On a Dime a Pivot Po

On a Dime, a Pivot Point in Time

My life turned on a dime- as my very first bottle of beer was handed to me; a time before cans. There behind Massey Drive we stood gathered in communion under the crisp chill moon, surrounded by woods and landfill mounds covered in grass, rock and moss, the ideal spot to start out before a dance.

Steve, Robert, Andy -with his thick glasses and a cowlick over one eye, Freddie –in a proper sports jacket and tie. (He blamed his parents.) We all had hair over our callars like the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, Animals or Monkees - but Freddy had a Johnny Carson cut – ah, but he was OK.

Debbie with the blue eyes and infectious giggle was there – (she only lived up the street), Connie with the flashing eyes and button nose, and Ross – was too. Now there was a guy who could dance up a storm. There were very few of us males who could or would, while most other guys hung out along the wall- but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was early November, dark and cold. Our smoke and breath hung on the dank chill with the field mist. A lot of good the cold beer was for me. As it was, I hated the stuff and could barely handle cigarettes – ah, but it was for good cause right? I took a mouthful trying to swallow, but my body wasn’t standing for it. I silently retched, turning off the path and into the thicket. I gratefully spat. Taking another swig I gargled while pouring half the bottle out. Sheepishly, I made my way back. “What a fraud!” I thought, boldly reaching out for another. Ah- grade eight. I guess I had finally made it.

Trying to think of something clever to say, I was saved by a new set of voices – more girls! I heard chatter and laughter. Debbie (Giggles) greeted them. Debbie, Donna, Bonnie and Linda. Wo! They all looked great! But, what were they doing here? Better yet? Had I died and gone to heaven? How did I end up in this lucky position? I wonder if they had even seen me with a beer? I had already ditched the second bottle. Would I have looked different or better in their eyes or just stupid?

The gang began to make it's way over towards Maplewood Church. Thank god – I could warm up a bit. My feet felt like cold tinned fish and I was trying to control the chatter of my teeth. Oh great! What a ‘man’! (I could just hear my mother's parting words as I left the house earlier - "Wear a tuque, it's cold out!" It was still in my jacket pocket. But -hey! I was cool. Right.

It was fascinating to watch the maneuvering as we sauntered up Mcleod. It was musical chairs, but with people, as we vied to link up with a partner. Of course we might have simply been walking up the hill, but not in my teenaged mind. Wouldn’t it be cool to spend the dance evening with-who? I had not raelly thought that far.

Debbie (Giggles) was my buddy, but I think she may have wanted to be more than that. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew she was my pal and that was how I liked it.

Debbie and Donna were on either side of me. How could they? I mean this was me! Could they not see? I was nobody. Surely they would be more interested in older guys. Boy! Were they ever nice to talk to me –they were so relaxed, as if they had known me forever! And Debbie- God- she was the spitting image of Haley Mills! I fought internally over every word I issued, fearing that one of my feet would slip solidly in my mouth.

I mean- I could try, but it was hopeless. Everyone would be after her. I had never in my wildest dreams thought that she would ever talk to me! Did I really existed to these people! Wow! That in itself had made the night. This gave me a new sense of confidence. I could feel it. And then there was Bonnie, Donna’s sister. Were they fraternal (but not identical) twins or something? Both so beautiful, each in their own way.

Just ahead were Freddie and Linda. He turned his head, looked at me and then at her and said something. She turned and looked at me too. The moonlight played in her smile, dimples, the laugh, the walk-prance. Bam -gorgeous!

I don’t know how I made my way up Mcleod.
I don’t remember what became of the others.
All I know is that I found myself in the Friday night Willibrord School dance with HER on my arm.

I do remember dancing in a circle and not being afraid.

My mom, my sisters and I used to dance in the kitchen when doing the dishes –and mom loved to dance. We would turn up the radio and let loose. I had ‘one-up’ on most guys my age (15-16) since they would not dance -at the dance.

But there was a new 'step' out now and people were no longer required to hold hands, twirl or swing. Thankfully mom had taught me one of those - (step to side, one back , one forward) – which enabled me to learn quite quickly some of the line dance steps that evening.

Tonight though was somehow was different to other dances. I could feel it. We had new people this year from other schools outside our district and then there were those whose parents had just moved to Chateauguay from the city recently. The mix was just not what I had expected.

Hopeton and Ross could Dance – especially Hopeton,-from the city – where they probably danced all the time, I figured.

I could see Hopeton looking at HER. Something tugged internally, something I only usually felt in Hockey –competition. I danced harder, reaching out using more of the jitter bug approach.

The music stopped half way through 'Green Tamborine', lights went off and bang! A live band erupted on stage. What the hell was it? How could we even dance to it? They were black and had exploding curly hair, played horns and would not stand still! The Beatles would surely never stand for this! I mean four guys were to be up there singing in harmony. (No?) My little world and culture suddenly got bigger.

What was this? What a beat! Brass and horns! We all stood, mesmerized. The shock of "new" was wearing off as we found ourselves 'alive' and not just entertained.

And then it happened. The singer looked over to the side wall, near the entrance – pointed to someone and motioned to come up on stage! Who was that? What the hell was he wearing?

It looked like orange curtains made into pants- but not straight legged or flair bottoms- no no, these where wide bottoms with sewn inserts on the sides while maintaining a skin tight rear end. He wore white shoes-and it wasn't summer and they were not sneakers. His hair was fluffed up rather than traditional tight curls. His matching orange shirt had a high collar. He later said, “I’m not black, I’m Moka brown!”

Could he MOVE! There he was, up on stage as if it was nothing- twirling and bobbing, knees likes pistons, right to the beat . He knew all the words to the song being sung.

“Bah bah bah bah bahhhh” the horns punched- “I feel good y’all… like I knew that I should y’all…, I feel riiiight…” and he sprang off the stage into the crowd and continued his Watusi like gyrations. One of the stage hands shone a spot light on him and a circle formed.

She was drawn magnetically forward with everyone, while I stayed my ground, like driftwood on the shore as the wave recedes back into the sea.

She joined the the magic circle- mostly girls, to check out the wonder kid.

I glanced over at Hopeton. He too, appraised the situation and had a curious look I had never seen before in class. And Ross, well, he had joined the circle too.

This guy was a indeed a wonder to behold. Jimmy.
My modest teenaged life’s direction, had just turned, once again, on a dime.