Maybe I'll Be Smooth When I'm Sixteen: Step 87

Some social phenomena are difficult to explain. One that has eluded my comprehension is the unique decision of some Jewish parents to give their daughters an elaborate celebration known as a Sweet Sixteen Party. From what I can tell no such celebrations exist today, at least not in the parts of southern California with which I am familiar nor back in southeastern Wisconsin where I grew up and attended them during my tenure at John Marshall Junior Senior High School.

Certain special ceremonial celebrations honoring a teenage daughter continue today that did exist during my teenage years. One such celebration is the debutante ball given by wealthy, usually southern, aristocrats when their daughters turn sixteen to signify their entry into high society. Another such celebration occurs among many Spanish families from Mexico, Puerto Rico, Cuba and parts of Central and South American. When the daughter of these families reaches her fifteenth birthday she receives a baptismal blessing from the priest followed by an extravagant party where she wears an ornate dress, exchanges flat shoes for high heels, and dances a long dance with her father.

As far as I can tell unless the Jewish family happens to be a part of modern southern wealth, or as in my nieces case have some Spanish heritage leaving open the question of whether the priest or rabbi will give the blessing, odds are young Jewish girls turning sixteen may be sweet but will probably miss out on the party. Such, as noted previously, was not the case when I was growing up in Milwaukee.

Now if Peggy had a Sweet Sixteen Party it was most likely held in our basement, and having the good sense she was born with she did not invite her nearly fourteen and eleven year old brothers. My best recollection of the Sweet Sixteen Parties I attended is they were held in either hotel ballrooms or more likely in pavilions in municipal parks.

Another common practice was to have only half of the attendees be invited guests. Each of the guests was supposed to bring a date. While it was all right to bring an invited guest as a date, and it did not limit the volume of presents piled on the gift table since anyone receiving an invitation was expected to bring one, the crowd was proportionally larger if the date had not been invited.

Although I do not recall whose party it was I am quite certain I was the one invited when I went with Jeanette to a warm spring or early summer evening party at the Blatz Pavilion in Lincoln Park. We had a number of mutual friends, but I am not sure if we ever talked before I made the bold move of asking her to this party and she did the unexpected and accepted.

We danced and visited with the other guests before taking a stroll along the walkway past the lagoon and along the creek that feeds into the river. She was short with black hair, dark skin and perfect lips accented by the light colored lipstick that seemed to glisten under the park lights.

Even though the conversation was light and friendly, and the night air was filled with romance there never seemed to be the right moment to make a move. Later, it would bother me that despite my experience at camp my ability to detect the opportune time for making such a move still needed further development.

Days and weeks went by and whenever anyone asked if I had fun on my date with Jeanette and if I was thinking of asking her out again I would deftly mention our little walk and say I intended to give her a call. But, I never did.

Renee and Jan Become My Bridge to Marshall: Step 74

When I received her call inviting me to a party at her house I really had no idea who the person was. I am pretty sure she must have gone through a list of mutual friends and acquaintances and how she happened to know who I was. Some people would want other people to believe that if someone is Jewish in the city of Milwaukee every other Jewish person in Milwaukee knows that person. Nothing could be further from the truth. But, as soon as I hung up the phone after accepting her invitation my mind started racing through all the places I could have possibly met Renee. All the bar and bat mitzvahs were quickly catalogued in my brain followed by any event at any synagogue or the Jewish Center. It amazed me I could not come up with anything about her; not one feature stood out in my mind. Fortunately, she had told me Artie K would be at the party since he was one of the few people I knew who attended John Marshall Junior-Senior High School. As I stood on the doorstep of the two-story limestone house in the middle of a block of similarly well-constructed homes, my mind started to imagine Renee looking like Annette Funicello. The girl who came to the door had dark hair, a big smile, and a bubbly personality like Annette, but that is about as far as one can take the comparison. She extended her hand, introduced herself, and told me to follow her through the living room and downstairs to the basement where the party was being held. Renee quickly introduced me to everyone, and besides Artie K I knew one other person, Carla, who went to my synagogue. A few of her friends looked familiar, especially Karen who happened to be sitting next to the girl I wanted to get to know. After striking up a conversation with Karen, her friend Jan interrupted and wanted to know if I was wearing Old Spice. Of course I was because that was what my father wore so I had put some on before leaving home, but I didn’t know whether to admit it. Since I hesitated Jan just picked up the conversation by telling me she preferred Old Spice to English Leather, but what she really liked was Canoe. She reached her arm across in front of Karen and pushed her wrist up under my nose. To make things right she held her wrist under Karen’s nose long enough for her to take a whiff and nod in agreement. As the music changed Jan asked if I knew “these guys” like for some reason I would know members of a band. Her nose was too large for her face, but the freckles across it accentuated the twinkle in her eye and when she told me in her small voice that came from her equally tiny mouth that the band was called The Animals my face lit up. Then, as they started to play House of the Rising Sun she did something no one had ever done before, she asked me to dance. As she laid her head down on my shoulder and my arms folded around her I knew I was in love. Later, someone came up with the idea of playing spin the bottle. The girls spun a bottle and whatever boy it pointed to had to go with her into the next room to kiss. When the bottle pointed to me I thought I finally find the girl of my dreams and now my first kiss will be with Carla. But, when we got in the other room Carla said we just had to stay quiet for a few minutes and no one would ask us any questions. She was right, and I was relieved. I’m not sure if Jan took a turn, but if she did I’m sure I was hoping she would fake it like we did. For the next few weeks I wrote Jan all over my book jackets, pocket folders, and spiral notebooks. As far as anyone at Samuel Morse Junior High knew she was my girlfriend, and it would remain that way at least until I got to John Marshall Junior-Senior High and had the opportunity to see if I could make it come true.

Nothing to Say: Step 66

We met in Mr. Takarian’s general science class. He was the original Mr. T. long before the guy with the Mohawk showed up on The A Team. For those unfamiliar with the reference he can be found on imdb. Our Mr. T. didn’t have the strip down the middle; his hair had pretty much deserted him. If his good-natured jokes and ear to ear grin didn’t impress teachers and kids alike, his immense pecs, tight abs, and huge guns screaming to burst out of his white dress shirt back in the day when they were simply known as pectoral, abdominal and bicep muscles caught everyone’s attention. He used all of these attributes to charm his students and motivate them in a class he knew they took only because it was required. He also introduced me to her. Actually, the first day of class when he took attendance by calling everyone’s name I paid especially close attention so when he said Becky and her hand went up she would be sure to notice me smiling at her. In the days and weeks that passed and despite my best efforts to say hello to her every chance I had it became apparent there were quite a few boys in class who noticed Becky. Then, Mr. T. in his good natured way began to tease some of the boys that if they wanted her to notice them they needed to step up their science game, because he noted not only was she beautiful but Becky was the best student in the class. In fact I even read the book, worked through the exercises and experiments, and attempted to internalize some of the key concepts, but science was never my strong suit and there was almost no way my best effort would catch her eye. At the same time her genial smile, big brown eyes, and glistening black hair haunted my dreams. In desperation I decided to take action. For some long forgotten reason the Jewish Center was having a dance that everyone was talking about and I decided to ask Becky to go with me to it. Again I was glad Dad had put in a phone jack in the basement, so I could carry the phone down, plug it in, and dial her number in privacy. Her answer was what I wanted, but as soon as I hung up the phone it became a matter of be careful what you wish for because you may get it. Now that I had a date I needed to find someone to “double” with us. Cousin Jim, Big Steve, and Ron were all going to the dance, but none of them wanted to take a date. So I turned to her, but none of her friends wanted to ask someone to the dance. Came the night of the dance I put on my sport coat and tie, my stovepipe pants and Beatle boots. Dad drove me over to her house and waited patiently as I went upstairs to get her. She looked fantastic all the features I’d been dreaming about wrapped in a frilly white blouse and gray wool skirt. Dropping us off, my dad told me to give him a call about 20 minutes ahead of when we wanted to be picked up from the dance. Once we were inside I said the lead singer of the band, The Contrels, was wearing the same kind of glasses as one of the Byrds. She had no idea what I was talking about and that was the last complete sentence we shared all evening. We were friendly. We smiled. We danced a couple dances. We sat in the lobby. We talked to friends. We had sodas. We went inside. We came back out. We were bored. After a sufficient amount of time I asked if I should call my father. She smiled and nodded with relief. When we got to her house I knew what was expected and walked with her to the door. I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow her upstairs, so I started to ask her, but before I could she leaned over toward me as if she was going to kiss me on the cheek, and I pulled away. It was all very awkward. She just smiled, said good night, and went up stairs. Dad asked me if we had a good time and I just smiled. Years later I saw Becky. She was still beautiful. But we still had nothing to say.