My Quaker mother believed in passing clothing from one child to another until they were sufficiently worn to discard - or be passed to another family that could utilize them. Being the youngest of three boys I was the recipient of much clothing that survived the wear and tear of at least one brother, if not two.
About the time I took notice of clothes -- I also took an interest in girls. Some girls were quite good dressers and dancers. One special girl with an unusual name, Susan Dear, held my attention. I asked Susan to the eighth grade dance. She accepted.
I knew that now I had to assemble the proper clothes for this very special occasion. A coat and tie were required as well as dancing shoes. Sneakers, tee shirt and bluejeans were out of the question. My older brothers did have the appropriate articles of clothing in their wardrobes, so it became a negotiation. What could I borrow -- and from whom?
Shoes were no problem, my feet fit into one brother's best shoes, and my best pants filled that requirement. A dress shirt, tie and coat were the problem. I had to negotiate. One brother offered me the loan of his coat in exchange for some promises, and my other brother reluctantly agreed to loan his tie and dress shirt for that evening -- exchanged for more promises.
Dance night I put on all the appropriate articles of clothing. The only problem was my brother's coat sleeves extended beyond the ends of my fingertips. My mother quickly fixed that problem by pinning up these too long sleeves back under themselves to shorten the sleeves. A brother drove me to pick up my date and to the dance -- in exchange for more promises.
At the dance all the pins my mother had placed to shorten my coat sleeves quickly dislodged. The coat sleeves regained their normal length and covered my hands and fingertips. It became difficult to hold Susan's hand -- and impossible to guide her dance steps.
I was embarrassed. I did not ask anyone to dance. No one asked me.
Unable to tuck up and pin these absurdly long sleeves that covered my fingertips -- I suggested we go home. Susan agreed, and so ended the evening that began with hope.
It was the worst dance I ever attended -- and I have been to some bad dances.
About the time I took notice of clothes -- I also took an interest in girls. Some girls were quite good dressers and dancers. One special girl with an unusual name, Susan Dear, held my attention. I asked Susan to the eighth grade dance. She accepted.
I knew that now I had to assemble the proper clothes for this very special occasion. A coat and tie were required as well as dancing shoes. Sneakers, tee shirt and bluejeans were out of the question. My older brothers did have the appropriate articles of clothing in their wardrobes, so it became a negotiation. What could I borrow -- and from whom?
Shoes were no problem, my feet fit into one brother's best shoes, and my best pants filled that requirement. A dress shirt, tie and coat were the problem. I had to negotiate. One brother offered me the loan of his coat in exchange for some promises, and my other brother reluctantly agreed to loan his tie and dress shirt for that evening -- exchanged for more promises.
Dance night I put on all the appropriate articles of clothing. The only problem was my brother's coat sleeves extended beyond the ends of my fingertips. My mother quickly fixed that problem by pinning up these too long sleeves back under themselves to shorten the sleeves. A brother drove me to pick up my date and to the dance -- in exchange for more promises.
At the dance all the pins my mother had placed to shorten my coat sleeves quickly dislodged. The coat sleeves regained their normal length and covered my hands and fingertips. It became difficult to hold Susan's hand -- and impossible to guide her dance steps.
I was embarrassed. I did not ask anyone to dance. No one asked me.
Unable to tuck up and pin these absurdly long sleeves that covered my fingertips -- I suggested we go home. Susan agreed, and so ended the evening that began with hope.
It was the worst dance I ever attended -- and I have been to some bad dances.
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