The Summers We Were Sixteen: Page

Thanks to Christi for asking us to do this. I'm actually going to do two summers, because they relate to each other. The summers that I was fifteen and sixteen. This might be a little long...

My birthday is in November, so I had a whole two-thirds of the school year to be fifteen before I went from junior high (9th grade in AZ at the time) to high school. I'd made the top choir and the JV Cheer squad, and I was so excited to finally be moving up in the world.

Unfortunately, I had a difficult choice to make that year as well. My church had scheduled Girl's Camp the same week as Cheer Camp. Long story short: I chose Cheer Camp.

Wrong choice.

I won't say I didn't have fun, because I did. I learned a lot, and thought I'd made some good friends. The girls on my squad were nice to me, and I was good at everything we did. But the challenge came when I realized that my new "friends'" bad language was rubbing off on me.

I'd never made a habit of swear words. I'd said them in the past, but only once, and only behind the staircase at my elementary school to prove that I *could* but I didn't ever *want* to. The more I hung out with these girls on my squad, the more these words drove themselves into my brain.

Eventually, school started and I was basically swearing. Not constantly, and definitely not at home or in writing or to anyone I knew it would offend, but the words came out of their own accord. The devil on my shoulder was proud of me, and the angel on the other hung her head in shame.

By the time the cheer squad did the first football game and pep rally, I'd come to the conclusion than none of the girls on my squad even really liked me. Not only that, but cheering had a negative effect on my singing voice, and choir was definitely my top priority at the time. So I quit the squad. Soon after that, I realized that I'd dug myself into a bad hole, and that hole was full of swear words.

I remember standing on the steps of my high school waiting for my mom to come pick me up, and something happened that made me utter a curse under my breath. I was completely alone, and (to be a little religious for a second) the Spirit hit me hard, telling me that swearing wasn't the way for me, and I needed to stop. So, I made a conscious effort to stop. A habit like that is hard to break and it took a long time, but I did it.

Then, the summer I was sixteen I was able to go to Girl's Camp with my church. I was also able to attend a program called EFY (Especially For Youth) that members of my church put on each year. It was a whole week of spiritual talks, songs, games, study, and celebration. I met cute boys, made new friends, and had one of the most spiritual moments of my life that I still treasure to this day.

I learned from both summers, about myself and my life. And lessons like those stick with you.

-Page/Darci

The Summers We Were Sixteen: Part II

Didn't you just love Rogue's post about her 16th summer? The fact that she used the word temerity alone, really impressed me. So much so, that I had to look it up. For your enjoyment, here is an account of Lady Jane's summer she turned 16, exactly 14 years ago today!


Lady

Sunday! My 16th birthday fell on a Sunday. And I thought the universe couldn't be crueler. I couldn't date until I turned sixteen anyway and it was just the shard of glass on top of the cake that it fell on a Sunday, a day my family went to church and not much else. 

The only glorious gift given to me by the universe was that it rained. A good, long rain. I grew up in the desert and the simple act of condensation falling to the ground lifted my spirits. 

I didn't even have the fortune of looking forward to getting my driver's license either. There's no one to blame but myself (or maybe the girl that caused a car accident I was in just before my 15th birthday). I wasn't in the mood to be behind the wheel when there were crazies out there who could run red lights because they felt like it. Not exactly the boost of confidence I needed or faith in my fellow driver.

I had a few close friends that I made from being in choir at high school for the last couple of years that I wanted to invite over for my sweet sixteen. I might have been a little over-zealous at my definition of "a few close friends" because when I invited 20 or so kids, only four showed up. I was too depressed to even be happy that those four cared enough to be there for me. 

When I did finally have my first date, I had a blast! I went with a boy I was friends with (no romantic inklings whatsoever, the best kind of date when you're starting out) and we grabbed some pizza with two other couples and went back to my date's house to play relay ping pong. I think that's what it's called, where you race around the table and you can only hit the ball once. Then we finished the night off with a showing of "The Princess Bride". In all, not a shabby first date if I do say so. 


Stay tuned for our next installment of The Summers We Were Sixteen! 

The Summers We Were Sixteen

The word itself almost seems magical. The days are longer, the nights pleasant (depending on where you grew up). But the most magical summers would have to be at the age of sixteen. Licenses are distributed, dating more often (again, depending on how you grew up), your friends are the most important people on the planet, I could go on but I won't. It's Rogue's turn to divulge details on the summer she turned sixteen. For many of the Typelings, it has been over a decade since those treasured years. So come along with us as we scrounge through our attics of teenagerdom and find some buried gems.


Rogue

The summer I turned 16 was a momentous one for me. I remember late-night cruises down empty highways, hanging out of a sunroof and screaming for the joy of the wind in my hair. I remember sneaking in and out of windows, evading curfews and parental interference, stargazing on rooftops, climbing trees and fences alike, and crushing hard core on a different cute boy every week.

I remember my first kiss, crouching in a nest of shrubbery at the edge of a park in the dead of night, the temerity of the moment, the pounding of my hear and the flushing of my face, the feel of gravel pressing into my ankles. I remember hours of hand holding, his palm calloused and sweaty against mine, and how every second seemed both desperate and eternal.

That summer was the first time I ever heard the words "I love you", and the first time I returned the sentiment-the first time I really thought I meant it. 

It was a summer of blistering heat, of reckless bliss, of raucous  friendship, teenage rebellion, and budding romance. It was the high point of my youth, a time I will always treasure. 

Color Me Nostalgic

Greetings! Lady Jane here, but you can call me Lady. I'm probably the most sentimental of the group so pardon me while I wax nostalgic as I settle into my proverbial rocking chair on my wraparound porch.

Yesterday while I was driving to work, the song "Our House" by Madness streamed over those invisible waves into my memories. I'm the youngest sibling of seven, two of which were 80s high school graduates. I heard a lot of Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, OMD, Prince, and countless other artists in my five years of age. So whenever I hear those groups on the radio now I'm immediately pulled back to my parents' basement watching my sister Stacy perform cheer routines for family home videos. "Our House" eventually became my family's theme song. (I've even thought about splicing all of my home videos and pictures together to create an opening montage as if we had our own sitcom, maybe call it Nine is Nifty). 

If you've heard it but never understood the lyrics (can't really blame you, they're English and they sing really fast sometimes) here they are:

Father wears his Sunday best 

Mother's tired she needs a rest 

The kids are playing up downstairs 

Sister's sighing in her sleep 

Brother's got a date to keep 

He can't hang around 

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our ... 

Our house it has a crowd 

There's always something happening 

And it's usually quite loud 

Our mum she's so house-proud 

Nothing ever slows her down 

And a mess is not allowed 

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our ... 

Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our ... 

Something tells you that you've got to get away from it 

Father gets up late for work 

Mother has to iron his shirt 

Then she sends the kids to school 

Sees them off with a small kiss 

She's the one they're going to miss 

here they are:In lots of ways 

Our house, in the middle of our street 
Our house, in the middle of our ... 

I remember way back then when everything was true and when 
We would have such a very good time such a fine time 
Such a happy time 
And I remember how we'd play simply waste the day away 
Then we'd say nothing would come between us two dreamers 

Our house, was our castle and our keep 
Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, that was where we used to sleep 
Our house, in the middle of our street 

Our house, in the middle of our street

 I especially tear up on the line "Our house that was where we used to sleep". Not many people can boast that they lived in the same house for 19 years! I was an incredibly lucky little gal to avoid the "new kid at school" syndrome; everywhere I went somebody knew me because of my family. 

I grew up with cousins that were like a second set of sisters and a fruit-producing orchard of oranges, tangerines, plums, apricots and apples, 3.25 acres to roam with trees to climb and holes to dig. I walked to school uphill...both ways...in the snow...just kidding). I made friends with my teachers and other adults and yes even a few cats. 

I think with the holidays approaching and family is coming together I can't help but be sentimental. Oh who am I kidding? I can be nostalgic and day of the week.

Stay out of trouble whippersnappers,

Lady