Traverse City Record-Eagle

Kathy Gibbons: Northern Living

Related Photos

  • Gibbons

    CSS4311.jpg
May 23, 2010

Kathy Gibbons: This side of prom

By KATHY GIBBONS Local Columnist

Prom night. Oh, the memories.

I'd forgotten, kind of like women tend to forget the painful parts of childbirth and only remember the good stuff.

A few weekends lately, I've spotted groups of girls, hair done up, looking gorgeous and sophisticated in their gowns, with boys decked out in tuxes and fancy shoes. They all look shiny, new and expectant as they walk into restaurants or drive their parents' cars.

But there is another side of prom that many parents know. Battles over curfews or whether to come home at all. Warnings about drinking. Staying up all night, worrying.

That came to mind when someone I know called on a recent Sunday morning, sounding exhausted.

The night before had been his son's junior prom. He had a curfew of 2 a.m. But 2 came and went and no son. No call, either, and he wasn't answering his phone.

The later it got, the more frantic his parents. Finally, they checked around with some other parents, who weren't sleeping either, and learned that a bunch of the kids had ended up staying the night at a certain girl's house. At 6 a.m., they drove over. Sure enough, their son's car was there. After a surge of relief, all they could think about was killing him.

I remember a certain prom night. Being in pick-your-battles mode with an 18-year-old by then, I became one of those parents who I had always thought must have rocks in their head. But I decided to stop fighting the idea of an overnight with a group of friends at a cottage about an hour away from town.

A limo was taking them out there, so driving wasn't a worry. As for drinking, I warned him not to. And if he did, I told him, he should be prepared for the consequences given that it was not a matter of if, but only when, the police would come.

Like clockwork, the police came and broke up the party. The limo was long gone, and a bunch of them spent the remainder of a cold night in the woods in their formal wear. He caught a ride back to town with friends the next morning. They dropped him off in a grocery store parking lot. That's where he was when I picked him up, finding him still dressed in a now bedraggled tux, fancy shoes dangling from his hands, barefoot. The carriage had definitely turned into a pumpkin.

No, to me, prom was one of those rite-of-passage events that always looked good on the surface, but I was secretly glad to have over.

Now, hearing about these parents and their harrowing night, and seeing the groups of handsomely dressed teens out and about these spring weekends, I just smile. And think how not having a date with a prom anymore is just fine by me.

Reach Kathy Gibbons at gibbonskath@yahoo.com.

Text Only