How to Kiss a Girl

According to my mother, this song was a favorite of Grandpa Peg Leg Sam's--her grandfather:

How to Kiss a Girl

O' the girls in all creation loves a lover's loving kiss.
And the girls in every nation love to share this heavenly bliss.
But there is an art in kissing, That's what the girls all say.
For the fun you won't be missing, If you kiss a girl this way.

First you put your loving arms around her,
And you hold her in a fond embrace.
Then she rests her head upon your shoulder,
And you look down into her face.

Hug her just as tight as you can squeeze her,
And while your heart's all in a whirl,
Let your lips to hers be pressed...
And she will do the rest...

Now that's the way to kiss a girl!

January 5, 1964.  I began teaching a new Sunday School class for eleven-year-olds in Haven Ward in South Salt Lake.  But this is not why I remember this day.  My group of friends were making plans for the Gold and Green Ball.  We listened to records and ate goodies.  Frank asked to drive me home.  We'd met, maybe even dated a bit, the first time the previous summer or fall, attending a surprise birthday party for his friend.  The friend had a car accident and never arrived at the party.  All of the invited guests knew the friend but none of the guests knew each other, so we all hung around for a time, played ping pong--my first time--then left when news came that the friend was okay.

Frank walked me to the front door of my apartment.  He and I stood in the front hallway, talking about nothing, really, and then he kissed me!  Others had tried but I had been wary.  Didn't see that coming!  I can't speak for him, but in my own head I heard, "First kiss!  Is that all there is to it?  Big deal!"

Since early June of '62, I'd been living in Salt Lake City on "The Avenues" with roommates, first on "B" Street and then at the Caithness up on the hill, North of the Catholic Cathedral in the northeast part of the City.   Once we completed school, we moved to Commonwealth Avenue, sharing the apartment at my Aunt's house, in a neighborhood of older homes.  My cousin, Leone, lived in the house, also.  Fitts' Novelty Shop was at one end of the street, a tiny grocery store at the other, a bakery just beyond that and the county hospital behind us on 21st South and State Street.  The church was within walking distance; my stake president lived just down the street.  His daughter was talking with Leone about a make-over for Carol, who had been "waiting" for one of Mary Jane's brothers--a missionary serving in Austria but due home in June of '63.  I thought their conversation was so silly.  Just before his homecoming, he got a "Dear Frank" letter.  I guess someone closer to home had taken a liking to the "make-over"!

In high school, I dated very little but found fun in the 'Real World', with the likes of Rulon, the dancer and Robbie, the sailor.  There was the octopus whose name I can't remember.  Being with him was an aerobic experience!  He didn't seem to know where his hands and arms belonged.  That pairing didn't last.  Cousin Leone then made it her mission to match Frank and I up.  My roommate really liked Frank.  I was more interested in his brother, John.   John had his eye on their sister's friend, Judy, so my interest turned to one of the South cousins, Tom.   Mike and Mark were very persistent in their attempts to arrange a date with me.  No chemistry there!  So Mark resorted to trickery.  He played an instrument--violin, trumpet, something.  I did tons of piano accompanying and had been his accompanist a couple of times for ward functions.  He fed me a line, asking me to accompany him at some work-related meeting, in the early evening.  "Not more than an hour", he said.  Although Frank and I had plans for later that evening, it seemed that I could do both.

When Mark headed out of town, I knew I had been played.  As it turned out, this evening had been planned in advance, required tickets, was a full-blown office holiday party featuring a formal sit-down dinner at Log Haven, 20 minutes up Millcreek Canyon, a fancy, dressed-up affair.  I was in a casual, turquoise blue wool skirt and sweater with flats.  I was so angry and wanted to leave but I was stranded, with no other way to get home, and no way to let anyone know where I was.  My misery didn't end in an hour, nor even after the event was over.  The night had turned stormy.  Getting back down the canyon was treacherous at best.  Mark wasn't a skilled driver.  It was a scary time.  I had been gone for hours.  And I had no coat!  And wet feet.  At my apartment, discussion was in progress among my roommates, my cousin, and Frank about filing a missing person report.

So why am I thinking of events of summer and winters past tonight, after a warm fall day in October?  I'm unsure. Great-Grandpa's song has been replaying in my head, though I only remember parts of the tune.  I never knew him but I can hear my mother's voice, singing it, then laughing at it's silliness.  Only pieces of the melody come through.  I think of Mother in the fall.  She participated fully, when her health permitted, in the events and activities of this season.

I grew quite fond of kissing after my introduction to it.  And I love the little details of the fall season...they are a part of me.