KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

Whenever my friends get together, the moment invariably arrives when, as one voice, they cry, “Tell the reunion story!” I prefer to think of it as a modern day fairytale, where the hero dashes in on his trusty steed to save the day. This knight didn’t ride in on a black stallion and his armor was a golf shirt and slacks. Nevertheless, his deeds were heroic.

If you were one of the so-called ‘popular kids’ in high school, you might want to set aside this story right now. You can’t possibly understand the enormity or magnitude of the long-awaited event that was about to unfold. An event so impactful that the stars and moon would align and my very existence would finally be justified….the 15 reunion of Mt. Healthy High School, Class of 1970, Cincinnati, Ohio. This was my chance to shine. To prove to everyone that Glenda Maxine Atkins was no longer the incredibly shy, awkward, straight-A, wallflower of her painful youth. You know how some people spend their lives reliving their high school glory? Seriously, I cried when I talked about those painful years. I walked through the halls of Mt. Healthy High with eyes downcast, carrying my books close to my chest to cover-up that embarrassing development. Did I join the Spirit Club or that group of baton-twirlers in short skirts? No, I belonged to the French and Drama Clubs. I didn’t know how to dress cool, style my hair or wear makeup. Oh, how I longed to be one of the in-crowd. A cool girl that could attract the attention of a football player like Mike Marshall. I almost swooned when Mike butted in front of me in the lunch line one day. He was so handsome that I felt honored that a celebrity like him stole my place in line. Sadly, THAT was the highlight of my high school saga.

Now it is 1985 and everything has changed. I am a successful investment broker, wife and mother of two wonderful children. I had recently moved back to Cincinnati after four fun and sun-filled years in San Diego. I was one of those California girls everyone was wishing for! I was tan, I knew how to dress, I worked out, heck, I even took the EST training. I drove a sports car and lived in a great house. The ugly duckling had finally turned into an enlightened and beautiful swan.



My husband, Greg, was ‘thrilled’ about going to my high school reunion. My anticipation was only surpassed by his dread. The day I had longed for finally arrived. The reunion, a cruise up the Ohio River, was only moments away. My hair was fashionably styled (if anything was truly fashionable in 1985) and my makeup flawless as I donned my Cinderella-goes-to-the-ball-and-knocks-‘em-all-dead gown (a classic, yellow dress that was chic, but casual).

Within moments of our arrival at Kentucky’s Riverboat Row, we learned there was no Mt. Healthy Reunion. We hurried downriver to another riverboat for strike two. At a 7-Eleven payphone, an old classmate told me I was on the wrong side of the river. Strike three. I had just missed the biggest moment of my life. Rather than face the shame, I decided then and there to tell my friends and coworkers that the reunion was a blast. It’s all I had talked about for weeks. Greg, seeing my misery, decided that ‘it ain’t over till it’s over’.

We jumped into the car and raced across the bridge to the Ohio side. We pulled up on the Public Landing just in time . . . to watch the gangplank hauled up and the riverboat pull away from shore. Greg, seeing my grief, rallied once more. He yelled for me to get my ZemZem (definitive proof of my nerdness, the 1970 yearbook), and we dashed to the point where the public landing disappeared into the murky Ohio River. Greg commenced to wave his hands at passing boats. When a speedboat came within earshot, he cried, “$20 if you can get us on that boat!!” Ready for more refreshments, the two shirtless young men brought their boat as close to the edge as they could. Greg proceeded to take off his shoes and roll up his pants. He carefully placed one foot into the water, slipped on river slime and executed an ungraceful half-gainer into the river! I could hear the fat lady singing. End of inning…end of game.

As he stood up, drenched and slimy, he looked at me and sadly said, “Well, I guess it’s over now.” One look at my face, made him change his mind. He placed his shoes in the boat, walked, I mean waded over to me, whisked me into his strong, if slimy arms, and placed me gently in the boat. We were back in the game! The boat sped up-river after the riverboat, slamming hard on the wake of our target. I removed my slip (another sign of the ‘80’s) and proceeded to wipe the slime and water from Greg’s skin and clothing. My hair was whipped by the winds, and gone with the wind were all my concerns and careful preparations to ‘look the part’.

As we pulled along side the riverboat, the painfully shy, introverted wallflower of the Class of 1970, yelled to those standing at the rail, “Is that the Mt. Healthy reunion? I WANT ON THAT BOAT!” The Captain slowed for us to come along side, we paid our tour guides their well-earned $20, and my defining moment began.

It is very difficult to be a wallflower when you make an entrance like that. Add that to the fact that I was the only shipmate with a ZemZem, and I was truly the belle of the ball. I smiled, I laughed, I danced, and proceeded to fulfill every dream I had about the evening. Come to think of it, I couldn’t even dream that good. It didn’t bother me that they were all wondering, “Who is Glenda Atkins, anyway?” One of the drawbacks of being a wallflower with a bent to show everyone she’s changed, is that they never knew you existed to begin with. However, that didn’t stop me. The climax of the evening found the ‘popular kids’ asking me, I mean us, to go up to Mt. Adams for drinks afterwards. Cinderella danced the night away at Longworth’s. Wow.

Now, you must be wondering what Greg was doing through all of this. Greg stood back, wet and cold, while I made memories to last a lifetime and reconciled my past. It’s a funny thing about memories. My greatest joy as I look back to that evening isn’t the memory of my star power. It is the sacrifice and humility of a man not usually prone to such qualities. Maybe that’s why it meant so much. Diamonds, furs, trips to tropical beaches…those gifts pale in comparison to my knight in shining armor who challenged raging rivers, rode to my rescue on a rented speedboat, and made the ultimate sacrifice…his pride and well-being for my glory. WOW!

Sadly, Greg and I divorced in 2001,
but as you can see here, he
still plays the hero very well.



Our daughter Ashley's wedding to
Brent, April 22, 2011