Mum's the Word

Mum's the word. 

As a junior high and high school student I was on the drill team, and as was the custom we usually were given a mum for homecoming. For many of us these mums were from our loving parents. For those lucky few, who sported two mums, a boyfriend was required. 

This was something I did not have, and along with the extra mum, the invitation to the homecoming dance was also absent. The only dance I ever attended in high school was my senior prom, where a group of industrious seniors helped arrange as many promposals as possible to include those of us who were still boyfriendless. Kind of like an arranged marriage. 

I was thinking about how elaborate things have gotten these days, and how a formal mum exchange has become part of the tradition of homecoming. As these fortunate girls have their pictures displayed for the whole world to see, I can't help but wonder about those who don't receive mums. 

At least in my day, it was a little less advertised, and you could feel some comfort in knowing that your parents hadn't forgotten about you. I suppose what experiences like these do is teach you about disappointment. My greatest teenaged aspiration was popularity, and it was something I never quite achieved. 

It wasn't until I was thirty that I received my first mum from a boy. My sweet husband bought me one for the Celina homecoming game, and I proudly sported the orange and white. It was long in coming, but I sure got a kick out of his sweet gesture. I'm sure I must have previously confided in him my tale of woe. 

I'm not exactly sure what lesson was learned?  Perhaps that  in life there will be disappointments, but they can be overcome or maybe that good things come to those who wait? Either way all those past experiences have shaped the person I am today, and that's actually a good thing.