Rogers60

Today's young ladies can call boys and even ask them out. Not so in the fifties. The one exception was the Sadie Hawkins Dance.

 

Coming- of- age alert! I'm inserting a memory tape.

 

It's my senior year. Being a geek, I hang out at Mr. Carroll's chemistry lab before school (Later in the year I will scramble the fire department using chemicals -- on another tape).  This morning he tells me, "Eddie, a young lady wants to ask you to the Sadie Hawkins Dance."

 

"Thanks for the warning, Mr. Carroll." He doesn't intend it as a warning. He's trying to grease the skids for a young lady to carry out a task that risks rejection from the opposite sex. I have a notion of who she is because there are  not many girls that hang around chem labs.  This is a young lady of substance from the class of '61. I'm not talking about wealth. Alas, my taste in females tends toward fluff over substance at this time.

 

"Flee! Hide!  Run! Get away! Do whatever it takes," I think to myself. I bolt for the chemical storage room.

 

Rats! It's a box canyon! What military genius! "Moron, you're trapped!"

 

Seconds pass that seem like minutes. I hear a shaky voice behind me say, "Eddie?" I pretend to study the fine print on a mercury bottle (I'll bet you won't find that in schools today). I slowly turn around.