Welcome to another story from Patricia Salamone.. Do you remember your first kiss? If you can perhaps you can share your experience in the comments.
I am offline today celebrating our wedding anniversary… It would be great if you could share the post around as I am not here to give it another boost until tomorrow.. you are in charge.. thanks Sally
FIRST KISS – By: Patricia Salamone
The year was 1958, I was 15 and boys were the topic of conversation. I had two older sisters and we all had crushes on one boy or another. I was still on the verge of being a tomboy, but since I was allowed to go to the church dances at St. Mary’s church on Friday evenings the “guys” started looking different to me. Of course, I suppose the raging hormones helped.
The confraternity is what the dance was called. Father O’Toole would talk with us from 7:00 pm to 7:30 pm about life, religion, and virtue. We would all sit there and when he would ask at the end of the sermon if there were any questions, not one hand would go up. Even if you did have a question, if you raised your hand you would be dead meat. At 7:30 the chairs were cleared by the guys’ and the dance would begin. Of course, we had to be dressed presentably. Boys with suit and tie or sports jacket and slacks with a tie. Girls with skirt and blouse or dress. No jeans, Tee shirts, leather jackets allowed by the boys and no tight skirts or see-through blouses for the girls. After all, this was the 50’s and we were at a church social. Father O’Toole hung around while the rock “n” roll blared so there were never any fights. However, he did overlook the smoking of cigarettes for the most part.
We danced the night away until 10:30 pm and then it was over, so we (the girls) had three hours to meet guys. This was all new to me and I got pointers from my two older sisters.
This one particular night a boy came up to me and asked me to dance. Since my group of girls danced with mostly each other this was a shock to me, but I accepted. As I walked to the dance floor I could hear the giggles of my friends and sisters. The song was Earth Angel and it was a magical moment. My heart was racing and my throat was dry, but I managed to chat with him. His name was Mike, he was about 6 feet tall, with dirty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie. He was a dream, and he danced well. Mike walked me home that night. He asked me if I would go to the movie with him on Sunday. I told him it would have to be in the afternoon because we had school on Monday and my parents wouldn’t allow me to go in the evening.
I had never even been on a date before, nor did I know if my parents would allow it, but I accepted anyway. It was a magical night, I of all the girls had a guy interested in me. “Oh What a Night.” When I arrived home my sisters had a million questions for me. They also told me that Mom and Dad would never let me go on a date. I had all night to plan what I would say to my parents the next day. After all, I had an ace in the hole, you see his brother was a priest! Mike was practically a saint.
Saturday I told my mother about Mike and how nice he was. How he walked me home and asked me to go to the movie on Sunday. I also gave her his last name, where he lived and advised her that he had a brother that was a priest. “I don’t know Patti, you are only 15.”
“Oh, Mom please, it’s only a movie and I will be home by 6:00 pm.”
“Well, I will talk with your Dad and let you know.”
I did want to whine and argue, but thought twice about that and just said “Okay.”
To my surprise, they were letting me go. I was elated. My sisters teased me all day, but my girlfriends were so jealous, I was thrilled. I might have landed a boyfriend. At 15 that was practically a miracle, especially with parents as strict as mine.
I pictured Mike coming to the door in his beautiful black suit with his white shirt and tie, I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I did all of my chores with a song on my lips. “Earth Angel.”
Sunday arrived it was pouring rain. I was heartbroken. I thought it would be a beautiful sunny day, I had wonderful visions of walking and hand holding and possibly my very first kiss. I decided not to let the weather change my hope’s and dreams. I just changed the scenery, I thought of Gene Kelly and “Dancing in the Rain.”
The doorbell rang, my father told me he would get it. I heard him greet Mike and exchange conversation. My parents grilled him about his family and himself. They then called me to tell me Mike had arrived. Like I didn’t know. I walked down the hall to the kitchen where Mike was waiting with my parents.
Shock took over my body, who was this guy? Where was the handsome boy who danced with me and walked me home on Friday night? My God, he was wearing a brown suit and brown shoes. I hated brown. How could he do this to me! Now I had to spend an afternoon with him at the movie. I might as well have gone with my younger brother. Oh, Lord, what do I do now, I thought. Brown shoes, and ugly ones at that. What happened to his black shiny Penny Loafers that he wore Friday night.
The movie playing was “East of Eden.” We took our seats, he bought me an ice cream cone. He put his arm around the back of my seat. I panicked, I knew he was going to kiss me. I could feel it in my bones. He did kiss me. Right there in the theater, with everyone watching, and him in those ugly brown shoes. A few minutes later I announced I must go home.
“Why? I told your father we would be home at six.”
“I don’t care what you told my father, I have homework to do for school and I am leaving.”
Mike followed me out of the theater it was about 4:00 pm. We caught the bus and he walked me home in the pouring rain. No “Dancing in the Rain” either. I said an abrupt goodbye and thank you and went directly into the house.
“What are you doing home so early.” my parents asked.
“He kissed me. It was disgusting, so I left the movie.”
“You mean you just got up and walked out, just because he kissed you?”
“He just kissed you? Nothing else? He didn’t get fresh with you, did he?”
“No, nothing else.”
“Then why didn’t you wait until the movie was over?” They asked.
I looked at them, what’s the matter with these people I thought.
“Because he wore brown shoes, ugly brown shoes, and a brown suit.” I headed off to my room.
I didn’t go to Confraternity for a few weeks after that.
The moral of this story is be careful what you wish for. You might get it.
My thanks to Patricia for sharing this post and I have a confession to make.
I have a thing about feet.. I cannot stand them! So when I was asked out on a date when I was 14 or so I would suggest we went swimming at the local baths. If I didn’t like their feet I never saw them again.. They could have looked like Brad Pitt and it would not have made an iota of difference!!!!
About Patricia Salamone
Patricia Salamone was born in 1943 in Queens, New York. She has 5 siblings. Her mother was Italian and her father German. The Italian influence always dominated in her home. It was from that seed that the “Italian thing” was born in her. Being a middle child of six children, entertainment was self-reliance. She started writing when she was eight years old to entertain her siblings and the rest of her family.
Patricia and her siblings attended St. Mary’s H. of C. Catholic School and Grover Cleveland High School. It was then off to work to help the family. She married at age twenty and raised three children. She was determined they would attend university, and saw that goal achieved while she worked for AT&T and continued writing. In 2002, a trip to Naro, Sicily changed her life, culminating in her first memoir, “The Italian Thing” in 2008. Patricia was featured as Author of the Week in the Palm Beach Post, and her poem, “Angel Dear”, was published in the poetry book, “Shades of Expressions,” by Gerl Publishing.
Patricia Salamone is the author of The Italian Thing an entertaining account of a family reunion in Italy with all its unexpected and glorious memories.
Join me in my hilarious recount of how I explored my heritage during a more-than-memorable trip to Sicily. I detail our adventures and misadventures as my husband and I visited our relatives in Naro. I share how we got to know the locals, their customs and lifestyle, and how everyone seemed to think that “everything will be fine” no matter what troubles they were in. During those weeks, we went through culture shock despite the fact that we are both Italian. In the end, it was “the Italian thing” in all of us that made ours an unforgettable trip!
One of the recent reviews for the book
In the spirit of Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad, Patricia Salamone decribes her trip to Sicily with her husband Mike to visit for the first time his Italian relatives for the Christmas/New Years holidays.
Their experiences, told through her wry eyes, are just delightful. Patricia has a sly sense of humor and as she encounters the familiar as well as the differences of the Italian experience, we learn as much as she does as she gains confidence not only in her limited ability in the language but in driving their rented van through the narrow streets of the villages of Sicily and in coping with bathrooms very different from her own back in Florida. Her love of the various relatives they meet (all of whom seem to have variations of the same names) and the cuisine are contagious.
Readers of this book will begin to feel they know these people, and also Patricia and Mike, as members of an extended family. And one’s mouth begins to water when reading of the meals and all those delicious pastries. This is a book anyone who loves family as well as traveling will enjoy. I highly recommend spending time with the Salamones on their journey back home for the first time.
Read all the reviews and buy the book: https://www.amazon.com/Patricia-Salamone/e/B00E6ZLPY0
Read other reviews and follow Patricia on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7515864.Patricia_Salamone
Connect to Patricia
I am now looking for archive posts for the festive season.. short stories fiction and non-fiction, food and recipes, humour, memorable Christmas’s etc. Please send one or two posts to firstname.lastname@example.org.. I will be resuming the regular archive series in the New Year. Thanks Sally.