Pomp and Circumstance by Jenn McKinlay

 JENN McKINLAY: When I dropped Hooligan 2 off at Kindergarten way back in 2008, I had no idea the next thirteen years would whip by at the speed of light. H2 was a little league playing, skateboard riding, Avatar (the cartoon)-loving scamp and I swear I blinked -- for a nanosecond -- and now he’s taller than me, is bi-literate (Eng/Span), and a complete gym rat fitness nut -- no, we have no idea where he came from. Thankfully, he gets to have an actual graduation ceremony with limited seating -- unlike the poor graduates last year -- so Hub and I will be in the stadium bleachers this Thursday night to clap and cheer as he strides across the stage to get his diploma like his brother did two years ago. 

The graduation ceremony hasn’t changed much since I received my diploma -- many, many years ago. It’s the same awkward shuffle march to Pomp and Circumstance, it’s hot, the seats are hard, a baby is always crying, the speeches are long, and your hands get tired of clapping after graduate one hundred and one, still, you soldier on because it’s a magical moment. There is something about witnessing the turning of the tassel, as the students move it from right to left that gets me every time. Seriously, it’s a sob fest.

As for my own graduation, I remember being so thrilled to be an adult -- finally! I think I thought I’d wake up the next day a completely different person. I did not. Instead, I nursed a mild hangover (no, I was not of age) while I put on my fabulous polyester uniform and headed to my part-time gig at  Friendly’s to dish ice cream to rambunctious grade schoolers while chatting with my friends. Still, I was a graduate and that felt pretty amazing. College was months away and we had a whole summer to be free. Kind of wish I could relive that summer all over again, you know? 

Jenn (center) with Diane (L) and Cindy (R).

How about you Reds? What are your special (or not) memories of high school graduation?   

LUCY BURDETTE: Jenn, congrats to you and your hub for raising such interesting young men! I don’t remember a lot of detail about my high school graduation, except for the singing. This was the peak of my musical career, singing with the prestigious high school chorale. (I am what’s called a ‘leaning alto’, meaning don’t even think about asking me to sing in a quartet or as a solo. I think I was included based on personality and persistence.) We had bonded so closely and it was definitely bittersweet to be saying goodbye. Picture is of me with our chorale director, Al Dorhout. We adored him!

Lucy with Mr. Dorhout

JENN: Mr. D. had righteous sideburns, Lucy!

HALLIE EPHRON: I remember… just about nothing at all. What I wore, yes - but only because I have a picture of me and my mother after. The photo my parents took from their seats of me, supposedly walking across to get my diploma, are basically of the backs of the heads of people sitting in front of them. Who spoke? No idea. I was so ready to be on a plane out of there, on to another coast and a start-over-from-scratch with new friends in a big city. 

Hallie's graduation

JENN: Hallie you look beautiful! So classy!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Oops, I didn't graduate from high school. I dropped out at sixteen, eventually got my GED, went to college(s). So no cap and gown, no prom. I did graduate from college however, and I mostly remember how hot it was that day--the ceremony was outside--and I was sweltering under the gown. I have no idea who spoke. My hair was really short and in the photos my shoes looked ridiculously clunky. But even that graduation was almost a year after I'd actually finished my degree in the summer, so I didn't even get to graduate with my classmates.  But I had been to England for the first time the previous September, and all I could think about was getting back and traveling as much as I could on my own. I had already moved on. 

JENN: You are a force of nature, Debs! I love it!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Oh, yikes I have no memory of this. Except  for one. (Backstory: I had spent much of my senior year in Germany, and did NOT want to come home, and my mother forced me to return for the last semester of senior year. I was not in the flow, not at all, so there was no camaraderie or sentimentality about it. I just wanted it all to be over so I could be in the world and do real things.)  

Anyway.  School was over and classes were over, or course, done and  dusted. I had gotten a great dress for the ceremony--right out of Carnaby Street. A white lace mini-dress.  With white lace stockings and chunky shoes.

I loved it. (I probably looked like a big walking doily, but in my mind was Jean Shrimpton.)  So I showed up at the gym for the ceremony (Were my parents there? They must have been.) 

And the vice-principal took me aside and said “You have to go home and change. That skirt is too short.”

And I said: “What’re you going to do, expel me?”

He told me to put on the graduation gown and not take it off.

And that’s all I remember. So sad that there are no photos. But maybe it’s for the best.

Jean Shrimption shocks the world with hem four inches above the knee!
I can totally see our Hank looking just like this. Fabulous!

RHYS BOWEN:  Hank, you were as feisty as I was! But we had no graduation in England. We had prize day at which some of us got awards. But I do remember my college graduation—diploma presented by the Queen Mum and highlight of the day was that she recognized my dad. He exhibited every year at the British industries fair and the royals always came for a preview and chatted. She saw him as she walked down the aisle and gave him a big smile. Made his day!

JENN: Diploma from the Queen Mum! I'm gobsmacked!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Honestly, all my best graduations have been my kids' graduations. Here's what I recall from mine:

High school. Hot. We were seated alphabetically and I didn't know anyone around me (it was a class of about 450.) Gift: Electric typewriter with an erase cartridge so I didn't have to use Wite Out! Aw, yisss.

College: Hot. Raining, so we relocated into the gym, which smelled bad. Gift: Small black and white portable TV. Cool.

Grad school: Didn't go.

Law school: Hot. Beautiful setting, in the oldest church in Portland, ME, First Parish UU. Gift: Ross and I went out to dinner.

My kids' graduations were much better, because I didn't have to wear an uncomfortable polyester robe, I got to sit with people I knew, and, unlike when I was marching, I get hopelessly weepy the moment I hear the strains of Elgar's tune. When I was graduating (and it's true, I maybe overdid it) the ceremony was kind of a speed bump on my way to something bigger and better (or, in the case of law school, a summer cramming for the bar exam.) By the time I got to see my children graduate, I was old enough to really appreciate these moments that hinge yesterday and tomorrow in our lives.

JENN: I agree, Julia! The boys' graduations have been my faves, this is assuming Hooligan 2 doesn't burst into flames during finals this week and not graduate. Both my dudes are photo-finish graduates so the suspense has been INTENSE! Friday, I plan to nap! LOL.

What about you, Readers? What do you remember of your high school graduation?

Welcome Summer with the Perfect Pimms

 JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Once more, please welcome our own Celia Wakefield, today with some wonderful stories and her recipe for a perfect Pimms Cup.

 

I’m very happy to be back home with all the JRW clan (nod to Roberta), and writing about a subject that is dear to Julia and my hearts - L’heure bleue. That time when we stop and relax, preferably with a delicious drink. With our vaccinations done or shortly to be done, our l’heure bleue can include family and friends. Now that, my dear clan, gives me much joy. 

 

I don’t intend to drag on about our last fifteen months. Enough said and while the pandemic is hopefully a once in a lifetime experience, and will linger long in memory, it is time to embrace each other without the aid of Zoom. For most of us, that embrace will include something to eat and something to drink. Rather like Alice, we can choose our poison. Here by the lakeside we drink Pimms in the summer. Well that is I drink Pimms, Julia drinks Pimms, my daughter Olivia drinks Pimms and I share my Pimms with close friends who will appreciate it. I know that Pimms is not for everyone. Victor doesn’t usually drink Pimms.

 

Well, you may say, why Pimms and why in the summer In England? Well, with help from that web thing, I found out that Pimms was invented by James Pimms in 1823. Pimms grew up a farmers son in the County of Kent with which I have many ties, including boarding school, where we would have never been allowed to drink Pimms. James (one can overuse Pimms), owned an oyster bar in the City of London, he developed his ‘tonic’ with a gin base, - “Gin was mothers milk to her”, or “penny a glass, dead drunk for tuppence”, then added herbs and sold it as a health tonic. The actual recipe is still kept a deep, dark secret, but now includes fruit too.

 

It appears that I had to leave England for the drink to become so popular. Julia was in London in the ’80’s and remembers its popularity then. However when I went to Wimbledon in the ’60’s, what we wanted were strawberries and cream. 

 

I don’t remember what I drank at Henley; I was a guest of my best friend Helen’s parents, and dressed in my summer best including a gorgeous pair of while Kurt Geiger high heels, I was freezing all day. Lunch was the traditional poached salmon with hollandaise sauce, new potatoes and salad, and that was cold too. Whatever the weather, tradition is not just observed in the village of Anatevka, it is alive and well in England, which may mean freezing in the summer but dressed to enhance the occasion.

 

My introduction to Pimms came at the home of the same Helen. We met at boarding school and lived close enough in the holidays to get together then. Imagine a beautiful summer’s afternoon in the garden, Helen and I stretched out on rugs catching some rays and Mr. Plutte, Helen’s father, bringing us Pimms to drink. It was love at first taste. 

 

I don’t think I probably had the opportunity to drink Pimms when I was working in London as I really didn’t run with a high society crowd. Boys were willing to shell out for beer but anything more exotic? No, though I do remember after work  parties in the local, when I moved up to corporate life where spirits were always bought for one.

 

Ah me, now when I drink in the summer I do enjoy a Pimms, and I make it differently from any of the  263,000 recommendations from Google. I don’t always measure, but for this recipe I have done so. But first some explanation of the why mine is different. I add spirits to the Pimms mix, along with the measure of Pimms and I top it with Schweppes Tonic Water. 

 

 

 

For a garnish, I like cucumber first; the smell really enhances that first sip. Other than some wines is there any drink not enhanced with a slice of lemon or lime, so let’s add that too. Finally, fresh mint, preferably just picked mint which is why I try to grow mint each year. The mint in the photos was picked maybe twenty minutes before we started shooting.

 

Again, there are recipes with enough cut fruit that one might as well be eating fruit salad. Pimms is a drink, it should be treated as one. Now a note about your mix choice. You will see recipes with lemonade, soda water, ginger ale etc. this is a personal choice. My only caution is please don’t use *diet sodas, they will ruin the taste. For me tonic fits the bill and I like Schweppes.

 

 

 

Our l’heure bleue would not be complete without some tasty nibbles. The display on the table is an English cheddar served of course, with Carrs water biscuits, cornichions to add the bitter, some fresh strawberries in my Wimbledon strawberry bowl, yes, bought at Wimbledon, and the most delicious cookies from a local friend, Samantha Jane Melton, who has started her own commercial baking business. I don’t know if she is shipping yet but those chocolate crumbles, and lemon delights are to die for, and I know my cookies. You can order on her web site, Samantha Jane's Treats, if you want to indulge or send a gift. I know I’ve eaten too many tonight.

 

Finally, here is the recipe and a hearty Cheers to you all:

 

Into a 14 oz glass

Put 5-6 ice cubes

Take a 4 Tablespoon measure (I use a shot glass)

Pour to the top a measure of gin or vodka and pour over the ice

Repeat with a measure of Pimms #1 Cup

Fill with Schweppes tonic water* see above

Add Garnishes, cucumber, lemon, lime, mint, strawberry half etc. to choice

 

She Was Made For The Straight Aways

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: A girl and her car is a beautiful thing. My first bought-it-myself car was a Saab that had about eleventy hundred miles on it and holes in the floor that had to be covered by heavy rubber mats in the wintertime. It wasn't anywhere near as nice as the first car I got to drive regularly, which was my brand-new husband's brand-new 1985 Mazda RX-7, with the headlights that popped open at the touch of a button and a rotary engine so powerful that the third generation, introduced in 1997, is banned for street driving in the US. (Not even kidding.) 

 

It was a sweet ride, but the rusty old Saab was mine, and, as it turned out, the first and last car I didn't have to put a baby seat (or a kid) into. 

 

My two girls have recently gone through their own vehicular rites of passage. The Maine Millennial, who has owned, shall we say, well-used cars over the past few years, was finally in the position to upgrade when her last Subaru went to that great garage in the sky. She got a 2017 Hyundai Elantra in an eye-popping shade of electric blue, with all the bells and whistles.

 

Meanwhile - really, within a week of her sister - Youngest, who had a looong journey toward getting her driver's license, got her first car, a 2002 Honda CRV (only 179,000 miles!) generously passed on to her by my sister and brother-in-law. This has lead to several life improvements for Youngest: she's been able to sign a lease on an apartment fourteen miles from the University of Maine (and thus better than your average student digs) and she can ride around in style with her Shih tzu, Buddy, who has his own special car seat. It's led to one enormous life improvement for me, namely, I don't have to make the three hundred mile round trip to Orono, ME, every time Youngest has a dental appointment/doctor's visit/political rally in the Portland area.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm very happy with my supremely sensible Honda Accord, but I do love to see my daughters rejoice in their "new" cars. I know they're vehicles they will always have special place in their hearts.  

 

So, Reds, what are the special cars that you have fond memories of? 

 

RHYS BOWEN: I wouldn’t call them FOND memories, but my first car made a big impression. In England, of course, you don’t take your driving test until you are 18. I bought my first car with money from my twenty-first birthday. It was a little red Fiat 500--a toppolino, used, of course. It looked really cute, but it was a nightmare. It would cut out at the worst times. Driving through the Peak District it cut out at the top of a hill. I coasted for miles downhill and luckily  crawled into a service station before it stopped. It started by yanking on a little pull thingie, which came off in my hand one day. Luckily my friend Roger was great with cars and fixed it numerous times.  

The added stupidity was that I was working for the BBC and living behind Oxford Street! That meant if I found a parking space I didn’t dare move the car for days. It was a happy day when I sold it.

 

LUCY BURDETTE: The one I remember fondly was a Dodge Dart, a two-door sedan with a slant-six engine. It was canary yellow on the bottom, with a black hardtop and black upholstery and steering wheel. I loved it! Until my husband and I moved to Florida. Black baking in the sun equals burned thighs and palms every time.

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: SO snazzy, Roberta!  My first car was a Chevrolet Vega, and it was butterscotch yellow with camel leather interior. I thought it was gorgeous, but I mean, it was a Vega. How gorgeous could that even be? But my father made me buy it myself and handle all the negotiations. I think I was 18.  

And he said: Do NOT pay for the title or taxes. THEY have to pay that. And if you can’t negotiate that, I won’t buy you the car.

So I was absolutely firm. No matter what the dealer said, I said: I am NOT paying title and taxes, you have to pay that. And if you make me pay it, I’m not buying the car.

We argued and argued, and finally I said--I’m walking out. And they finally agreed.

I told my father afterward, all proud of myself.

He gasped. And said: I never said TAXES! I said TAGS. You have to pay the taxes, for gosh sake.

I said: Well, not this time.

 

HALLIE EPHRON: My first car was a convertible Chevy Impala, chocolate brown with butterscotch leather seats… first cousin to Hank’s. I brought an older male friend with me to buy it, knowing I’d be way out of my depth. I loved that car, owned it for 2 years until I graduated. After high school I lived in Manhattan for 8 years - a person living in NYC needs a car like a fish needs a bicycle… to quote the adage. When we moved to the Boston area, we bought a Pinto station wagon. TERRIBLE car. TERRIBLE experience buying it. I still can’t believe that 5 years later when the Pinto died we went back to that same dealer and bought a Ford Escort station wagon. Another terrible car that didn’t make it past 75K. Fords: feh.

 

JENN McKINLAY: My Pontiac Grand Am coupe, merlot red, with a moonroof, and fully loaded stereo. It was my college grad gift from my parents. I LOVED that car. It died after ten years of spontaneous road trips, four big moves, three boyfriends, and 170K miles. I still miss her. 

 

DEBORAH CROMBIE: My first car was a used ‘65 silver Thunderbird--and yes, that is my favorite Marc Cohn song!! Power everything, black leather interior, it was gorgeous and probably worth a mint now. I had it a couple of years and then my dad traded it, no idea why except that he loved to do car deals.

 

But the car of my heart was my 1970 Datsun 240z, used, of course, in burnt orange. I loved that car. I had to give it up when I moved to England. My dad promised me he wouldn’t sell it, but he did. I never quite got over my broken heart. I did drive a red Honda Prelude for a couple of years, much later on, and that was a much better car but nothing ever quite replaced the Z.

 

JULIA: Grand Ams, Thunderbirds, and leather seats - we have some stylin' drivers in this group. How about you, dear readers? Did you have a car that made your heart go vroooom?

Oh and as for the title of this blog: "She was made for the straight aways/ Grew up hating Chevrolets/ She's a rocket; she was made to burn."