Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee STP 26 ver Q 7/7/2014 5:59 AM By Peregrinf

   When the class marched forth to the strains of Elgar's "Pomp and
Circumstance" the valedictorian, salutatorian, some Very Important People
and me proceeded to the temporary stage on the football field's fifty yard
line.  My classmates took to the folding chairs on the field to receive
inspirational words from on high, while I was stuck rubbing shoulders with
the stuffed shirts.

   Oh, except for Valedictorian Meredith Witherspoon and Salutatorian
Dennis O'Brien, on stage to deliver their addresses, of course.

   I'd been shanghaied by Mrs.  Devers at the virtual last minute, for
reasons known only to her, separated from my classmates.

   Rather than offer my naked fanny as a burnt offering I spread my towel
double-thickness on the sun-baked chair.

   Yeah, I was naked.  Perhaps it was retribution for my suggestion we
graduate naked.

   After all, I'd pointed out, we were the first class in Central High
history to have 100% Program participation.  The idea was swiftly shot
down. Sacrifice wearing those cool scarlet and gold caps and gowns?  You
gotta be kidding!

   So now I was a splotch of pink at the far end of the line of speakers
and I had no idea what I was expected to say.  When Mrs.  Devers had pulled
me aside at the last minute and divested me of my golden robe -- leaving me
in only my mortarboard and flats -- she'd told me they wanted me on the
stage to represent The Program, so it was only appropriate I be naked.

   Oh, yeah.  I'd been naked under the robe.  What else would you expect?

   I asked her what I should say and all she said was, "Oh I'm sure you'll
think of something."

   What goes around comes around.  As freshman chair of SACNISP at the
dedication of the Spirit of Central High statue I'd ad libbed my speech.  I
should have known that would eventually bite me in the butt.  Now, here I
was again, naked among the clothed, with not an idea in my head.

   At least I found some comfort in the number of naked bodies scattered
among the spectators in the stands.  Infiltrating local churches and
speaking at civic meetings had spread the news of The Program's benefits,
opening peoples' minds, while our uninhibited outreach had gotten the
public acclimatized to naked teenage skin, be it on the streets, in
fast-food joints, shops or at the movies.

   Of course some opponents are still with us.  It's like athlete's foot.
We just deal with it.

   I wondered if public nudity might eventually become so common that the
whole Naked in School Program became obsolete.  I really hope not, because
adolescence is such a special time for us to learn to live with our bodies,
and school offers the supervised environment that's really needed.

   Anyway, I'd prefer to be down with my classmates rather than rubbing
shoulders with the stuffed shirts.  Meredith and Dennis clutched carefully
crafted speeches in sweating hands.  They had worked hard to earn a spot up
here.  Someone -- probably Devers -- had decided to thrust greatness upon
me.  A late addition, my name was not on the program, so I assumed I was
the subject of Mrs.  Devers's Special Presentation, to be delivered after
the diplomas are handed out.

   How badly will I be embarrassed?

   The Methodist church's carillon chiming over the chattering crowd was
the signal to open the proceedings.  As the single deep BONG of 1 PM died
away, Pastor Jeff stepped up to the podium and stood there in the sun, just
stood there, still and calm.  He's only about five-foot-eight, good-looking
but not imposing, soft-spoken.

   Even so, that's all it took.  Without him uttering a word the crowd went
silent.  In moments the loudest sounds were the crying of a baby, the
scolding of a jay.  Since the Church of Christ the Teacher had risen from
the metaphorical ashes of The Restored Temple of the Holy Redeemer Reformed
Evangelical One True Church, Pastor Jeff's quiet preaching had earned more
respect than Pistor Paul's ranting had ever gotten.  Adoration?  Yes, Paul
had sucked that out of his flock along with their money, and other things,
but not true respect.

   "Listen," Pastor Jeff said softly, letting the PA system float that
single word out across the field.  He has a nice voice.

   The class had asked Pastor Jeff to say a few words because we were sure
he would be non-sectarian enough to avoid giving offense.  The Supreme
Court had put an end to invocations back in the 1990s.  This was an
Introduction.

   A rose by any other name, I thought.  I'd be surprised if god, big G or
small, was mentioned.

   "Listen," he repeated after letting the silence speak for itself.

   We listened.  A single shout of "Kill the Program" broke the silence. 
It was probably the same moron who yelled "Get in the hole!" every time
Tiger swung a club.

   "Don't shout," Pastor Jeff gently scolded.  "If you're shouting you're
not listening.

   "Listen, and in the quietude you may just hear the voice of God, while
others will stand in awe of the vastness of the universe."

   Oops!  I don't think that was in his original script.  Oh well.

   Somewhere a horn honked.

   "And some will just be annoyed by the traffic," he added wryly,
triggering a laugh.

   "Listen to yourself," he went on, regaining his stride.  "Listen to each
other.  Listen to the world."

   A few birds twittered, a crow cawed.  We listened.

   "Listen not only with your ears but with your mind and with your heart."


   The whole world seemed to be listening, but I had the feeling he was
talking mainly to us soon-to-be graduates.

   "Listen, and who knows what you may hear."

   I heard my own pulse.

   "Listen, for the answers are within you."

   Instead of herding us into a chute to be fleeced, Pastor Jeff was
opening the stockade gate, offering us all possible paths to choose from.

   "As you go forward from here, remember to listen, and let what you hear
in the silence guide your thoughts and your steps.

   "Listen," he concluded before he stepped away.

   A sigh went through the crowd as we began to breathe again.

   Hard as I tried not to I squirmed.  Sitting there in full view was a
strain.  I couldn't pick my nose, and being naked decorum demanded that I
be careful arranging my long legs.  Adding to my discomfort, I was clueless
of what was expected of me.

   Ah me.  Four years of sweat and strain comes down to this and I'm still
making stuff up as I go along.

   After some words of welcome by our Principal, Mrs.  Devers took over as
Master of Ceremonies.  Meredith and Dennis, after thanking everyone but
their hairdressers, gave stirring calls to action mixed with self-conscious
anecdotes.

   They looked smashing in their robes!  Without mine I probably look
smashed.

   Following them the various dignitaries exhorted us to face the future
boldly.  They looked hot in their suits and ties.  Only the football coach
had an open collar and no jacket as he gave his pep talk.  His shirt was
sweaty.

   Naturally my mind wandered.  I scanned the gathering before me, picking
out the faces of my friends and acquaintances.  There was Fran, big, bold,
brassy Fran, heart as gold as the robe she wore; Inez, about to set off on
her pre-med pursuit; and dear, sweet Missy, my former lover and forever
friend.  We'll have one last summer together and then I will miss her
desperately.  She's grown, matured into a beautiful young woman, the image
of her mother, without the sharp edges.

   But then, events have worn away Mrs.  Wilson's sharp edges.  Missy's mom
seems more comfortable in her skin now -- and no, I don't mean she's naked.
She hasn't loosened up that much, though she and Missy certainly get along
better.  As an active member of The Church of Christ the Teacher Mrs. 
Wilson organizes the Sunday School, runs the soup kitchen and chairs the
Family Support committee.

   Busy hands are happy hands.

   There was Peggy Hughes, who I'd held in my arms and comforted in her
bath as she fought her way back from her nightmare encounter with the Worm.
Even after years of counseling she still shies away from physical contact.

   "The evil that men do lives after them," I murmured to myself.

   Huh?  The Stick asked, roused by my sub-vocalization.

   Oh, you're awake are you?  It's from Shakespeare.  Mark Antony says it
in his eulogy to Julius Caesar.  Did it ever occur to you that Antony was
referring to the damage that Caesar had left behind?

   What brought that on?

   I was thinking of the Worm, not that he was any Caesar, but the damage
he did to some people will last a lifetime.

   The good is oft interred with their bones, so let it be with
Worthington, I concluded.

   I'll be damned.

   You probably will be if we don't come up with some talking points for
me.

   Okay, okay.  I'll work on it.  But it's kinda hard, not knowing what The
Devil's going to say.

   If you're referring to Devers, please don't call her that.  She's one of
the people I love, remember.

   One of many!

   Don't be snide.  You seem to feel the same way.

   Well after all, we are of one body.

   But obviously of two minds.  Keep thinking.

   I scanned the families and friends further back.  There was Heather
McKenzie with Matt Mozilla beside her, the odd couple of Central High. 
Nice of them to come to see us off.  We'd only been lowly frosh the year
they graduated.  They were both home from their respective colleges, Matt's
at Harvard, of course, while Heather's at state.  She's another recovering
victim of our late, unlamented former NiS Program Coordinator.

   There were other victims in the crowd, some I knew of, others nobody
knew of, who'll carry their pain to their graves.  That perv had done an
amazing amount of damage in the short time he'd been Program Coordinator.

   At least there was some justice in the world, the Worm having met his
sorry fate in prison, allegedly a suicide.  When I heard the news I tried
to muster some sympathy, maybe a touch of guilt for having put him there,
but I wasn't very successful.  I admit I have a vengeful streak, but thanks
to Ms.  Andrews -- also among the spectators --I've learned to control it.

   The Worm was only the first I sent to jail for his peccadilloes, and
incidentally he was a lone abuser.  No connection was ever established
between him and the pedo-cooperative that Pastor Paul had run out of his
church.  The Pistor is now doing his preaching behind bars.  If there's any
justice he may yet wind up as the Worm has.

   The aftershocks from the collapse of his Restored Temple of the Holy
Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church are still being felt.  The
cases against the syndicate that used the church as a front for their own
larcenous dealings are slowly working their way through the Federal court
system, where justice grinds more slowly.  Something to do with mountains
of motions filed by lawyers earning six-figure incomes.

   And no, I have not been within miles of any courtroom where any of those
cases are being heard.  I may not know what I'm going to be when I grow up
but I know it's not a lawyer.

   When you grow up?  You're already six-foot-two!  Isn't that enough?

   Wise ass!  I'm thinking metaphorically again.  You getting anywhere with
my remarks?  There's only two more speakers before they start handing out
diplomas!

   Working on it, so shut up, you're distracting me.

   Shutting up, I responded, thinking that was a first.  Usually I was
trying to shut her up.

   I had no trouble picking Lance out of the crowd, of course, and that
reminded me of the Graduation Balls coming up tomorrow.  Yum!

   The district's high schools graduate on consecutive days so no one has
to choose between this graduation and that, but all the Graduation Balls
are held the following Saturday, with shuttle buses for cross-pollination
while minimizing the DWI rate.  Lance and I will split our time between our
two dances, doubling the pleasure and the fun.  Then Stephanie is hosting
an invitation-only all-night party, a joint mini-reunion/graduation
celebration.  Considering that Carl and Beth will be there, with Kathy and
Steph, and others, including undergraduates, who knows what may happen.

   Lance's eyes were on me, so I gave him a grin and a quick flash of my
honey pot, just a flash, opening and closing my legs, feeling myself get
all hot and gooey inside as I did.  As much as I've been naked over the
last four years I still get a thrill out of it.  The sun is warm on my
flesh, the gentle breeze sucks at my nipples, the thought of the party
combined with that little flash I'd given made me ooze.

   In the distance was the media, corralled in an effort to maintain an air
of dignity to the proceedings.  I could feel the telephoto lenses on me. 
No way would they miss my display.  Even with all the photo ops, The
Program offers new shots of adolescent skin that still boost ratings and
readership.

   Of my first real boyfriend there's no sign.  My diving debacle had sent
Greg off to train for the Olympics without me, his family trailing in his
wake, drawn by seductive promises of medals and glory.  I'd felt badly when
he missed the Olympic team on his first try.  The latest report said he was
going to go to U of Michigan to try to catch the brass ring on the next
go-around.  I wished him well, and wondered how his little sister Drindy is
doing, if she's still experimenting with her hair colors, that she's not
getting left in the dust of his pursuit of glory.  I hoped wherever she was
they had a good NiS Program and that she was taking advantage of it.

   I'd gained a new perspective on my brother's seemingly unsympathetic
reaction to my diving accident.  Painful as it had been, physically and
romantically, given Greg's challenges I was lucky it had happened.

   I wouldn't have met Lance, for example.

   Perhaps things would have turned out differently if Greg and I had
stayed a couple, trained together, but in spite of what the agents and
coaches said there are no guarantees of fame and stardom.  Even if we both
had made the Olympics -- and the odds of that weren't great -- what were
the chances we'd have medalled?  As it is I have a much broader future
ahead of me this way than I'd have spending my prime learning years as an
Olympian in training.

   Hey, let's pay attention.  They're finally passing out the diplomas.

   It's alphabetical, so we still have a little time.

   I could use a little help here.

   So my alter ego and I tossed ideas back and forth as the sheepskins were
handed out -- and no, you PETA people, that's a metaphor, no sheep were
sacrificed in service to the ceremony -- interrupted by bursts of applause,
hoots, squeals and cheers in spite of the request in the program that
demonstrations be held to the end.

   By the time they got up to the Ts The Stick and I had hitched enough
ideas together to provide a decent train of thought.  I was about to attach
the caboose when my turn drew close so I mentally parked everything on a
siding.  Being already on stage I assumed I'd simply slip into the line of
grads when the Registrar called my name.  Missy even paused to leave me a
gap.

   Then Mrs.  Devers's hand on my shoulder pinned me to my seat.  I hadn't
noticed her coming up behind me and almost jumped out of my skin.  A
reassuring squeeze to my deltoid kept me from a full-bore-linear panic.

   With a sympathetic smile and shrug Missy stepped up and the line moved
on.

   I'd been left out!

   Completely!!

   No diploma?

   W.T.F!  The Stick wailed.

   You got me!

   I wanna graduate!  I wanna graduate!

   She was practically throwing a tantrum!  We'd been working toward this
for four years, after all.

   STUFF IT!  I told her sternly.  I'm sure we will.  We've fulfilled all
the requirements, and then some!

   I shot a look in my Moms' direction, but they looked as baffled as I
felt.

   So I was left sitting there like a fool while the rest of my class filed
past, accepting diplomas and handshakes and words of congratulation before
returning to their seats.  Alone at stage left I stuck out even more than I
had.  I was like a sore thumb, a naked pink sore thumb, a very tall naked
pink sore thumb.

   It was as naked as I'd ever felt in my life.

   At that moment I wanted to melt down into a steaming puddle.  My
carefully assembled extemporaneous speech was a train wreck.

   With a comforting touch Mrs.  Devers moved to take over at the podium.
The rest of the dignitaries were still on their feet, obviously in on the
plot, probably enjoying my predicament in view of our often contentious
relationship.  I got the feeling that everyone was in on this but me.

   "Ladies and gentlemen, as you're presumably aware, the last four years
at Central High have been remarkably eventful with respect to The Naked in
School Program.  It came to our attention that The Program itself demands
recognition as an important facet of Central High's curriculum, as much so
as athletics, artistry, musicianship or academics.

   "So this year we're inaugurating a new award, to be given to the
graduating senior who, in our opinion, has had the greatest influence on
The Program over the course of his or her time here.

   Uh oh.  Here it comes.

   Do tell!

   "It will be bestowed only when, in the unanimous opinion of the faculty,
an individual's actions have earned that recognition.

   "There was absolutely no question in our minds as to who should be the
first to receive this award.  As the administrator who knows her best I am
honored to have the opportunity to make this presentation.

   "This young woman really stands out -- other than because of her height
-- for her initiative, courage and activism in support of the Naked in
School Program.  Her energetic efforts and leadership have made the Naked
in School Program an integral part of student, faculty, and staff life in
Central High, while gaining solid support for it from the community at
large.  It is those efforts we are happy to recognize today."

   Oh yeah!

   "But let me get the bureaucratic formalities out of the way before we
move on.  Ladies and gentlemen, Diane Elizabeth Walker."

   She beckoned to me and I somehow managed to get my long legs functional
enough to totter forward against a solid wave of applause, more aware than
ever of how naked I was.

   She picked up the last diploma from the table by the podium where all
the others had been stacked.  "Diane Elizabeth Walker, it gives me great
pleasure to present you with this diploma certifying your successful
completion of the course of study required to qualify you as a high school
graduate, with highest honors, from Central High School.  Congratulations."


   Cameras clicked and peeped like a chorus of crickets, even among my
classmates in their seats below.

   I managed a sort of a fumbled bow and curtsey to acknowledge the
enthusiastic ovation as I admired the leatherette folder and its contents.
Steadying me by my naked shoulders Mrs.  Devers carefully and discretely
kissed my cheeks before sending me on my way to make the rounds of the
dignitaries, shaking hands, accept their congratulations and more
air-kisses.

   Except for the Meredith and Dennis.  To my surprise they shed their
robes, revealing they were naked, and unabashedly treated me to Program
hugs, skin-to-skin contact that puckered nipples, stirred our libidos and
triggered a salute from the Salutatorian's endowment, his hot dog
depositing a smear on my tummy.

   More cameras captured the moment.

   Oh my.

   Those formalities dealt with, fleeing in terror not being an option, I
braced myself for what was to come.  Dennis and Meredith took the
opportunity to slip their robes back on.  I wondered how many of my
classmates were similarly nude beneath their graduation gowns.  Lord knows
it was a warm day, but that wasn't the only reason I was sweating.

   Mrs.  Devers beckoned me back over to the podium.

   "Before Dee arrived at Central High I'd been alerted by a source in
middle school that the smartest thing I could do was try to harness Dee's
energy and leadership abilities as quickly as possible.  I believe the
expression used was to lasso this bolt of lightning."

   I blushed through a wave of laughter and applause.

   Sounds like Ms.  Andrews told tales out of school.

   Yeah, but I don't suppose she revealed anything confidential.  Jeez
there are some long lenses on the professional's cameras!  I'm glad I've
outgrown the zit stage.

   Mrs.  Devers went on, drawing out my torture.  "I didn't have to wait
long.  Early in Dee's second week she came to my office, naked.  Accused of
insubordination, she had meekly accepted her so-called punishment.

   "Well no, that's not right.  There's nothing meek about Dee.  And I said
'so-called' because, as she admitted to me at the time, putting Dee in The
Program is akin to throwing Brer Rabbit in the briar patch."

   Chuckles from the audience.

   "She wanted to discuss some concerns she had about The Program and how
it was administered.  As many of you undoubtedly know, Dee isn't any more
shy about offering her opinions than she is about exposing her body."

   That got a laugh.

   "But, as an example, she challenged the policy of using The Program for
discipline when Naked in School was supposed to be a positive experience.

   "I could only acknowledge that her reasoning was sound, but saw no
viable alternatives.  She felt it could be worked out, and I welcomed her
input.  At the time I had my own concerns about the future of The Program,
but did not realize how deep the problems ran.

   "Out of that meeting came the Student Advisory Committee on the Naked in
School Program, SACNISP, which Dee wound up chairing, and never mind she
was only a freshman."

   "Only because nobody else wanted the job," I muttered under my breath,
but the microphones apparently picked it up, because there was a ripple of
laughter.

   "Willing or not, under her leadership SACNISP became a vital force.  She
guided The Program through its most tumultuous and trying times ever.  It's
no exaggeration to say that without her efforts Naked in School might have
died.  There were forces at work both inside and outside the school and The
Program's bureaucratic hierarchy that threatened to destroy it, one of them
within administration of The Program itself.

   "Before the committee was even names on a piece of paper, before SACNISP
became an acronym, Dee put herself on the line to deal with that particular
worm in the apple."

   Suppressing a snort of surprise I shot her a look at her choice of
words, but she went blandly on.

   "That settled, at its first meeting the committee selected her as Chair
and Dee started things rolling.  The mildest challenge she took on was
simple bureaucratic inertia.  Often -- usually, in fact -- her tactics for
addressing any problems are innovative, as in this case.

   "Prior to a meeting of the Board of Education, when a budgetary dispute
prevented issuing towels for Program participants to sit on, Dee flooded
the board's chairs with aloe gel.  When they sat down -- and very quickly
stood up again -- she explained that this was an example of what Program
participants, and the students who followed in the same seat, dealt with
every day.

   "As she put it to the board, 'We girls leak, and sometimes the boys do,
too.'"

   That got more laughs.

   "Needless to say the kids got their towels."

   That brought a wave of laughter and applause, while I squirmed and
shuffled my feet.  I saw Albert Wilson -- Chair of the Board of Ed and no
relation to Missy -- flush and chuckle at the memory as well.  Was that a
forgiving smile sent in my direction?

   "As I said, The Program was also in trouble outside school," Mrs. 
Devers went on.  "Many opponents were motivated by sincere religious
beliefs.  Others had less honorable intentions.  None of them really
understood what The Program was all about, what its goals were and the
benefits it brought to the students, the school, the community as a whole
and to society in general.

   "While legal authorities investigated outside-the-school opposition that
bordered on harassment, an outside group was deliberately transferring
students into Central High with instructions to disrupt The Program by
whatever means they wanted.  Dee swiftly countered that threat by
organizing Program veterans to protect new participants from what came to
be known as the fanny-pinchers."

   That drew some chuckles, which Mrs.  Devers promptly quashed.  "Which is
not as innocuous as the term implies, since it involved physical assaults
on Program participants.

   "Over time Dee also crafted a series of compromises which resulted in
The Program no longer being used for discipline other than under certain
limited circumstances, and always in a way that avoided humiliating anyone.
Steps were also taken to reduce the anxiety of students entering The
Program.  She initiated an active and effective outreach effort to explain
to the public at large what The Program meant to the participants taking
part and to the community at large.

   "As a result the Naked in School Program is now on firm footing both
within the school and throughout the community."

   The "applause" sign must have lit up again.

   "For that reason the school administration, staff and faculty, the
students and their parents, the community as a whole, are in debt to Dee
Walker."

   I bobbed my head to another embarrassing burst of applause.

   "As a symbol of our appreciation the administration, faculty and staff
of Central High, in association with the Parent Teacher Organization, wish
to present you with a replica of the statue The Spirit of Central High in
appreciation of your unstinting efforts on behalf of the Naked in School
Program in Central High School."

   From beneath the podium she extracted a foot high replica of the
beautiful statue that stood on the front lawn, the statue that Beth Finch
had modeled for, the statue I'd helped dedicate!

   She handed it to me and I almost dropped my diploma and the statue.  It
was heavier than I expected!  It was mounted on a real marble base, with a
little brass plaque with my name engraved beneath the words "Proudly Naked
in Central High" and the years I attended.

   Gracefully relieving me of my diploma to put it on the podium, Mrs. 
Devers stepped back, applauding along with everyone else -- a standing
ovation -- leaving me alone at the podium clutching the statue like it was
an Oscar.

   I stood there dazed while the whole experience washed over me.  When the
applause finally died down I realized I had to say something, and nothing
that The Stick and I had assembled seemed appropriate.

   "Thank you," I managed to choke out while I scrambled for words that
slithered away even as I reached for them.

   "Uh -- this is a bit overwhelming," I confessed.  "Wow!"

   It's so beautiful!  And it's Beth!

   Take a deep breath, and stand tall!  Remember, speak slowly and
distinctly.

   Yes'm, I agreed, and did so, after carefully resting the statue on the
podium, but not about to let go of it.

   And be brief!

   That won't be easy.  Now stop distracting me.

   Yes'm.

   "Well, first of all, none of this would have happened without the
support and encouragement of Mrs.  Devers, who was SACNISP's faculty
advisor and de facto Program Coordinator.  She was incredibly patient and
incredibly tolerant and unbelievably helpful and always supportive.  She
and I didn't always agree but we always managed to work it out between us."


   I managed a gesture in her direction when what I really wanted to do was
wrap myself around her.  I tucked the statue in my arm and managed to
applaud at the same time.

   "I also had a lot of help from my friends, especially the people who
made up the committee.  I hope they're all here today, because they're the
ones who really deserve this.  If they are I'd like them to stand up to be
recognized.

   "The senior class representatives were Heather McKenzie and Matt
Mozilla, who unhesitatingly set aside their upper class rank to support me,
a mere freshman, as committee Chair.  Heather was Vice Chair and kept
things moving when I was otherwise occupied.  It was a busy year.

   "They mobilized their classmates to defend against the fanny pinchers,
so I owe a debt to those who took part in that.

   "The juniors were Max Wang and Samantha Keeler.  Again, they were
steadfast supporters, and Samantha's knowledge of parliamentary procedure
saved me from making a fool of myself, while teaching me when and how to
apply the rules to accomplish our goals.

   "Sophomore Retta Jones and I crossed swords over the discipline issue,
but always respectfully.  In the end the result was a compromise that
satisfied us both and still stands today.  Walter Miflin, the other
sophomore, was our eyes and ears in the hallways so we were able to respond
quickly and effectively to events that threatened The Program.

   "Michael Collins, my fellow freshman, had the thankless task of keeping
the minutes of our meetings.  Thanks Mike!

   "Please give them all a well-deserved hand."

   I drew a deep, shaky breath as the audience responded.

   Not bad, for off the cuff!

   Thanks.

   "So I share this with all of my fellow SACNISP members, and with the
students, faculty, staff, and administration that make it all work.

   "I also have to acknowledge my brother Carl, and his sweetie Beth Finch
-- who are here today -- who were pioneers at being Naked in School, who
showed me how it should be done."

   Yeah, they fucked like bunnies in front of you, too.

   "But most of all I have to thank my Mom, who always encouraged me to
spread my wings and test my strength -- and rushed me to the hospital when
I overreached or fell, which was often."

   Laughter.

   "It was during my freshman year that Mom found her life-partner.  Dr. 
Elaine Smathers added her support and we became a family.  I call Elaine
Mom too.  She is a comfort and a joy to my Mom One.  From the very
beginning she accepted me and treated me as her daughter.  I'm incredibly
lucky to have two such wonderful moms.  Thanks Moms.  I love you both so
much!"

   Then all I could think to do was stand there like a doofus while people
applauded, wondering what to do next.  Finally nudged by Mrs.  Devers I
made the rounds of the VIPs, accepting their thanks and congratulations
again, shaking hands, hugging.

   At least I wasn't crying -- much.

   When the clapping ran down the choir filled the gap in a way that really
drew my tears.

   Gretchen Gardner stepped forward to solo with that exquisite soprano of
hers, while the choir harmonized softly behind her.

   May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be ever at your back.  May
the sun shine warm upon your face, And the rains fall soft upon your
fields. And until we meet again.  May God hold you, May God hold you Ever
in the palm of His hand.  Ever in the palm of His hand.  The palm of His
hand.

   How I held myself together I'll never know.  I kept trying to tell
myself she was singing to the whole class, but it seemed the whole time she
was firmly fixed on me.

   The applause faded, replaced by a building rumble from the school
orchestra's timpani and basses, a rumble that sounded awesomely familiar.

   Is that what I think it is????

   If it is this will be a recessional to remember as much as my fly-in at
the pep rally.

   But there's no zip line!

   Deal with it!

   It was because of this piece of music that I'd finally crammed Music
Appreciation into my last semester, and discovered a love of classical,
even though I can't carry a tune in a bucket.  As far as I'm concerned this
is the greatest opening to a piece of music since Beethoven's Fifth.

   As far as I was concerned it was also the perfect choice for our
recessional, to say nothing of providing a nice touch of symmetry to my
personal high school career.

   "Dee, will you please accept the honor of leading your class out with
the recessional?" Mrs.  Devers invited.

   Like I could turn it down!

   "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the Central High School
graduating class of...!" and the rest was lost in the ovation.  The
Valedictorian and Salutatorian fell in behind me as I made my way down the
steps to the field.

   The rumble droned on, then as I paused at the aisle between the chairs,
here it came, a distant sounding trumpet call, three rising notes as we
stepped out to "Sunrise," the introduction to Also Sprach Zarathustra,
better known as the opening theme from the movie 2001: a Space Odyssey.

   The brass section blared two descending chords, the tympani coming in,
BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM -BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM
-BOOM - BOOM!!

   I walked tall and proud, the statue cradled in one arm, my diploma in
the other hand, feeling like Moses descending Mt.  Sinai, head high, tears
half blinding me, streaming down my cheeks as the music grew, the trumpet
called a second time, louder, closer, then all the brass again, deeper,
stronger, two rising notes this time, forte, and again the drums, harder
feeling them in my chest!

   Or maybe that was my pulse.  I could sense the class behind me, just as
proud.

   The fanfare came again, building, the trumpet's three notes louder yet,
followed again by all the brass, stronger, louder, bolder, climbing,
climbing, climbing, then the horns descending in counterpoint
BAAH-DAAH-DAAH-DAAH, as if gathering strength, then all the brass climbing
again, striving, higher, higher...

   We marched out into our families and friends to the last fortissimo
chords, the three final powerful rising brass chords punctuated with drum
and cymbals, ringing out loud and long, soaring -- TAHHH, DAAHHHHH,
DAHHHHHHH!  -- as all order dissolved and we were engulfed, smothered in
love and showered with congratulations.  It was a triumphant whirlwind of
hugs and kisses and tears of joy at our success and sorrow that it was all
over.

   At one point I was dragged off for a brief session with my favorite
local reporter and lots of cameras taking pictures of me with my award.

   Released from that I started back into the mob in search of my moms when
a touch on my arm made me pause.  The slight, petite pre-teen blonde looked
familiar, but I didn't place her until I bent down to hear her and she gave
me a quick peck on the cheek and whispered "Thank you for being my ninja"
in my ear.

   Then she was gone before I had a chance to ask Elizabeth how she and her
brothers and sisters were doing.

   Are we done yet?  The Stick asked as the crowd began to melt away,
leaving me hugging the statue and my diploma, rubbing together with my moms
and my brother and my close friends in sort of a moving, chattering group
hug as we headed for the exit.

   Not quite.  Tomorrow is the Graduation Ball and Stephanie's party.

   Oh!  Well....

   Though the dances and the party might be an anti-climax after all this,
I cautioned.

   Steph's party an anti-climax?  Hah!  Knowing you it will more likely be
a bunch of multiple-mega-climaxes!!

   I'm not sure that's physically possible.

   Well you can't tell until you try, now, can you?
   Ah me.  Yet one more challenge.