Sep 16, 2013

The Moment

There was that time when I was going to the Junior Prom back in the days of yore. I remember it well, just like it was yesterday. It was on a Saturday night, and I was all slicked up.  I checked myself out in the mirror.  I was smooth shaven.  It had taken a year or two to get the hang of the Gillette double-edged safety razor, but I had managed. My hair, which I spent a bunch of time on, was looking good.  Just the right amount of Butch wax in front. I used BrylCreem on the back and sides to get that perfect duck tail. My hair was squared off on the neck, Elvis style. When I was about fourteen I had squared it off myself with a hunting knife using a mirror to see the back. It hadn't gone over too well with my parents though.   Yes, I did look good in a white dinner jacket. I wore my regular penny loafers with a shine that you could see yourself in. Of course, I still had the taps on the heels so that when I drug my feet on the sidewalk they would make sparks at night. The girls thought that was very cool.

Lionel Hampton 
Wikipedia photo
This was my first big date, and everything had to be perfect. I'd spent half the day getting the family Ford all clean and shiny. At seven-thirty I picked up Linda, the Lutheran preacher's daughter. After a quick inspection by the reverend and my promise to have his daughter home by eleven we were on our way. No problems with the Lutheran household except maybe the problem with the corsage.  Who would have thought a preacher's daughter would have worn a strapless evening dress? Although I would  have loved, and I mean LOVED, to have attached it to her bosom, which was rather ample for a teenaged girl, I did not. Her mother devised a way to attach said flowers to her wrist. In about 15 minutes we would be at the dance.  Not much on the car radio.  The big stations didn't come in clear until nighttime.  Then we could hear WLS from Chicago and John Orr advertising Randy's Record Shop in Memphis. That was some good music. Our parents weren't too fond of Rhythm and Blues.  Some called it "colored music". Hardly anything but static on the radio.  Sure wish I had one of those car record players, but soon we'd dancing to the good stuff at the prom.

Everybody always looks better in formal wear. The girls are so much prettier. We made our way through the receiving line in the grand ballroom of the Oregon Hotel and met our friends. We were in the grandest hotel in downtown Greenwood, South Carolina. The music was a big let-down. The faculty had picked the band. It was Lionel Hampton's band.  I can't imagine anyone dancing to the music of the Vibes. It was a bust. Soon people were leaving, after they had the crowning of the King and Queen of the prom, and we followed suit. We rode through the Dixie Drive-In and the Ranch Drive-In on the way to Linda's and only stopped a few minutes to talk with friends.

By the time we were going down the road to Linda's house they were really playing some good music on the radio. Tunes like "Earth Angel" and "Run Around Sue".  And those great songs of the Platters.

I pulled the Ford up into Linda's driveway, and we sat and talked for a few minutes. We sat close together and were thankful that the government had not made seat belts mandatory in cars. It sounded like a dumb idea. I mean, how could a guy carry his girl out on a date with her sitting way on the other side of the car?  I walked her to the door.  I decided that I would kiss her goodnight even though it was our first date. The porch light was on.  I'm thinking that the preacher must still be up. Linda opened the screen door and stuck her hand inside and turned off the porch light. Things were looking better! She seemed to melt into my arms. The moonlight danced across the lawn, and I could hear the Platters on the car radio. "Heavenly shades of night are falling.  It's  twilight time..."  Things were perfect...almost. We kinda banged our glasses together.  Mine were black rimmed and hers were those cat-eyed shaped ones, but I deftly grabbed hers and mine and stuck them in my jacket pocket. Much better. She  looked up into my eyes and closed hers while tilting her head back. Her lips slightly parted. I looked down into the face of the most beautiful girl in the world and puckered my lips.

A loud yelp, bark, snarl came from near my left foot, as I had stepped on the foot of Linda's Yorkie. The little dog had slipped out of the house when she had opened the door to turn off the light. The moment was spoiled.

I never did get that kiss, but I did cultivate quite a dislike for Yorkshire Terriers!



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