Double Dating and the Gallant Uncle Ernest—Autumn, 1950

Double Dating and the Gallant Uncle Ernest—Autumn, 1950

Chesapeake City School, K thru 12—Late Fifties.

Mr. Bob Foard’s general store and post office at Churchtown (St. Augustine). Photo was taken just before renovation in the late fifties. Mr. Foard operated the store into the early fifties. Note gravity gas pump at right.

You know how it is on an early October day, when the morning chill makes you think you're two months into December, and makes you pull April'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, 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 Cecil County or Seattle, 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. As I approached the house I started jogging because there sprawled out on our wooden lawn chair was Uncle Ernest, with a crooked smile on his face, the result, I knew, of many glasses of liquid entertainment.

After a while I was able to persuade him to tell me another story about his magic submarine. I had plenty of time before my double date so I sat back and listened. Interrupted only by trips to the house for refills, he told me his tale. “Yeah, Moose, this time I boarded the sub at the wharf next to the Hole-in-the-Wall, and pretty soon it transported me up a long river, one much wider than our canal. Every so often I saw a crocodile emerge from the muddy water so I made sure I didn’t fall in. Soon I stepped ashore onto an exotic but dusty land.

“I looked around me and saw some amazing sights: a large, stone body of a lion with a person’s head, three huge, four-sided stone structures coming to a point at the top, and several slave-drivers brandishing whips and yelling at hundreds of near-naked slaves as they dragged enormous boulders for another pointed tower. I guess that’s why we call that the Stone Age Period; they hadn’t even invented the wheel yet. My but they were a backward people. I’ve never seen anything like it, Moose, not even in the western wilds of Cecil County.  

“And so, just as I was about to clobber those slave drivers and take their whips, a guy with a crazy hat and a long black beard pulled up in a big sled pulled by four black horses. ‘Are you the boss?’ I asked. ‘Boss!’ he yelled. ‘I’m Tootanhanna, the king of this land. And this is my royal daughter, Princess Patti.’ At this point a young woman unwrapped herself from a sheet that had protected her from the sun and dust. When I saw her face and figure I almost collapsed into the sand. She was an outstanding beauty, blessed with pure, milk-chocolate skin.

She had lustrous black hair and dark, alluring eyes, and her curvaceous form, standing above me, was accentuated by a skin-tight dress woven of pure gold. Her fully-formed, chocolate legs emerged from the gold and terminated in a pair of black, velvet slippers, matching perfectly her gleaming hair. I was to fall in love with her, the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Some time I’ll tell you all about it.” With that, he tramped into the house to prepare for a night of partying. I followed him in to check 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 nobody was there, not even old Mr. Foard. I spun over by the graveyard, rode out a little towards Cayots Corner—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 it. I thought of Uncle Ernest’s reality story and how 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 October Saturday in 1950.