So Ed posted that picture of "Missile Toe" and it brought back a memory. Here I am at age 12. I was in 8th grade and well, puberty had started, but I had no girl. Malls hadn't been invented yet, but Department stores were huge Buildings.
So during Christmas break, I would head over to SEARS, or the May Company, or Higbees, Hale's ...you know the big stores.
I would wear my good clothes, and brylcream my hair, splash enough Brut on to ward off mosquitoes (which don't exist in the Winter in North East Ohio!), shine my shoes to a military parade level, brush my teeth (several times) and then...
I made a hoop out of a wire hanger. I put that around my neck, with the hanger bent to hols a sprig of Mistletoe about six inches above my forehead.
And I wore a little hand made sign that said:
"Mistletoe, is not just a legend, You have a chance to make it real!"
And I walked around hoping for a kiss.
I did get some. From truly ancient woman, like late 20's or early 30's...which, for a 12 year old boy, might as well kiss a corpse. And some Grandmothers came and gave me a peck on the cheek.
But my age group girls? You know the 12 to 14 year olds...the ones I was interested in....nada. Not one. Not...a...single...one. Zero. I would come home, defeated.
My Mother and older sisters (all of my sisters were older than me) and they would try and hold back their laughter as they pretended sympathy for my plight.
On my third day of trying ...I ran into Roderick Hamilton's (My Inner city buddy, you have read about in some of my other posts) older sister. She was just barely 13...and stunning. She had, way back in Sixth Grade - over that summer to Seventh Grade- gone from a 32 A, to a 36 C, and she had that amazing Mocha Skin that Filipinos marrying White guys pass on. Long black silky hair, smooth skin, and movie star looks. But she was very quiet and aloof. She didn't want to get a "reputation."
So I wave as she goes by.
But she stops, reads my sign. And says:
"Kevin, has anyone taken you up on your offer?"
"No."
"Have you ever kissed a girl?"
"Yeah, Dianne ...but you now how that worked out."
She laughed. She remembers the "Mooing" story. Everyone did.
She set down her bags, pulled me towards her, looked me right in they eyes and said:
"Buckle Up!"
And then she French kissed me, softly, slowly and deliberately. I couldn't breathe, and my body reacted ...well, you know how. She didn't back down, just kept kissing me.
People were clapping. Some were yelling out: "Get a room!" Some of the older woman were "tsk, tsk, tsking " loudly. Disapproval dripping from their noises. A bunch of of girls went by and started sining that old song: "Kevin and Darlene sitting by a tree...k, I, s, s, I, n, g , first comes love , then comes marriage, then comes Kevin with a Baby Carriage."
A circle had formed around us...mostly smiling adults.
She finally let me go. I was beet red, and hormones were raging.
She said:
"Not bad. With a little practice you won't need the sign or the mistletoe. "
She picked up her bags, and sashayed away. Looking over her shoulder at me, she said:
"I have wanted to do that for years. Don't tell Roddy."
And she left.
I never saw her again.
But she was in my dreams.