Tears and Laughter: How to protect yourself from the 1980s

Brett Kavanaugh is in, but you may be out if you are next. The last few weeks has likely swirled up a few stowed away past memories from the 1980’s and if you were twisting more than Rubik’s Cubes then you should be concerned.

We should all be concerned.

I thought Judgment Day came after we die, but evidently it is possible to end up in a hearing discussing our high school infractions while we are still breathing. And if you are successful enough it can potentially be televised on every major network and broadcast by National Public Radio.

We should all promptly prepare. The first thing we need to do is immediately find and destroy all yearbooks. Mine are scattered between my attic and a bookshelf at my mama’s, but somewhere in one of them it reads, “Remember the tree, remember the trunk…remember the night we all got drunk.”

I asked the guy who wrote it why he would write such as that when he knew my parents would thumb through the annual at some point, the way they did every year, and they were going to be curious about which tree, what trunk, and when was the night we all got drunk.

But there was no tree, there was no trunk, and there was never at any point a night that “we” all got drunk. We were 15, and his response was serious and honest. He said, “Because it’s funny. I wrote it in everybody’s.”

And that was exactly what I explained to my parents when they inquired about it. They, much to my relief, saw the humor. But lady luck might not shine so brightly on any of us at a hearing, so say goodbye to the yearbooks and flick the Bic.

If you ever played spin-the-bottle, you should be worried. Especially if you weren’t too smooth with any of it yet and she – or he – interprets it today as assault. Because let’s be honest, there is a very thin line between grabbing and groping, and touching and feeling.

Likewise, if you had somebody you enjoyed practicing your night moves with, and you don’t have a signed contract proving you were granted permission, or there isn’t a love child or an old promise ring that can be produced, then you should be terrified.

You may want to consider sending her – or him – some select cherry cordials starting this holiday season with a few accompanying Ben Franklin’s.

If you ever mooned a passing vehicle, the best you can do is pray there are no Polaroids of the event and that you don’t have any identifiable features or differences.

The same rule would naturally apply to streaking. Admitting to streaking in high school could destroy any chance of you ever holding public office. It might keep you from a promotion or becoming a deacon at church.

If you were considering streaking, and therefore you were naked under your graduation gown, but yet you remained sober enough to decide against it…you are probably still guilty.

We all were.

It was our age of innocence.

This is an opinion column.

Amanda Walker is a blogger and contributor with AL.com, The Thomasville Times, West Alabama Watchman, and Wilcox Progressive Era. Contact her at walkerworld77@msn.com or at https://www.facebook.com/AmandaWalker.Columnist