Originally Published - October 2012
By Rhonda Ross, Associate Editor
When I moved to Southlake a little over a decade ago it was thebrbeginning of the school year and the weather was still hot enough to fry an eggbron the sidewalk. Definitely not what a native New Yorker would call footballbrweather. The closest NFL team to where I grew up was the Buffalo Bills; theybrplayed outside and games often required a ski suit to keep you warm on thebroutside and a “beverage” to do the same on the inside. I obviously had a greatbrdeal to learn about football in Texas, especially high school football.
I still remember my surprise in experiencing the huge crowdsbrthat descend upon the high school stadium on Friday nights. I had neverbrwitnessed a drill team before but I quickly came to admire the long line of legsbrin perfect unison with their shining sequined owners glinting in the eveningbrsun. In comparison to my high school, the Varsity cheerleading squad was hugebrso I was blown away by how they could fire up a crowd of thousands. The blow-up helmet manned by Dads that spewedbrforth a seemingly endless line of players each week was a true thrill.
After witnessing my first few games I started to feel I wasbrearning my stripes as a Texas high school football fan. My family wore thebrright colors on Friday, we knew all the right “Dragon” speak, I was sure Ibrlearned all there was to know about Friday Night lights and nothing couldbrsurprise me. But I was so very, very wrong. Nothing I learned would prepare mebrfor my first Homecoming game.
What on earth were those gargantuan masses of black andbrgreen ribbons that people were wearing? I was blinded by the mirrors reflectingbrthe stadium lights seemingly suspended on invisible threads, the names runningbrdown the ribbons like a waterfall of precious jewels. Scattered bells chimedbrmerrily with each movement. Some of these strange but wonderful creations hadbrflashing twinkle lights and feather boas that softly moved in the sultry Texasbrbreeze. Even the guys were wearing slightly modified versions of thesebrfantastical formations on their arms like badges of honor. From my firstbrencounter with the “Homecoming Mum” I was bewitched. Researching the history ofbrthe homecoming mum for this issue truly brought back some memories of my son'sbrhigh school years and the elusive search for the perfect mum.
While my son was young I fought the good fight admiring thebrglitz and glamour from afar but eventually I succumbed to mum fever when he wasbra high school freshman and we needed one for his homecoming date. It wasbrnecessary to go to those more learned than I who had older kids to figure outbrthe whole Mum philosophy. They asked questions like “Are they dating or justbrgoing as friends?” “What extracurricular ac tivities isbrshe in?” “Do you want to make it or buy it?” and even “What's your budget?” Mybrfirst visit to a mum supply store quickly answered the budget question. It wasbrliterally possible to spend as much on one of these colossal concoctions as itbrcost to feed a family of four for a month.
I've always been crafty. As a middle schooler I made thebrEgyptian Queen Nefertiti's head out of a metal coffee can and Paper Mache andbrit was truly gorgeous. In high school I was a competitive skater and I couldn'tbrsew a stitch but I sure knew how to add the bling factor to my competitionbroutfits. If you ask my friends they'll tell you there is not much I can't do ifbryou give me a glue gun. The scrapbooks from my son's high school career arebrworks of art that required countless trips to craft stores and immeasurablebrhours spent with BFF's bent over a table creating the perfect page.
But, I digress. For my son's four high school years Ibrcreated mums that will hopefully grace a girl's bedroom wall for timebrimmemorial. I made tiny pirate bears, bedecked a Dragon (in honor of my sonbrbeing the mascot) and even fashioned a perfect miniature Emerald Belle completebrwith sequined hat.
I guess the $700 question is, “Are homecoming mumsbrcompletely over the top, expensive wastes of good money, and totally ridiculousbrexpressions of excess?” Sure, but we love them anyway, long may they reign.
Just saying.
Rhonda is a native of upstate New York transplanted to Southlake twelve years ago after career stops in Tennessee, South Carolina, and Missouri. Her Dragon son graduated from Carroll in 2009 and headed off to college so Rhonda took advantage of being an empty nester by going back to school herself and completing her Masters degree in English. Living her dream of being a writer, Rhonda fully enjoys her work writing and editing here at Southlake Style.