Just came across this photo today. I was probably in seventh or eighth grade.
My mom stopped reading this blog long agoâ€”so now I can make fun. When I was a kid, I had my hair butchered by one of two people:
A. Carmelo, the stooped-over Italian barber who charged $8 a cut (plus the usual $2 tip). All I remember is Carmelo always asking my mom, “Over or around the ear?”â€”a can’t-win query were there ever one.
B. My mom, Joan. Great woman, great mother, lousy barber. She used to bribe my brother and I with a piece of orange Trident gum. That usually got us to sit atop the sink for a half hour, during which time Mom would use this big ol’ pair of rusty scissors to absolutely destroy us.
Also, while I’m at itâ€“tonight someone forwarded me the below photo. It’s from my junior prom. That’s me on the far right, standing above my date, Jody Cohen. Jody and I are still tight friends, so I think she’ll be OK with me telling this story …
I was 17, and had never kissed a girl. Had never come close to kissing a girl. Jody and I knew one another from Hebrew schoolâ€”during the week she went to Carmel High, I went to rival Mahopac. I had always dug Jody as a friend, and I needed a date. So I decided I’d ask her. I called her home, her dad answeredâ€”I hung up. I dialed again, same thing. And again. And again. Finally, I worked up the nerve, and when she picked up I somehow got out the words, “Prom,” “Me” and “Please.” She accepted.
The night was fine and dandy and cool and whatever. What I remember most is the final scene. We got back to my house, and I made up my mind that, on this special night, I’d finally kiss a girl. Asked my dad for the car keys to drive her home.
“No,” he said.
“No. You’re only 17â€”you can’t drive after 9 o’clock.”
Hence, we both drove Jody home. My dad and I in the front seat, Jody all alone in the rear (Smooth, I wasn’t). When we arrived at her place, I walked Jody to the front door. As we strolled down her driveway I kept thinking, “I can do this! I can do this!” And yet, there was my dadâ€”sitting in the car, motor running, looking at us.
We approached the door.
I thanked her for coming.
I … I … I … stuck out my hand.