Day 121 – Class of 95

Today’s shirt is my Class of ’95 shirt from my senior year of high school. On the back, it says “MONTICELLO 1995” and lists in alphabetical order the names of the entire graduating class (more or less—if I recall correctly, there may be some names there that did not, technically, graduate. But that may be just rumor and innuendo). My name is right there in the middle column near the top.

The front of the shirt shows a thin, wild-eyed cartoon man struggling to hold aloft a large stone spelling out “CLASS OF 95” while standing on a (ahem) “grassy” hill and amongst three mountains with black peaks. The picture on the front of the shirt was designed and drawn by one of my classmates, and approved by the faculty to become our official class T-shirt. I mention the faculty approval and official status because upon viewing through the lens of a teenage boy, one might question if it would be. I know when I first saw it, questions in my mind immediately popped up, such as why the mountains were dark on top and light below, opposite of the snowy white and dark rock one would normally expect, and didn’t the grass he was standing on look not very grass-like, and, much more like, say, hair? I later confirmed my suspicions when I was told by the artist himself that the design was intended to have an alternate interpretation, inasmuch as if you were to cover the man and the words entirely (and one of the mountains in doing so) the image was intended to evoke (particularly jagged) breasts and the hill on which the man was standing to represent the hairy pubic mound of a woman. I suppose that it was non-sexual enough to avoid being suggestive to the censors, while also being completely non-erotic, but of course eroticism wasn’t the point, and putting one past the school administration was, and in that, I guess, it succeeded. A fitting tribute to my senior class.

Day 121 - Class of 95

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3 thoughts on “Day 121 – Class of 95

  1. Okay, so here is how the internet has ruined my brain. My first reaction was seriously, “OK, now I have to go research this” and I started to go search on the Internet before I finally said to myself “OH WAIT, I HAVE THE SHIRT. I CAN JUST GO READ IT OFF THE STUPID SHIRT.” (I yell at myself in my head).

    Anyway, it’s Stasha Dunlap. I have no idea who that is. Four Oaks, no doubt. Now thoroughly intrigued, I stopped the movie I was watching (“Away We Go” – verdict: 3.5 out of 5 stars. The Madison section was pretty over the top, but not completely based on fiction.) to go down to the basement to get the senior yearbook that I have for some reason (that reason is my mom got it for me). Actually, I stopped to pick up my daughter first because she started fussing, and proceeded to unload in her diaper loudly. But then I carried her down to the basement to get the yearbook. She (that is, Stasha Dunlap, not my daughter) is nowhere to be found in there (that is, in the yearbook, not my basement). So then I returned to the internet to Google her, whereupon I determined this important peice of information: I stopped being intrigued and decided I really don’t care.

    I know you didn’t ask for all that detail, but this is a blog, so I’m supposed to talk about every detail of my life, right? That’s how it works?

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