The Skating Party.

Over the years, I had avoided riding the school bus as often as possible. The bus route was long for some students, because the country kids were picked up first and dropped off last. Since we only lived a mile out of town, I was the last one on in the morning and first off in the afternoon, making my ride short, but still unpleasant. There were kids of all ages on the bus and some of the boys were bullies. They loved it when they could make someone cry. I’d seen more than one girl or boy in tears. Apparently, the bus driver stuffed cotton in his ears. He seemed oblivious to anything going on behind him.

In the mornings, I could hear the bus coming up the hill honking. The driver didn’t like having to wait. If I wasn’t standing in the road ready to board, he wouldn’t wait long. It was easy to forget something and have to run back. Mom would wave them on, and I would end up having to walk. There were some steep hills to climb and a questionable neighborhood of low-income rental houses to walk past. Sometimes it was cold or raining or maybe hot and humid. I had to ride the bus in the morning, because Dad left for work early while I was still sleeping. In the afternoon, I was in no hurry to get home. I could easily find something to occupy me until Dad got off from work. I could walk with friends from school to the center of town in 15 minutes or less, depending on whether or not we had to wait for the train to pass.

Even though Dad seemed pleased to have me ride home with him, he was concerned about what I might be doing. He often gave me a quarter to go sit in the theater for a couple of hours for the matinee. Other choices for my afternoon were the library, or the drugstore for a chocolate malt with my quarter. Newton was a sleepy little town. Alcohol was illegal, and the only ones using drugs were the sick people or possibly the doctors who prescribed them. I couldn’t have gotten in trouble if I’d wanted to.

Another thing I enjoyed doing was going to my Uncle Willie’s Café where I could satisfy my appetite for free. When I was there, I played waitress by taking orders and serving food to the customers. I liked listening to Uncle Willie as he laughed and joked around with the regulars. Aunt Eva was shy and quiet. She usually sat in the back chopping onions or forming beef patties.

Dad decided he didn’t like me being around Uncle Willie’s usual customers, who were sometimes dirty or sweaty. Many did manual labor. They were mostly blue-collar workers who liked to come in, shoot the breeze and smoke cigars with Uncle Willie, while the juke box blared Hank Williams or Kitty Wells.

My dad never scolded me about anything, but I was often the subject of his morning rants as he ate breakfast before leaving for work. From my bed, I could hear him complaining to Mother, ”Beth is half grown and she’s out running the streets while I’m trying to work. No telling what she’s into. I can’t watch her. You aren’t raising her right. She goes down to that Corner Café and comes out of there smelling like onions and cigar smoke. There’s nothing but trash that goes in that place.”

That was a gross exaggeration because my sweet shy Aunt Eva was there. She let me do pretty much as I pleased, but at least, she could testify that I wasn’t living on the wild side of life. Nevertheless, to appease Dad and spare Mom from having to listen to him rant, I figured I’d better change my routine for a while.

My friend, Patsy and I joined the Girls Auxillary at church, which met for an hour or so on Mondays. After that, I would walk to the baby sitters with her where she would  pick up her little brother to watch the rest of the afternoon, and also the other four days a week. Dad could pick me up at her house. She lived on the edge of town, so it was no problem.

The church club was good clean fun. We earned badges for learning Bible verses and doing good deeds. Newton had a factory which made ice cream and it also had an attached ice cream parlor. Our leader would often take us there for a treat. She was always trying to come up with other interesting things to do so we liked being members.

Some holiday was coming up. Maybe it was leap year or Sadie Hawkin’s Day. For whatever reason, our leader suggested a party where the girls would ask the guys out on a date. In my wildest imagination, I couldn’t conceive of me having the nerve to ask a boy to go anywhere. Since most of the 14 and 15-year-olds weren’t dating, I thought it was a stupid idea. I decided right away, I wasn’t going. Patsy was braver than I was and was willing to risk the humiliation of being turned down by a guy.

A skating rink had just been built along the highway close to a nearby town and the group voted that was where the party should be held. I had never been inside a skating rink, and the only skates I’d ever had on were the kind you latched onto your shoes with a key. Since we had no pavement near our house, I’d only tried standing up in them inside. Mom didn’t want me scratching her floor. Even just trying to stand made my feet slide from beneath me.

When I told Mom about the party and that I wasn’t going to dare ask a guy out, she surprised me. “This is perfect,” she said. “Your Uncle Eugene and Aunt Margie just got here today from Detroit. They brought Dick and a friend of his. They are staying with Christine and Harry tonight, but they will be over here tomorrow. I’ve been wondering how we were going to entertain those boys. Skating is big in Detroit. Aunt Margie’s brother is a professional hockey player, so I’m sure the boys know how to skate. You and Patsy can ask them to be your dates.”

Dick was a little older than me, and he had graduated already so they didn’t have to take off from school to come to Mississippi.

“No Mom. Forget it. I’m not going out with some strange guy from Detroit. I barely even know Dick. Please don’t make me do this. It would be so embarrassing. I don’t know how to skate and I sure don’t know how to ask a strange guy on a date. People from Detroit don’t even talk like us.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them some kids are going skating and you thought they might enjoy going. You don’t have to think of it as a date. Dick can borrow your Uncle Harry’s truck and they can drive the two of you there.”

Mom had a way of planning my life, and I realized I had no choice. When I told Patsy, she was on cloud nine.

When I met Sid, I became tongue-tied. He was what today would be known as a blond surfer-type-hunk.  I was sure he wasn’t really thrilled to meet a hay-seed from the south who didn’t know how to speak his dialect. However, Patsy had never been at a loss for words. She could carry on a conversation with a stump.

When we arrived at the skating rink, there was a room full of girls. None of them had brought a date, but they were surely pleased we had added some men to this hen party.

Sid had plenty of southern belles swooning over him, and some of them had actually skated before. The only other male in the place was the DJ playing the skating music. Every girl there who could skate got a turn sailing around the rink arm and arm with Sid. Dick could skate, but he was almost as shy as I was.  All I was doing was standing up and falling back down. Eventually I learned to skate with my right foot and drag my left one behind, Patsy had to learn from scratch as well. When Sid tried to skate with me, I put both of us on the floor.

On the way home late at night with four of us on one seat in the pickup, everyone was tired and quiet. Patsy fell asleep, much to my embarrassment, with her head on Dick’s shoulder. The guys claimed they had fun, but I was relieved their trip was a short one. I was always suspicious of guys who were a bit too good-looking.

Another year of maturity would likely have made a big difference.