Tuesday, December 28, 2010

High School Romance

All the hubbub of Christmas is over - it seems it came and went so fast that I hardly had time to enjoy it. Although I had a wonderful holiday I'm kind of glad that it's over and life can get back to normal, if there truly is such a thing. Things are quiet at our house this week and there's really not much to write about - so here goes another history lesson. If you get bored, just click on the little X in the upper right corner of your screen, okay?

I met Ole when I was a senior in high school in our first hour study hall. He sat toward the front and I sat about mid-way back. He was tall and slim with a mass of dark hair that he combed like Fonzie on Happy Days. Every morning during the Pledge of Allegiance he would turn around and give me a big smile. One day before classes started he asked me to go to the library with him, which was one of our options instead of going to study hall.

This time was supposed to be used for studying but of course, THAT didn’t’ happen when we were able to sit next to each other. There was a lot of whispering and note writing and hand holding that went on during that time, but not a lot of studying. Imagine that!! Ole would slide his chair right up next to mine, and periodically, the librarian would come over and slide them back apart. He would never say anything, just move the chairs apart (snicker). Years later we ran into him and the first thing he exclaimed was that he was glad we had gotten married and then chuckled. He was a good egg.

Ole and I always sat on the far end of the room from the flag, so that when everyone stood to say the Pledge of Allegiance they were all facing away from us. Imagine my surprise during this time when he turned and gave me a great big smack on the lips!! Right there in the library – everyone standing with their back to us, hands over their hearts and Ole is kissing me!! That Ole was a conniving young man, all right.

I asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance that fall, and from then on we were an item. He was driving a 1949 Ford at that time, which was his pride and joy. Even way back then he was into cars – building, painting, and being “cool.” It was dark blue and had loud pipes. It was pretty impressive.

January came, and it was time for the Winter Snowball dance at school. All the girls had been shopping for dresses, or making their own. The song “She Wore Blue Velvet” was popular at that time, so I worked for weeks and sewed my own blue velvet gown. The week before the dance somebody ran into Ole’s ’49 Ford – hit and run when it was parked in the street in front of his house – it was no longer drivable. So Ole asked his dad if he could borrow his car for that night – but the answer was no. Ole’s dad was a mean boozer, and did anything/everything he could in his lifetime to alienate his kids. Ole had another car that ran, a 1954 Ford, but it didn’t have a heater – it had been completely removed at some point for parts I suppose. So the night of the dance came, and of course in January it was way below zero. Ole drove the ten miles to my house to pick me up and we started back to town for the dance. It was windy that night with blowing snow and we were getting pretty cold in this car without a heater. All of a sudden the hood flew up – over the windshield putting a crack in it, and landed in the middle of the highway behind us. Unfortunately there was a big truck oncoming in the other lane, and before Ole could get out and get the hood picked off the middle of the highway the truck hit it and it was flat as a pancake.

Well, that took care of what little engine heat had managed to get into the car – and from there on it was Icicle City. I distinctly remember when he brought me home that night it was 35 degrees below zero. My Dad was up waiting for us and was very adamant about Ole spending the night at our house because it was too cold to drive back to town in a car without a heater. But Ole wouldn’t do it and headed for home. Fortunately he made it because temperatures like that are very life threatening.

Then in the spring came the Prom. Back then it was ritual for couples to stay out all night following the Prom. There were no organized functions after the Prom – just house parties. Of course I informed my parents I wouldn’t be home until morning, as I had always had a curfew and abided by it (goody-two-shoes, ya know?) Even though they knew I wouldn’t be home until morning I can still remember how guilty I felt when I walked in the door just as the sun was coming up and my Dad was sitting at the table having coffee. Why did I feel that way? I couldn’t tell you – because I hadn’t done anything wrong. Just my ScandiHOOvian upbringing, I guess.

Then there was the night we double-dated with Vickie and her boyfriend, Roger. Ole had his sources and was able to score on a 12-pack of Buckhorn beer. Buckhorn was $1 a 6-pac back then. And it tasted like it too – but then I’ve never been much of a beer connoisseur so what did I know? But I drank it because it was the cool thing to do. We were parked on a country road one cold winter night, and of course after consuming a couple of Buckhorns, Vickie and I had to go to the bathroom. Well, obviously there’s no facilities on a country gravel road and we couldn’t make it back to town, so we opted to get out and go behind the car. The guys promised they would be good – ya, sure. Now Ole had dual exhausts on his car, and just as Vickie and I got into “position” what should he do but gun the engine!! I had squatted off to one side, but Vickie was right in front of one of the pipes – and after the engine had been idling for a while moisture had collected in the exhaust pipe. So when Ole gunned the engine Vickie got sprayed with cold water right on her bare backside. In her shock she went flying away from the back of the car right in mid-pee!! Ole still roars when he talks about that night.

What a conniver that Ole was.

There’s more – but this is getting long so I’ll save it for another day. And besides, Lovely Daughter reads here so I don’t want to expose TOO MUCH of my past (snicker). Hi, Lovely Daughter!!!

Love Lena


Anonymous said...

That account of your high school romance is hilarious.

Marge said...

I love your history lessons! They closely parallel ours early times together! Those were the days!