"Oh, she's not in love, she's just in love with an idea."That was typical of the profound wisdom that we often shared with one another at Rison High, remember? And, it was all part of growing up in Rison: teenage angst, pimples, tests, the right clothes... and being in love.
I never fell in love in high school. Oh, there might have been an infatuation or two: I thought our art teacher, Judy McCarley, was charming. Sue Graves was the cutest math teacher I'd seen in a while ('course, my previous math teacher was Mike Leamons, so go figure). The cheerleaders were absolute dolls. But in love? What did we really know about that?
We dated around, of course. For some reason - maybe the challenge of it - we guys used to think it cool to date girls from Woodlawn. Looking back, I wonder why we didn't expand our explorations to Monticello, Star City, Fordyce or Pine Bluff. Why Woodlawn? I wonder too: did the Woodlawn guys come calling on the Rison girls?
As I remember it now, a date - at least in a formal sense - consisted of the dater picking up the datee and driving to maybe Big Banjo Pizza in Pine Bluff, taking in a movie and then returning to Rison. Of course, there was always the "parking issue." Now, truth be told, we guys never really knew if parking was in the offing. And, I don't really recall how we brought up the subject, but I'm sure that if parking was part of the evening's agenda, then the movie component of the date was probably scrubbed (because that would take far too much time, right?).
I remember a particularly embarrasing event that occurred after a night out with a "Woodlawn Girl" that, luckily for me, involved a "parking opportunity." (Thinking just now, I realize how ridiculously uncomfortable parking must have been and why it's probably only interesting to minors). Somehow (perhaps with a bit of luck or a tip from a friend) I located a dirt lane not far from the datee's house. My strategy was that the location would allow us to park much longer; consequently, I would not have far to go in order to deliver my date (or myself for that matter) home on time.
To my chagrin, I was not quite able to navigate the family Dodge out of the narrow dirt lane quite as easily as I had gotten it in there. Come to think of it, I probably couldn't see very well - on a good day I only stood around 5' 5" tall. So, there we were: 11:59pm on a Friday night, the middle of nowhere, my Dad's car is stuck, my date needs to get home and any thoughts about ending the evening like a scene out of Grease were completely out of the question.
So, we walked. Not much talking - just a lot of walking. Fast walking in fact: it's amazing how spooky Highway 35 can be after midnight. When we arrived, I remember my date's Mom remarking that she "didn't hear us drive up." Imagine her glee when I explained that we'd just walked about 2 miles from where we'd been smooching like I was going off to war the next day.
It's not a proud moment in a young man's life when your date's Mom has to fire up the farm truck after midnight only to jerk your Dad's car out of the ditch, where moments before you'd been wrasslin' with her only daughter! Afterward, I endured a much deserved lecture regarding the perils of parking, complete with a stern warning about any future ideas along those lines. Too, I discovered that a peace offering of Sweetarts to your date's Mom doesn't really smooth things over. Also, I found that after such an event, expecting a goodnight kiss is pushing one's luck!
I don't know for sure, but maybe that's why we were infatuated with Woodlawn Girls: there was always some kind of high drama involved with those "foreign chicks."
Yours,
Ken
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