Pretty as a Prom
If I’m being honest, I was not certain my oldest daughter would ever go to prom. Not because she’s not an earth-shatteringly amazing human being, and cute as a button, but because, up until a year or two ago, her normal, resting expression suggested she was disinterested in your existence. This was, of course, not the case, but I confess to occasionally having wondered whether her inadvertent posture of supreme indifference would, I don’t know, dissuade potential prom dates someday.
Actually does, in fact, care about your existence. (Flaming Gorge, Utah; 2021)
But, lo, Savannah’s electric personality has blossomed these past few years, and she was recently asked to prom. Because she’s a third culture kid though — meaning that, although she’s American, she’s spent much of her life outside the United States — she didn’t intuitively grasp the intricacies surrounding prom rituals.
One morning at the breakfast table several weeks ago Savannah said, “Someone left on our porch last night a big poster board full of puns and candy, and also the word ‘prom.’ I don’t know what to do. What just happened.”
Shannon and I explained that this is a playful way that teens in some parts of the United States procure prom dates. “Why couldn’t he just say it in statistics. I sit right next to him in statistics. All he would’ve had to do is say, ‘Hey Savannah, wanna go to prom with me?’ We could’ve sorted it in like twelve seconds.” Savannah is a lot like her mother sometimes.
Savannah would not approve of this photo. But Abu Halen is the dad, and this is Abu Halen’s blog. Also, Savannah doesn’t know Abu Halen has a blog, because blog’s are very 2004. (Provo, Utah; 2021)
Fortunately, I am wise in the ways of the prom. I went to prom myself once. Actually, I went to prom four times. Thrice in one year, in fact. Not because I was cool, but because I was convenient. Cool guys are good-looking and kissable. Convenient guys aren’t ugly and won’t try to kiss you unless expressly directed to do so, in writing, in front of a notary.
One of my prom dates was with a childhood friend from a school two hours away who was extremely attractive and popular but didn’t want to give any one of her rabid male following the wrong idea. So she asked me if I’d take her to prom, as I rarely had any ideas at all, wrong or otherwise.
That resigned look in your eyes when your life is in the hands of another. (Provo, Utah; 2021)
In our prom picture we are standing a good foot-and-a-half apart, our respective arms folded, smiling quite happily at the camera. The photography company used the shot on the front page of its promotional brochure the next year, probably as proof that you don’t have to really like your date all that much, or even reliably recall his name, to have a great time at prom.
After the dance, we went with her friends to Denny’s. In her small town, that was kind of the pinnacle of fine dining. After sharing Moons Over My-Hammy and many glasses of pink lemonade, I drove her home. It was around 2 am, and on the doorstep she said something like, “I am really surprised how much fun I had.” I must’ve looked confused as I tried in vain to decipher what she meant, because she laughed and said, “You’re funny. Stay sweet.” Then she went inside. I remember thinking, Man, if I had a dollar for every time a cute girl said I was funny, I could probably buy enough gas to get home.
Savannah was also surprised at how much fun she had at prom. She danced the night away. Or, rather, jumped the night away. The next morning she observed, “Americans don’t really dance, they just jump up and down to the beat, more or less.” That sounds about right. There’s so much to learn in this life, and Savannah is learning it.
Also wishes to go to prom. (Provo, Utah; 2021)
