My 1973 yearbook faces investigation

Like many of you, I suspect, the Brett Kavanaugh debacle has caused me to wonder: “Where is my high school yearbook?” and “Is there anything in it that could someday keep me from a lifetime appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court?”

It took me a few minutes, but I found it. The biggest revelation: Old yearbooks that have been stored in cardboard boxes for decades smell like boof.

My senior yearbook wasn’t signed because we got them after graduation owing to someone’s poor planning. I blame Dorothy, which you’ll understand momentarily. The junior yearbook was a treasure trove, though. Here are some excerpts from Wallace-Rose Hill High School’s “Reminiscence ‘73.”

From Diane: “Nice having you as a d—- friend.” (Love her, she never was a good cusser though.)

From Mary: “Typing class sure has been fun with you, you scabby-a—ed, flabby-mouthed b——. Hope we have lots more classes together next year. Stay as crazy as you are!” (Mary transferred from Southern California, where they obviously cuss better.)

From Kay: “This has been the first year I’ve gotten to know you, and I still don’t.” (Ouch?)

From Robert: “Be sweet and have a good summer! I look forward to all of your smart remarks.” (Yes, well, I hope you see that I have parlayed those smart remarks into a frikkin’ career, my friend. Which makes you a VISIONARY.)

From Judy: “You give off an air of sunshine wherever you go. I hope you will always be this happy.” (OK, that’s super sweet. I expect Judy would be surprised to know that many readers replace the phrase “air of sunshine” with “toxic, incoherent, liberal drivel.”)

From Dorothy: “I sure enjoyed getting high with you in first period study hall.” (Settle down. When she writes “getting high,” Dorothy is clearly referring to a drinking game in which one gets a sugar rush from quickly ingesting a mix of Mountain Dew, Jolt Cola and sweet tea. As I recall, this was known as “the devil’s triangle.”)

From Donna: “Hope to see you this summer and in Algebra II! Stay chilly!” (This isn’t especially profound, but I included it because “stay chilly!” is something you hardly ever hear anymore. For a brief period, chilly replaced the time-tested “groovy.” Which, along with “far out,” “outasite” and “scabby-a—ed, flabby-mouthed b——” were apparently very popular among young people in the ‘70s in rural Eastern North Carolina.)