I’ve been "spicy" for as long as I remember.  My tongue is an untamed BEAST at times, no wonder I say to (and pray for) my children daily "THINK before you SPEAK".  Like most kids, I always thought I knew more than I actually did.  I never fully understood how thinking I knew more than I did, when combined with my spice, might horrify those in my presence. 

Happy Valentine’s Day! 

V.D.  For some reason, thinking about the initials of today’s holiday sent me reeling to the past–my Y Camp days–and oh! were those the days!  Summer days, when the sun rose early and stayed up late, and the scent of sweat and pine was a collective perfume nothing bottled can match.  When I close my eyes and linger, I can still smell 1975 and I smile and remember
t h e  d a y s.  A dining hall chock full of estrogen, with hearts young and younger scream- singing at the tops of our lungs "Violent Love" and "Just Plant a Little Watermelon on my Grave" and "Flea" and "An Austrian Went Climbing", and we never suspected there was anything really violent about the love because that didn’t exist in the 70s. 

For entertainment, every night of camp had an activity where campers and/or counselors performed SOMETHING–Talent Night, Cabin Song Night, Imitate a Counselor Night, you get the idea.  No televisions, telephones, mp3 players or gaming systems, and certainly no computers!  It was roughing it but with the added luxuries of hot water, indoor plumbing and electricity. 

This particular memory has to do "Commercial Night".  Campers were to create a commercial for a product or service, real or imagined, and many girls simply parodied something already on the air.  This was the choice Kimberly and I made, and thinking about it right now makes my hiney cringe (HT Ree).  For those of you who have no idea what that means, it ain’t good. 

Apparently, sexually transmitted diseases must’ve been a health concern in our area, there were a series of PSA radio spots that aired for some period of time.  This must’ve been the year after 7th grade, the year we learned about syphilis and gonorrhea in our public school "health class"; remember this is the 70s, pre-AIDS, heck, even pre-herpes.  A curable venereal disease was as bad as it got…. 

I was living in Athens, GA and Vince Dooley, coach of the UGA Bulldogs was iconic..a rock star…a god of mythic proportion.   People worshiped football from cradle to grave and Dooley was the object of many an adoring fan. 

I’m cringing again thinking about where I’m headed next…to this day, I STILL can’t believe we did this.  And were PROUD of it…we thought we might WIN "Commercial Night".

Kimberly and I lifted the venereal disease PSA, changed a few words, added some choreography, and performed our entry for the night’s entertainment.  In our minds, our little jingle rivaled anything Barry Manilow could do for Coke or bologna actually having O-S-C-A-R for a first name.  It went something like this:

"V.D. is for everybodeeeey,Happy_vd_1
Not just for the feeeeeeeewwwwwww.
If you should get V.D.
Don’t call a doctor,
‘Cause Vince Dooley is for

…and then we did this little kick-jump thing and shouted in unison, "VeeeeeDeeeeeee!"

Needless to say, we didn’t win, place or show.  At least we didn’t get kicked out of camp.

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