Double Dating – Autumn, 1950

You know how it is on a late October day, when the morning chill makes you think you're two months into December, and makes you pull last March’s sweatshirt over your shoulders and hug yourself for warmth. But then, by early afternoon, before you have time to think about it, cosmic batteries charge the eastern floodlight, so that beams of magic radiance warm the earth, taking you back two months into August and making you chuck that sweatshirt and fling open your arms with delight.

It was one of those days that Saturday, that Saturday in 1950 when I was fourteen, so many years ago. Let me take you back to that day, that day filled with youthful bewilderment and uneasy anticipation. I promise to return you to the present, and leave you tainted only temporarily by the tender turbulence of those teenage times. It all started in our eighth grade science class. Temple Smith and I were pretty good buddies at that time, and he and I were fooling around — talking and having fun with Libby Jean Powell and Betty Fasbenner, trying to sweet-talk them, I guess, if we had the knack or even the inclination to sweet-talk at that age.

Now, wistful reader, think back to your early high school years and, whether you lived in Chesapeake City or China, think of how those adolescent yearnings were especially active, sort of in a jitterbugging frenzy throughout your body. Well, that was our condition that day as he and I bantered with those pretty girls. Anyway, it was Friday, near the end of class, and at one point during the interplay, either Libby or Betty said, "Hey, why don't you two come out to see us tomorrow? We can have more fun together away from school."

Well, we talked it up and decided that Temple and I would meet Libby and Betty at Churchtown, just past Mr. Foard's big brick general store on the corner and near the historic Saint Augustine Church, not far from where the girls lived. It was settled: we'd meet at 1 p.m. the next day, Saturday. I was to meet Temple at his Uncle Sam Caldwell’s farm, which was on the way to Churchtown. From there we’d cycle to meet the girls. I pedaled home from school that afternoon with all kinds of thoughts swirling through my mind: "Should I bother to go? Did Temple like Libby or Betty? Where would we go when we got there? What would we do, anyway? I always make fun of girls. What's going on here?"

Saturday morning I got up before dawn to hunt ducks along Long Creek, up above the Marine Construction Company (where the Delaware Responder is now at Capt. Dan’s). But my heart wasn't in it. I was turning over in my head what that double date was going to be like, and whether I was bold enough to even ride out there. So I tied off my boat at Borger’s Wharf (now the Chesapeake Inn) and trudged on home the back way: up Mount Nebo, past Mallory Toy’s fish pond, and through the woods to our farm.

I shot baskets for a while and then checked the clock and sure enough I had almost enough time to get to my double date. So I got on my bike, pedaled around McNatt's corner, and labored up that long, steep hill to Temple's farm. But I didn't pedal with much enthusiasm, sort of meandered along. I rolled into Temple's lane and up to his big farmhouse—nobody in sight. I went out to the barn—nothing but cows. I rode my bike around the house several times and made a few circles out in the road. Then I said, "Aw, what the heck!" and headed out to Churchtown.

But, when I arrived, nobody was there, not even old Mr. Foard, the owner of the general store. So I spun over by the graveyard and rode out a little towards Cayots Corner—still nobody, not even any cars went by. Why did I think I might see Libby or Betty in the distance, waving with happy excitement to see me? But it was the quietest, most deserted area I had ever seen. And so, relieved and disappointed at the same time, I sped on back home, glancing over at Temple's deserted farm on my way past.

And do you know that in school the next Monday none of us said a word about the previously planned date? It was as if that Friday conversation never took place. To this day I don't know what went on that afternoon. Could it have been that, because I was late, Temple had the company of both girls that day? Geez, I hope not! More than likely, I'll bet that Libby Jean, Betty, and Temple don't remember even the slightest thing about the planned date. I thought of my Uncle Ernest, and how he said all the beautiful girls found him irresistible, and here I was not even able to get girls to meet with me to talk. Oh, I was to have some nice double dates when I grew older, but none as memorable as the one I had with myself on that special late October Saturday in 1950.