A real, live enchanted evening

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

This is the way it was supposed to be: The neighbors would be gathered in the driveway and he would appear, his car just polished, and he would step out of it, dressed in a white tuxedo jacket holding roses that he bought for her.

He would ring the bell, and her mother would answer and he would walk into the front hall and there she'd be, poised at the top of the steps, a vision in satin and lace. Her beauty would make him shy, suddenly, and he would tremble a little putting the corsage on her wrist.

"Have a good time!" the neighbors would shout, snapping pictures as they walked past. "Be careful driving," her parents would warn.

In the car she would sidle close to him and inhale the smell of English Leather and feel the smooth texture of his jacket, and all night she would stay close to him, in his arms dancing to "Only You" and "Blue Velvet." And forever after these songs, caught on the radio and that fragrance, borne by a breeze, would bring back the night of her senior prom.

Except it didn't happen this way. Lorrie Patterson Beaumont didn't go to her senior prom. The boy she liked was older, in college, past the prom stage. When she asked him to take her, he said he had no interest in a high school prom.

And so while her friends danced the night away, she stayed home. Her old boyfriend, who has been her husband for 20 years, has regretted not taking her, for every time the conversation turns to high school and proms, Lorrie sighs and says how she wishes she had gone to hers.

It was her husband's and her friends' idea to recreate the prom for her 40th birthday. Mike Beaumont, Ann Marie McCraven, Terry McAuliffe, Janet Cook and Barbara Beaumont, who have been friends forever, decided that at long last they would give Lorrie the night she never had.

And so last Friday evening it was 1969 again. Lorrie wore a black gown and Mike wore a tuxedo and the Norwood Lodge of Elks was transformed into a high school gymnasium and a disc jockey played all the oldies, as some of Westwood High's class of 1969 shared the dance floor with Lorrie and Mike, their parents, their children and their friends.

She had no idea what was planned. She thought her girlfriends were just taking her out for the night - even when a limo appeared at her door, even when her friends were dressed in gowns, even when the limo driver handed her a gift box which contained a gown her friends had bought for her, even when the driver told her to get ready for "an enchanted evening."

The enchanted evening began with a trip to Westwood High, where the womens' husbands leaped from behind the bleachers, decked out in tuxedos, and handed their "dates" a wrist corsage. Pictures were taken there and then it was off to Lorrie's mother's house where the neighbors did gawk - what was everyone dressed up for? - followed by a quick stop at Mike's parents' house for more pictures, followed by cocktails at a nearby restaurant.

The ruse was that the group was going into Boston. The ruse was that this was going to be a fun, let's-celebrate-the-end-of-summer night on the town. And that's all Lorrie thought it was until she followed her friends into the Elks' Hall and a crowd, dressed in tuxedos and gowns, began singing "Happy Birthday to you."

It was a moment right out of "Peggy Sue Got Married."

But this production was "Lorrie Beaumont Finally Got Her Wish." This was it. This was her senior prom.

Midway through the night, Lorrie was crowned queen of the prom and Mike was crowned king, and he took the microphone, and in front of the crowd, gazed at his wife of 20 years and recited a love sonnet.

Afterward, they danced, and she put her head on his shoulder, felt the smooth texture of his jacket, heard the old songs, smelled once again the sweetness of English Leather, and basked in the longed-for past.

They danced, she put her head on his shoulder, and basked in the longed-for past