Queen of the Geeks

I didn't like high school, and couldn't wait to get out. Fortunately, my friends made the teenage years  bearable.
Like me, my friends were Square Pegs, kids that didn't really fit the mold. We congregated in a little room off the library under the tutelage of Dennis Tuff who ran the audio-visual program.
For those with a creative bent, there wasn't a lot that my high school offered. It was a trade school, mainly populated by boys who dreamed of long careers at General Motors, and girls who carried switch blades -- at least that was the rumour about town.
West Park had a terrific shop program, a swimming pool, and a world class rowing program.
But there was no band, no school letters, or theatre program.
There was only the A-V club.
We were a rag-tag bunch. The boys were rough around the edges, hair too long, nails slightly broken; they were either funky smelling or over-perfumed.
I'd like to think the girls were a higher caste. We were a little snooty and full of ourselves, confident in our abilities, and able to arm wrestle any comers. We didn't have money, but we were girls who honed wicked tongues that could spew salty language with the best sailors.
If you were a girl in the A-V club, you had to be able to hold your own, or you would get crushed under a thousand pounds of television gear.
For whatever reason, the A-V club offered us a lifeline that let us escape lives that were fraught with economic hardship, and worse.
We made television programs for the local cable station, producing such appetizing fare as Bible Questions, Please! We ran the cameras and switches for local baseball and lacrosse. We knew our way around SLR still cameras, and very, very, ancient graphics.
On the weekend, a bunch of us would congregate at my mom's house. The guys would barrel in with cases of beer under their arms, and we would watch late night porn on Global TV or we would listen to music on my mom's stereo, everything from 50s music on the eight track, to Valdy on vinyl. Sometimes, we would put on Alice Cooper and feel really, really edgy. We weren't, of course. We were just a bunch of geeks trying to get along in the world.
There were many memorable characters in the AV club including Barb and Jayne who began Grade Nine as caterpillars and turned into beautiful butterflies. The guys were nutty for them, literally falling over each other to get next to Geek Royalty. Barb rocked a long mane of blonde straight hair, and seemed oblivious to their advances. Jayne turned heads as she walked down the hallway.
The guys didn't love them just because they were beautiful.
The guys loved them because they were smart, and confident, and seemed unattainable.
I met Barb again last summer while visiting another AV geek, the gentleman farmer Doug Backus who still runs the family acreage, growing peaches, pears, and grapes for the local wineries.
Barb still looked fabulous, the hair a little shorter but still amazingly perfect.
She was always down to Earth, with a beautiful smile, and a kind soul.

Now in her 60s, she was working at the local Y, getting up at the crack of dawn to let in the swimmers and rowers. She and her husband were still bursting with hopes and dreams. They had bought an RV and were intent on travelling the country, and visiting far flung friends and relatives.
We talked about the good old days, and filled each other in on the other West Parkians.
Sadly, more than a few had left us: Brian, Sandie, Gary -- they all died too young to even think about getting a camper.
Our meeting brought me back to all those concerts we attended at the CNE Stadium on August break.
I can still smell the fried onions that greeted us at the entrance of the fair as we disembarked the bus from St. Catharines. Man, those were good times, the summers of our blossoming womanhood.
Barb didn't stay long at Doug's. She had to get up at 5 to open up the pool.
Besides, she said, she hadn't been well. Doctors didn't know what was going on, but she'd been experiencing some pain and nausea.
A few weeks ago, we found out why.
Barb, beautiful and perfect was not invincible.
She was unable to bend her illness with optimism and determination.
She sent us a message on Facebook.
It slapped me straight in the face.
The note was matter-of-fact.
Barb was facing a terminal illness with no cure.
Her great regret was that she would be unable to RV with Pat into her dotage, but she said she was lucky for her great family, and a wonderful life.
As I write this, I can't believe it’s true, but I do admire her.
In the end, she wrote her own script.
Too bad she couldn’t change the ending.