The Sock Hop, a True Junior High Memory

By Wayne Wallace

 

            My mom dropped me off outside the gym door.  I told her that I would walk home after the sock hop.  Yes, I thought it would be over at about 10.  Yes, I would have fun, and yes, I would stay out of trouble. Sheesh!  I just wished my mother would hurry and drive away before someone saw her driving me; that would be so uncool.  Guys were just supposed to just “show up” at these sock hops, certainly not be driven there by parents….how embarrassing!  She drove away and I started toward the gym door.  I didn’t think anyone had seen my mom drop me off.  “Hey, Wayne,” a voice came out of the darkness, “what time’s your mommy gonna’ pick you up?”  I recognized the voice as that of Steve Schmitz, a good friend, just playfully bantering with me, not a serious challenge. Besides, his own mother had dropped him off just 5 minutes earlier. I grinned and said to him, “I dunno’, hope she doesn’t catch me boinking your sister!” (It was the practice of seventh grade boys in the 50s to degrade each other’s family members as often and as demeaningly as possible.  This was a true sign of friendship).  We both cracked up with laughter and together, we walked into the crowded gym.

            It was a typical Junior High sock hop.  So that the highly polished finish of the wooden basketball floor not be damaged, everyone removed their shoes and piled them at the entrances and spent the three or four hours of the dance in their stocking feet.  The band, a less than highly talented group of aspiring high school musicians who called themselves the Mojo Guys, were covering every popular song of the day.  The eighth graders listening to the band were in three basic “groups.”  There were the “guys.” These were groups of boys, standing, talking, telling each other lies, each afraid to ask the girls to dance.  Then there were the “girls,”  also standing around talking, giggling, almost always talking about the “guys.”  A few of these girls were dancing with each other. (Guys were never able to understand this as this was a totally unacceptable practice for them).  And, last but not least, were the couples.  A few brave guys and their lovely steadies, were on the dance floor, dancing cheek to cheek when the slow songs played.  I was in the group of guys, telling lies and listening to them, when I saw her…..  She walked by, perhaps fifteen feet away.  Brown hair, brown eyes, a great figure and …wait a minute, did she smile at me??? Yes!! I’m almost sure that she did.  “Steve, who was that beautiful girl?” I asked my friend. He looked at her and replied, “That’s Kathy Handy.  She’s in my math class.  Cute huh?”  “Cute?”, I gasped….”She’s drop dead gorgeous!”  I was overwhelmed.  “I gotta meet her!”  “Ya’ think she’d dance with me?” I asked my friend Steve.  “Well, she doesn’t look desperate, so I doubt it”, Steve laughed.

            I punched Steve’s arm (another friendship ritual) and started after Kathy Handy. (Name changed to protect the innocent).

            When I caught up with her, she was talking to another group of girls.  I boldly tapped her on the shoulder.  When she turned around, and looked at me I thought I might just faint dead away.  She was smiling, as I desperately tried to think of the right words to say.  (Lesson #1: Always have a plan. I didn’t) I smiled at her and said, “Hi, didn’t you go to Sequoyah?”  “Uh huh,” she replied.  “Where did you go?”  “Cleveland.  I’m sorry, my name is Wayne.  Would you like to dance?” I said, nervously, running all the words together.  “Hi Wayne, I’m Kathy, and yes, I’d love to dance.”  She took my hand and we walked out on the dance floor with the other “couples.”  I heard some of the girls giggle as we walked away.  But, I didn’t care, I was holding hands and about to dance with the most beautiful girl I thought I had ever seen.

            We danced to every song that the band played from that moment, all the way through the “last song.”  While we were dancing, cheek to cheek, I remember thinking, “How close should we be?  Should, for example, my chest be against hers? And how about further down, how close were we really supposed to be?  I experimented with various distances throughout the evening. And this hair spray…..Our cheeks are stuck together!!  They really should teach a class on these things, and how to handle them for young boys…..Kathy was wonderful about all my awkwardness and remained her charming self all evening.  We talked about people we both knew and about other things as we danced.  At the end of the evening we told each other goodnight, while holding hands, and each went our separate way.  There was no goodnight kiss, just two awkward, seventh grade smiles.  I never got up the nerve to call her.  And, I don’t remember seeing her too often in the high school years that followed.  But I will never forget how lovely she looked that night in the gym at Taft Junior High School. 

 

Thanks Skye for shaking loose another almost lost memory.

 

End