rock day 1984


when I was a youngster I came across a Petra t-shirt in the laundry room at my house. It was folded in with the old towels that were now used to dry dad's car. no idea how it got there, it just appeared one day. it was a baseball -jersey type shirt and it had the sleeves cut off and a V cut off of the neck. I thought it was the coolest tshirt on the planet. obviously I had no idea
who this band was, and to be honest I really didn't care. the shirt had this early 80's gothic lettering with the band's name, and that was apparently cool enough for me to blindly wear. The day finally came when I could show off my pride and joy at school for "rock day". my hair in 1984 was definitely gaining mullet status, and my mouth was chunk full of metal. the combination of the three: my hair, teeth, and shirt rattled the kids on the school bus, some of whom were dressed in trash bags. I was glowing. where I had failed to hop on earlier trends such as vans and parachute pants, I was definitely leap years ahead in the white trash rocker department. for the thirty minute bus trip I was king, basking in the glow of the limelight, perched in the 3rd row to the back fielding questions like a dignitary. "Where'd you get the shirt, Rob, and who is petra? "I dunno, found it, whatever...; and if you don't know who petra is, well, then, your loss" . "Yes, Rob, over here, it's Trisha from oakmont court, question: How do you do it?" "Well Trisha, I dunno. I just do it. whatever...". "Rob, Rob, here in the back, it's kevin, I used to kiss your sister, uh, how did you go from unknown ugly kid to the rock star you are today?" "Good question kev - I ate my wheaties." (laughter erupts as I desperately try to quicly wink and nod at all those laughing).

The school bus arrives and I took my time, making sure I was the last off the bus. As I was on the last step , I stretched my arms up and rested them on the top of the scholl bus's door frame, exposing the three hairs in my right armpit. "Ok, rob, get off, I've got to go" said Gene the bus driver. "Oh, and I didn't know you were into christian rock, I love Petra, when did you see them?" I giggled at first over the preposterous notion of my cool shirt ever being touched by the hands of my sunday school teacher, the jaded epitome of Christianity I held in my young brain. "Yeah, right, christian rock" I mumbled as I left the bus.

morning periods crawled by in the anticipation of the rock day festivities, specifically the heralded costume competition. it would be after lunch, in the lunchroom. the bell finally rang - I leaped out of my seat and dashed for the bathroom down the hall. checked the hair...perfect. the teeth....shiny metal fortress. the shirt....golden. I was ready.

I was near the end of the costume line, awaiting my turn at the loosely constructed catwalk made between divisions of the lunch tables. up and down the catwalk they went, followed by light smatterings of applause and the occasional "holler" for each contestant. since the middle school and the high school were one during lunch, there was quite a crowd on hand. being in middle school, I knew I had to really win over the older crowd to get the prize, and i was ready. finally it was my turn. they announced my name, and I began , ever so confident and graceful as I meandered down the catwalk. suddenly I heard some laughter, over there, in the corner. it was the high school guys. "what could they possibly be laughing at" I wondered and just as soon as this entered my head the calls came; first slowly, then building. "hey, christian guy, it's rock day not sunday!" . "look at the petra t-shirt, who would ever want one of those?" . "hey petra guy - wanna lead us in prayer after school?"

I didn't know what to do. I knew my legs had given up on my mind, they were walking in circles in some sort of auto-pilot, staggering for ground like a foal. the laughter built and seemed to reach a peak when finally the principal, wiping tears from his eyes, finally gathered enough of his voice to call the next contestant. " ok,, whew! ok, ok, folks.... thanks, rob. oh boy,,, alright, where was I, ok, settle down. ahh yes, kelly powell. here comes kelly..."

straight to the bathroom. shirt off. inside out? no, it still reads through. damn. locker? empty of clothes. It seemed as I was doomed to wear the dreaded T the rest of the day.

time actualy stopped in mrs. davis's math class. it was the last class of the day, and I was dreaming of how I could convince mom to pick me up, then I remembered she was in Atlanta until later that evening. I was doomed to ride the bus back home. this shirt, which just this morning was the symbol of my transcendance into cool status, was now my albatross. looming, extra large and to be honest, itchy - it's poly blend fibers seemed to mock it's fallen master.

not a word was said. I couldn't believe it. had everyone forgotten? was my nightmare over?
my stop came and I moved to the fron tof the bus. quiet, serene even. "See ya rob, said Gene, and let me know if you ever want to come over - I have ALL of Petra's albums. " I felt the back of my head blown not by the wind from the bus, but by the laughter of those inside. this bus of screaming and cackling kids slowly lurched down the gravel road, leaving me with dust in my braces.

for the rest of the year I endured the slings and arrows of the older kids, and even some younger kids. and i didn't fight back. I deserved it for finding and wearing that dreaded "monkey's paw" t shirt. they even placed signs on my locker and on my gym shirt, all calling for the young rocker by the new name of "stryper".