Crushes
Katherine D. Bennett
(First published in the Lathrop News September 25, 1997)
I grew up in a broad-shouldered, hard working, blue collar neighborhood that was chock full of children. It was during the wonder years, so since there were no videos, VCRs, PCs, and very few color TVs, we spent a lot of time outside, playing with the neighborhood kids.
Truthfully, since my sisters and I are all close in age, we didn’t really need other children to play with, We did play mostly with the other girls in the neighborhood. Boys were used for target practice. We all know that at some time in our lives that we would utterly lose our sensibilities and like boys, but we preferred not to think about it.
We ignored boys, that is, until Mike D. moved into the neighborhood. Mike was a scrawny, big-eared, swaggering braggart boy; we girls found him irresistible. His father was in the military, and Mike was staying with his grandparents for several months during a transitional period during a transfer. He told outrageous stories about stalking Kodiak bears in Alaska and riding the big wave in Hawaii. He would tell his stories with earnest enthusiasm, all the while looking intently in his listener’s face with his electric blue eyes. We girls were captivated by him.
One day, Mike and I were climbing the big box elder tree in our back yard. Mike was telling me one of his enormous stories when, without warning, he stopped, gazed intently into my face and said, “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Someday, I’m going to marry you,” That was it. He then continued his story.
I was astonished, mystified, and entirely thrilled. That was one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about when I grew up. I wouldn’t have to deal with any yucky boys because I had bagged the best one early on. My future was secure.
Later, my sisters, a couple of neighbors girls and I were cutting up the new catalog, when I thought I’d mention it and revel in everyone’s envy.
“Mike said I was beautiful and that he wants to marry me.”
There was an astonished silence.
“Mike said that to me, too!” exclaimed Mary.
“Me, too!” cried out Vivy.
One by one, we all compared what Mike had said. Apparently, he had said the same thing to all seven of the girls in the room. We formed a posse right then and there. Mike was in trouble.
To make a long story short, we left him tied, spread-eagled, to the chain link fence behind the community center. We hung sugar donuts on sthngs tied to a tree, just out of his reach. We wanted him to starve in the sight of food. Fortunately for Mike someone untied him. We all felt pretty indignant about that, but it really was for the best.
I’d like to say Mike changed his philandering ways; that he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t. He was engaged to three girls by the end of the next week. A couple of months later he moved.
I can’t say I learned any valuable life lesson, except to, perhaps not take flattery seriously. That, and that I’m a really good knot tie-er, though I’d rather not tip up people. I’d rather they stay because they want to. That really seems best.