material with embroidery thread stuck to it.

So Mama Bore, with much complaining, made the stupid dress, which to Myra's amazement, I still have. I dragged it out of the closet so I could take a picture for Myra since she'd sort of forgotten what the dress looked like. Big Bore instantly got excited and wanted me to try it on since he never sees me in anything but sweatpants, but I told him that getting it buttoned over my not-so-high schoolish chest would be an impossibility. And if, for some strange reason, I could force the buttons closed then breathing would be out of the question.

"Why do you still have that dress?" Myra asked, wondering if my sanity was a bit shakey.

"I guess because Mom worked so hard on it." It's not like I was ever going to wear it again, that's for sure.

We tried to think of how to put the dress to better use, rather than just gathering dust and wrinkles in my closet. She thought maybe I could cut out the notes and frame them. Or make a tablecloth. Or incorporate the notes into a quilted wall hanging. I'm going to check the Internet to see if there is a high school music museum somewhere that could take it off my hands. Maybe the cast of "Glee" could use it for a retro production.

If you have any suggestions, short of cutting the dress into cleaning rags or burning it at the stake, let me know and I'll make note of them.