Events that exist in memory wander through my mind. In my advanced years, the stories stack up like discarded newspapers reaching to the ceiling. One episode protrudes from the pile and brings belly-shaking laughter as my thoughts travel back to the 1950s and my teens.
“Stop squirming and turn around,” my sister, Susan, scolded as she dressed our cousin, Babe, for an illegal date.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Babe’s worried voice said.
“Oh, it’ll be fine. No one will know,” Susan assured her in a stage whisper.
We were in the bedroom, my sister and I shared. Our beds and dressers shoved against the walls left the middle open for their antics. With interest, I watched as Susan took control of the situation as though she knew what she was doing. At fifteen, neither girl was allowed to go on dates with boys in cars. That privilege was reserved until they were sixteen and not a day before. Nor were they allowed to attend house parties without our parents knowing where, when, with whom, plus they wanted to speak to the adults that would chaperone. Still, the tingle of rebellion quivered through the girls as they prematurely testing that freedom. Nothing short of our parents finding out was going to stop them.
The words “let’s party” in the middle of the […]