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A new one on me. So the kid explains…… “FF” for Forbidden Fruit. She’s look, but don’t touch.” He smiles. “And no talking about her T.” “She’s wacky?” “Shit, no–the brother is. This past summer, at the pool, she walks by in her bathing suit and some kid in high school, turns to his friend… Continue reading “FF” WTF?

My ‘It’ girl. Alison ‘Buttkicker’ had long brown hair swept down her back, no bangs. She was tall, like her brother, her legs were sheer perfection. Not a beauty, but pretty in her own way. She kept her head down, but occasionally you saw iridescent green eyes. I found later she was almost a year… Continue reading Alison

We’re on our way! Three days a week, last period of the day was band class. The band room and practice areas were always open. The Foon was a big band fan–his son was some big wheel in Michigan State’s marching band, to him, this was akin to having a son in the Vatican. Chorus,… Continue reading Junior High School Band

It is autumn, more less. Trees are mostly bare, darkness falls, bruising and binding me after the joy of summer. Steve is speaking as he lowers the shades. “Some assholes I knew said the Byrds were irrelevant after Turn Turn Turn. Just electric folkies. I knew they were wrong. They released a single that set… Continue reading Music Memories 3

Cotillion was a study in an upside-down Fellini movie. Let us de-brief: I guess the biggest thing was a sense of ‘that wasn’t so bad.” Us white-blooded males soberly realized we had changed. The touch of a girl’s hand, the feel of her soft dress, the way she moved with you in sync (granted, in… Continue reading So, what have we learned?

“Ladies, I’m seeing many of you don’t feel the need to talk to your partner. It is your responsibility to initiate conversations with the gentleman who has chosen you as a partner. And gentlemen, this does not leave you off the hook. Talk about school, teachers, the weather, your friends. And you know, it wouldn’t… Continue reading Cotillion Mary

Second session (November) she delivers announcements, paying Homage to Charlton Heston’s Moses. The Chess game is on, she’s going straight for a quick checkmate. “Anyone caught on other floors of the hotel will be expelled. Your parents will be called to get you.” (What stupid shits, I thought. You go running around a hotel, knowing… Continue reading The Politics of Dancing

I dig a pygmy by Charles Hawtrey and the Deaf-Aids. Phase One in which our hero eats his toes. At first cotillion there was a girl in what we called ‘the creamsicle dress.’ It was delicate orange, standing out like a rose in a patch of weeds–the exact shade of a vanilla Popsicle that was… Continue reading Tasting your foot in your mouth

If there is one sacred rule that has been passed through the ages since Moses descended from the mountain, it is this: The boys don’t want to be here, and they will try with all their adolescent might to only dance with 3 or 4 girls all night long. While I grant you dancing with… Continue reading Games People Play (at Cotillions)

Lesson over, the hostess announces: “It’s time to get started! Gentlemen, rise and go to the ladies.” No one moves. Our feet are frozen. The air is thick with pre-teen angst. To our horror, from under her dress she produces a cattle prod. Oh, you don’t believe that, huh? Hey, give me credit for trying.… Continue reading Meanwhile, back at the Cotillion….