Post # 328
I’ve been thinking how strange the sociological aspects of life tend to be. My reflections began as a result of a television commercial. It was a car commercial, well, half of all commercials are for automobiles. It was a car with a backup cameral, with the driver-father watching the daughter-date on a porch.
It began my thinking about my very early childhood. We lived in a small post World War II community. A block length of Protestants in a predominately Catholic community. As very young children we all seemed to get along. There was never a distinction between us, we were just kids. A changed developed in us at mid-kid-hood. It was about the time we began socializing with other kids. You know, those kids not from our block. It must have been about third grade, we began to “bunch” up. There were circles of “girls” and there were boys, just being boys, determining which Alpha Male would pull out in front, or be top bully.
The circle(s) of girls began being “girly” and always said that boys had “cooties”! They made fun of the boys, as the boys were just floundering though existence. Somewhere in that sociological atmosphere, psychological barriers began to form. With years of “push back”, boys just didn’t know how to relate to girls. The barriers that were established became a battlefield of obstacles to overcome when we boys attempted the first challenge of interaction with “girls”. The challenge of stepping up to ask for the your first date.
We no longer lived on the hometown block. We had moved from little suburbia to no-where-country. We were 12 miles from the closest city and 7 miles down a dead end country gravel road to my school. There weren’t any other kids to hang around with, not that I minded, I was kind of a loner anyway.
I was riding the bus, one way or the other, I don’t recall which, that day was a blur. I don’t know what possessed me. What came over me? There was an upcoming school dance. So there I was, dealing with my first adolescent hurdle, talking to a girl. I don’t believe my parents saw it coming, but there on the bus, I turned to Delores and blurted out, “would you like to go to the dance with me?”. She would have to ask her parents. Later they said ok, and further, she said yes and there I was, faced with a new hurtle. I was, or we were, 7 miles from the school dance and I was 2 years from having my drivers license! Why couldn’t she just have just said no and put me out of my misery? Then the next obstacle came to mind, I don’t know how to dance. (Dancing with the Stars Prospect, I’ll never be!)
The night of the dance, my parents baled me out, sort of. It was determined that my father would drive us to and from the dance! Oh, to be 14 and have your father drive you and your date!
Grab this picture, not only did my father drive, but my uncle, visiting from out of state, rode along and CO-SHAPARONE! We had a 2-door car, so my uncle had to get out, every time my date and got in or out of the car. We couldn’t sit in the back seat and hold hands, because the rear view mirror sees all. And what do you do at the end of the first ever date, on the front porch, when your father and uncle have the front of the car pointed right at you?
Delores and I parted ways after that date. See moved, never to be seen again. I never asked anyone again for date, before I had a drivers license in hand.
Spring brought my thoughts to the Delores fiasco. Life is tough for boys and girls.