FIRST DATE

                       

A memory struck me the other day of something that would never happen—or at least I hope it wouldn't happen—in today's enlightened world of parenting.

The year was 1950. My parents, who were in their late thirties, made new friends with a younger couple in their mid- to late twenties, Larry and Vangie. My parents had six children, but Larry and Vangie did not have children yet. I was allowed to call them by their first names at the time, and I'm not sure I ever heard their last name.

Anyway, one day Mother told me that Larry wanted to practice being a father, so he had asked if he could take my sister and me to the movies. My sister was eight at the time. I was six. Mother gleefully rubbed her hands together and said, "Bobbie, it's your first date!"

Kids take their parents literally, so in preparation for my "date," I wore what I thought
was my sexiest outfit, a peasant blouse with an elastic neckline that allowed me to stretch it out
for an off-the-shoulder look. I wore a full skirt and my best shoes, and I waited with high
anticipation for Larry to take me on my first date, resenting only that I had to share it with my sister, no matter how much I loved her.

In the end I recall the anticipation much more than I recall the event itself. Apparently Larry had good intentions, took us to the movies, and took us home. Period. I hope. My sister is no longer alive, or I would question her about that day, now that I have an awareness of pedophiles, predators, and those who groom little girls for future abuse. I hope the day was as innocent for her as it was for me. That is, I hope nothing happened that she wouldn't have told me about.

We were lucky that the day turned out to be an innocent gesture, but I am left with questions. Why would an otherwise intelligent mother allow a man to take her two girls off for a full day without supervision? Where was Larry’s wife when it happened? Did she even know what her husband was doing? Did my mother have any inkling of what could have happened to her naïve, gullible daughters if Larry had been a predator?

I am thankful I can say that nothing untoward happened to me that day, and I hope it was the same for my older sister. When the memory came back to me recently, though, I felt a little astonished and ashamed of my six-year-old self. At that age how did I have an idea of what might be sexy to a man? Even worse, I am appalled that my mother, who also is no longer living, would have released her children into the care of an unsupervised man she had known only a few months, and what on earth compelled her to call it a date?

I hope that Larry got a kick out of acting like a father and went on to have children of his own and grew up to be an honest, happy grandfather.

In light of all I know now, though, I have to wonder. What were Larry’s true intentions? Were we girls the first, the “trial abductions” for Larry? Was he really practicing to be a father, or were we just lucky?