It is a moment that cannot be erased from my memory bank, even after 45+ years.
It was Phy. Ed class back in the 1960’s in the Climax School gymnasium.
We had to wear a one-piece navy blue gym uniform with elastic around the waist, elastic around the thighs, and snaps up the front. Absolutely nothing attractive or flattering about it.
Really? Are you serious?
As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, we had to exercise to the music of … wait for it … the “Chicken Fat” song. Have mercy!!
Touch down every morning – ten times! Not just now and then.
Give that chicken fat back to the chicken, And don’t be chicken again.
No, don’t be chicken again.
Push up every morning – ten times. Push up starting low
Once more on the rise, nuts to the flabby guys!
Go, you chicken fat, go away! Go, you chicken fat, go!
THAT’s what we did our push-ups and jumping jacks and sit-ups to!
Who in the name of all things healthy and fashionable ever thought that was a good idea!? CHICKEN FAT??
Our memories are filled with celebrations and sadness. Good times and hard times. And for some of us, the Chicken Fat song.
Last week nine of the 12 Girls of ’75 from Climax School got together. My classmates. And Oh. My. Word. What a blast! Laughter and tears and stories and hugs … and more laughter. Some of us hadn’t seen each other for 43 years. It was a reunion to be remembered forever.
Because our school was small (although our class of 28 was “the BIG” class), we were community. We were connected by church, farming, school events, part-time jobs, 4-H, high school events and sports. Everyone turned up for every activity. Everyone knew almost all the good, the bad, and the ugly about everybody else.
During our few hours together last week, we strolled down memory lane, remembering all the fun, good times. And there were a lot of them. Yes, there were not-so-fun moments back then, and for all of us, there have been some since then. But those weren’t the moments we talked about.
And that’s one of the great things about long-time friends. We know a little bit about each other’s struggles and unfortunate choices—we all made them—but those tough times aren’t the memories that matter. We cherish and recall and laugh about the fun-filled moments. The bad hair, pranks, teachers who drove us crazy, break-ups, slumber parties, parades, crushes, Friday night football with hot dogs and glazed donuts, and passing notes.
I want to keep on making great memories. With those same girlfriends of 55 years ago, and with new friends that have come along.
I want more Chicken Fat song memories that make me laugh for years to come.