FATHER KNOWS BEST AND REMEMBERS BEST....

well.......As I remember it there was actually a party, of sorts, well to be more specific, a small gathering of a few freshmen and freshmen to be. We were all excited about our baby girl welcoming these new folks into RHS to be accepted by the new friends she would meet. In our nativity we thought the "party" was a great idea.

It formed quiet enough, welling up like a small dark cloud in May, building from nothing and then in a flash swelling to cover all space available and unleashing rain and storm like the perverbial "cats and dogs" downpour.

Camille went out to meet a few of her friends and Lora and I retreated into the back cavaran of obsecurity (our back bedroom) where we had been exiled while the "sub twenty something" set began to form outside.

All I know is that the evening was going so well as I enjoyed a few choice Friday night TVshows, until the Paul Revere Riders came running in with that familiar "the British are coming, the British are coming, translated to mean, "the upper classmen are coming, the upper classmen are coming".

As any "together" dad would do I calmly walked outside to discover hundreds, maybe thousands of sets of hormones and suds all over the drive, the yard, the woods and blocking traffic all over our neighborhood.

So calmly I requested Camille to "GET THIS PACK OF HEATHENS OUT OF THIS YARD RIGHT THIS SECOND OR ELSE", ah yes the OR ELSE, will get it done. As I think back, that was a tough place to leave Camille, but what the heck, it was her party. So I retreated back into the house and back to back bedroom - cavaran.

Within minutes, a couple of Camille's friends came running back to our room with stories of not just hundreds of teenagers, but now the introductiion of that vile liquid, BEER, in kegs, and in ice chests and soon to be in several hundred young men and woman.

So, I said to my self, SELF, this is a "job for superdad". So out I went, this middle aged, slightly balding, overweight, out of shape, bearing the maxium age limit to have a daughter that is a freshman, kinda of dad, against OVERWHELMING ODDS.

My first remarks, set the events in motion. I said to the first group of 50, "hey, hows it going, what's going on, having a good time", and to this day cannot understnd why that did not immediately disburse the crowd. It then occurred that I would have to hitch up my britches and have a go at this with a little more Cllint Eastwood or Sylvester Stalone style, like "hey punk, you like living, well you need to get your butt in gear and clear these woods. Actually that worked real well until I ran into my first, 225 lbs. lineman, who asked "Who are you old man". To which I said, I work for this family and I am just out picking up these collectible beer bottles, He let me go and then I travled on down the drive, franticly looking for someone more my size. After several failed attempts, I finally got a little ticked off and I thought I would move things up one more notch. Like a scene from Weird Science, when the motorcycle gang intruded at the party, the heroes, made a stand, and as I pronounced my intentions to take on a couple of the guys on, a certain seriousness came over me and I picked up the largest "ironwood pole" and waded in parting the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea.

One of my first victims was one of the coolest young men at school, riding atop his new, white mustang convertible, with an ice chest in the back seat. He said, so politely, like he was running for Student Body President, hello Mr. Bobby, and how are you this fine evening, to which I said "very well Robbie, and how are you", to which he said Oh, just peachy.

I inquired further to his retort with, "what's in the ice chest Robbie, to which he replied, oh, just some cokes for my friends". I opened the ice chest and said, "Robbie, someone has mixed about two dozen beer cans, right in the middle of your two cokes". At that he said, "good seeing you Mr. Bobby, tell Camille I can by. See you later".

Don't you find the memory of teenagers remarkable. They can remember the most obsecure lyrics and lines from movies and millions of other mindless facts, but a real party, worthy of "its own movie"conviently remembered.

After that the police began to show up and the crowd got very thin and innocent looking, reformed and the second police sighting actually broke the party up completely.

I think Camille has lived and relived the outstanding and legendary effects of this one night, in the little town of Vienna (pronounced VI anna) , and the little freshman who launched a speaking/polictial career that continues to growth.

So Camille you now have the real story. Compliments of your Dad who still loves you more than life itself.