First Date

It was 1961 and I was in the seventh grade at Olympus Junior High. I felt very grown-up when I was asked on my first date to our school's dressy night dance. (Yes, unbelievably in those days the school board allowed date-dances in Junior High.) It didn't matter that I hardly knew the boy who asked me, a skinny, geeky guy with thick horned-rimmed glasses. I'll call him Freddy.

I was going on my first date at the age of twelve.

My mother worked at ZCMI, a department store at the first Mall in Salt Lake City. She bought me a drindl-style jumper with a frilly white blouse and a new pair of black, patent-leather Mary-Jane shoes. I bristled at the idea of nylon stockings (I don't think I even wore a bra at the point), but knew it was part of growing up. Gratefully, she didn't allow me to wear high heels at that age.

The night of the dance arrived and Freddy's father drove. They picked me up at 7:00 PM sharp. As I slid into the large front seat between the dad and my date, the radio began to blare "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady. I was so embarrassed I wanted to cry and hoped that neither one noticed the irony except me.

The song droned on throughout our ride to the Junior High as Freddy Eynsford-Hill serenaded the lovely Eliza Doolittle. It was a song with which I was very familiar since we had an LP of the Broadway soundtrack. I thought we'd never arrive at the dance.

And oh! The towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near.
The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear!

The gymnasium was decorated with crepe-paper and the lights were low, but the dance was totally uneventful as we waltzed two-feet apart in a large circle. We didn't talk much. Neither of us knew what to say. The ninth graders were dancing much to close for comfort. ICK!

After the dance, Freddy's dad picked us up. (Had Mr. Eynsford-Hill been waiting in the parking lot the whole time?) Freddy's best friend plus date (J and B) got into the back seat of the car for a ride home.

Freddy asked his dad to take us to Paul's Ice Cream Parlor for an after dance treat. We went inside the parlor and sat at a table. Of course, Mr. E-H remained in the car.

None of us had any money except Freddy, but he proudly announced he was paying and we could order anything on the menu---as long as it was under 25 cents! J, B and I each ordered a single-scoop ice cream cone while Freddy ordered a giant banana-split!

We finished our cones quickly, then sat for twenty-minutes watching Freddy gorge, gobble, slurp and devour his gooey, yummy, decadent treat.

As I arrived home, I remember thinking, "I hope I don't have to go on a date for a long, long time!" Looking back on it now, it's a funny story. Then it was a painful event, something to endure like the dentist's chair.

What was your first date like? How old were you? Was it fun or agonizing?

Lost in Paradise - Hawaii 1969 (Chapter Three)

As our flight approached Oahu, the United 747 circled over Pearl Harbor just as a huge explosion billowed above a ship in the bay. Out our windows, we saw fighter planes with the Japanese flags shooting at other ships in the harbor . . .then came more explosions.

No, it wasn't December 7, 1941 and we weren't in a time warp. The Captain of our flight announced to the passengers that the movie Tora! Tora! Tora! was being filmed and it was supposed to be the most authentic World War II film to date. It was a strange introduction to paradise. It was 1969 and the U.S. was in the middle of another war and here we were landing during the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

We spent two weeks looking for an apartment we could afford, one without cockroaches the size of a shoe. Both goals were tricky. We couldn't agree on location or cost, but that got squared away. We eventually decided to sub-let an apartment from two nuclear submarine sailors who were shipping out (for the South China Sea) for three months. We originally planned on staying in Hawaii for six months, so we thought we'd have to move when the sailors returned. However, three of us decided to leave the island after only three months (family problems) and our other two roommates talked the sailors out of their lease. Things worked out housing-wise.

Woodrose Apartments

on Amana St., Ala Moana
We lived on the 11th floor

View from our Lanai

My first job was as a waitress at a Chinese diner which lasted about five days. The owners yelled at me in Mandarin, I dropped too many dishes, ran my legs off and the tips were lousy. J. found a job as a cocktail waitress and her tips were excellent, but she had to learn the names of all the alcoholic beverages and how they were made. Plus she had to work in a dark, smokey place at night. She was legal age (20) and I wasn't, so a cocktail-waitress job was not an option for me. N. obtained a job as a secretary at the Hawaiian Tuna Packing Co. and we were guaranteed all the free fish we could eat! Our other J. worked at Dole and brought home tons of pineapple. We seldom bought food.

Finally I found a job at the Bank of Hawaii as a teller, which included teller training school for two weeks at the uptown Honolulu branch. During the training I made some posters which the Vice President in charge of advertising saw and he wanted to hire me for his department. The head of Tellers would not release me from my contract. Thus ended my career in advertising before it ever got off the ground.


When I graduated from training, I was placed in the Waikiki branch--obviously the choice spot--but also one of the busiest branches.


During our off hours, we hung-out at the beach or at the International Market Place in Waikiki--

Makapuu Beach

International Market Place

(Great shops and Macadamia Nut Ice Cream!)

Since we obviously didn't have cars, we walked a lot or took the bus--

One night when bored, we decided to take a bus round-trip just to see more of the island. We were giggling at the back of the bus, annoying the other passengers and the driver. We had no idea where the bus was going and we didn't care. We were in HAWAII. After most of the passengers were gone, the bus turned onto a steep mountain lane. It was very dark (no city lights) and there was only one real passenger left. The old Chinese man pulled the stop cord near a tiny convenience store and stepped out into the night. The bus kept going up the hill on an increasingly narrow, bumpy road. It turned onto a cul de sac, stopped and the driver got out, turning off the lights and locking the doors.
At first, we sat quietly wondering if the ogre driver was going to return. Finally, we started screaming. The door slammed opened and the driver yelled, "I'm just out here smoking, for heaven's sake!" Only he didn't say "For heaven's sake." He then went into a tirade, saying he wasn't going to take us back to town. He was off-duty and we were idiots! By this time, the tears were flowing and they were real. "Please," we pleaded. We added up our loose change. It came to about eleven dollars and some odd cents which we handed to him. "That won't even pay for the gasoline, let alone my time." He could see we were terrified, truly repentent and he was enjoying it immensely. He snorted a hideous, sinister laugh. "Just joking, girls. Hope you learned a lesson!" Back in the driver seat, he turned the bus around and headed back to Honolulu. We arrived at the bus terminal at midnight. Chastened, we crept down the steps and vowed we'd never again take a bus JUST FOR FUN.


IT HAPPENED IN HAWAII:

• While waiting for a bus to take us to a movie, the wind was blowing so hard it blew a contact lens from my eye. I only owned one pair. Therefore, all four of us spent a half hour on our hands and knees on a gritty sidewalk searching for my lens. Unbelievably we found it!
• A nuclear submarine sailor proposed to me via ham operator from aboard the sub when it docked briefly in Guam. Everyone aboard the sub heard the proposal and the refusal, as well as the ham operator in Guam, the ham operator in Honolulu, the telephone operator who called me and half the apartment building because I had to shout so loud to be heard. He'd only known me for two weeks! I was so embarassed.
• We attended a Tom Jones concert at the Ilikai Hotel. It's true what they say. Women did throw their underware and hotel keys on stage!
• I tried to buy a pair of shoes, but none of the stores carried my size. (Japanese, Chinese, Polynesian women must have tiny feet.)
• I got on an elevator at the Bank of Hawaii and I was a head taller than the twelve other passenagers. I was also the only blond and only Caucasian.
• When I told people I was from Utah, most had never heard of the place. Two Japanese boys thought I said "Yukon" and said, "Oh, Canada!"

On our first night in Hawaii, we witnessed a truly awesome sunset!

PLACES I DIDN'T SEE WHILE IN HAWAII:

• 
  
  Punchbowl National Memorial Cemetery
  
  
  
• 
  
  Diamond Head National Park
  
  
  
• 
  
  USS Arizona memorial
  
  
  
• 
  
  Polynesian Cultural Center
  
  
  
• 
  
  BYU Hawaii
  
  
  
• 
  
  Any of the other islands
  
  
  
• 
  
  A hula dance, a luau, a roasted pig, poi or anyone playing a ukelele
  
  
  

My 40th Reunion Calamity

My Infamous Black Knit Top

The day of our 40th High School Reunion finally arrived. It was a sweltering August afternoon and I knew I would be soaking wet after running around and setting up equipment. I wore my grubby work clothes and packed my "Reunion Outfit", so I could change later. While packing the car, my bag was open on my bed with clean underwear, slip, panty hose, dress shoes, my skirt, my black knit-shirt, my hair dryer, make-up kit. I rechecked my list three times, then left for Little America at 3:00 PM.

I arrived at the hotel and put all my bags and equipment on a hotel cart to transport to the appointed ballroom. The hotel "tech" geek helped me set up the PowerPoint projector, hooking it up to my computer and the ballroom sound system. The large screen was on the stage and the projector/computer were lined up, ready to go. As predicted, I was sweating profusely by the time I was done with the set-up.

I grabbed my "personal" bag and rushed to the Ladies' Restroom just as guests started to arrive for the Silent Auction. In the restroom, I got out the hair dryer and started drying my hair. Then I stepped into a stall and stripped down to my birthday suit. I washed, dried and began dressing. I put everything on except my top --- but where in the world was my black top!? The top was not in my bag. Where could it be? What was I to do?

I didn't have a cell phone with me. My former classmates were arriving just outside the restroom door--wearing their Sunday Best. No one came into the restroom to rescue me. I couldn't leave without a blouse, so I did the only thing I could do. I took off my good clothes, folded them neatly and put them back into the bag. I put on my wet, grungy work clothes and crept sheepishly into the foyer to look for help.

I found a friend with a cell phone and called home. My husband had already left to come downtown to the reunion. I sat down and started to cry. "This can't be happening!" It was worse than all the Nightmares I'd been having for over a year. Finally my husband arrived. He looked at me curiously, wondering why I wasn't dressed.

"Bill, what am I going to do? I don't have a blouse and the reunion is starting!" I cried.

"Were you going to wear the black knit top?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Well, I saw it on the bed, but Persy (our cat) was sleeping on top of it, so I thought you'd taken another blouse!"

"But I have nothing else to wear!"

I told Bill we'd have to go home, so I could change (1/2 hour home, 1/2 hour back). I would miss the first hour of the reunion. I then tried to find my purse and the bag with my clean dress clothes. In my panic, I'd forgotten where I set them down. After a frantic 15 minutes search, I located my belonging and we drove home.

We decided that Persy had seen my open bag on the bed and had decided the black knit top looked like a comfortable bed. He pulled it out of the bag, kneaded it for awhile and then curled up for an afternoon nap.

At home I redressed, redid my hair and make-up while my husband brushed cat hair off the infamous black knit top. Finally in one-piece, we returned to the hotel in time for the dinner and the program. I had missed the Silent Auction and the picture taking (okay with me).

The rest of the evening went fairly well. Except when it was my turn to start the PowerPoint and couldn't get it to work. Again, after a few tense moments with 200 people waiting, a techno geek stepped forward to help.

The PowerPoint (a fun synopsis of the '60s and our school, with '60s music) was a huge hit. We had pulled it off a successful reunion---I lived through it and the nightmares stopped.

My Infamous Feline

Agony of de-FEET

Pep Club is supposed to be a highlight of a young woman's high school experience. For me, it turned out to be just one embarassing moment after another.

I never took dance or gymnastics as a child, so it was my first real attempt at trying to be coordinated. Luckily, the year I tried out, there were hundreds of other uncoordinated sophomores and juniors vying for positions. I made it into the club purely through sheer enthusiasm!

Olympus High Pep Club 1965-66 chose a grand total of 90 girls! When we marched at half-time, I could try to hide in the crowd. As a member of the largest pep club EVER, I spent seventh period class my entire Junior year learning to march in formation to drums, Tiajuana Brass numbers and the High School Pep Band. (This substituted for gym class, so it was a good deal.) Our drill mistress spent hours and hours each week devising new drills to impress the crowds in the stands. Then we spent a week or two trying to follow her instructions. We also learned hand motions to the cheers, so that as we sat in the stands during the football or basketball games, we could cheer along with the cheerleaders, yelling and waving our white-gloved hands.

Pep Club for me was about making friends, going to slumber parties, giggling during the games, going hoarse from screaming and basically having a good time. Learning the marches and hand motions was purely coincidental. I learned quickly that I have two left feet, no sense of direction and absolutely no rhythm, although I had an endless amount school spirit to make up for all the other flaws. Klutz!

Many times I was flustered on the football field or basketball court when I turned left instead of right; when my arms went up instead of down; or when I started with my left foot instead of my right.

However, my most humiliating pep club moment happened off the field. During seventh period on the day of a big home football game, we practiced our half-time march in the gym and as soon as school was over, we were expected to vacate the gymnasium and the girls' lockerroom quickly so the opposing school's football team could use the girls' locker-room to change into their uniforms.

Well, after school on this particular game day, I really needed to go . . . it would only take a second, so I decided to use the potty in the locker room. I entered the stall, pulled up my pep club uniform (see above), pulled down my "petti-pants" and sat down. Just as things got "moving," so to speak, two strapling young men entered the restroom, one going into the stall on my right, the other into the stall on my left. Now, the stall walls were not very high. Definitely not high enough to hide me from two tall, muscular football players. They looked over the walls and saw me sitting there with a very red face. They thought nothing of it and continued to stand there to do their business. I quickly pulled things up and rushed from the rest room into the locker room just in time to see twenty-five young men in various states of undress! And that wasn't even the worst part!

The Pep Club sat in the stands directly behind the opposing team. The guys kept turning around, pointing at me and chuckling. Then just before half-time, we had to exit the stands and stand right in front of their bench while waiting to go onto the field. All the young men recognized me as "the girl who was peeing." I had to march by and smile as I passed those guffawing guys. I'm so glad I made their day. By the way, Granger High lost the game 10-3!

Our Cheerleaders