Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Trip Three - Debbie Sharpenberg's Basement Window

What? Are you gay or something?

These days we hear this question all the time.
As it applies to myself the answer is, nope, definitely nope. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I believe people should have the right to love who they want, in any capacity they want as long as there is mutual consent.

From a very young age I knew I liked girls. I liked girls a lot... still do.
For me as a young boy there was none of this "I hate girls" business. When the neighbor hood boys would spout that crap, I'd say, "That's great, more girls for me."

The first girl I can remember liking was a girl from my playschool class. Her name was Adrian.
I don't remember her last name. But I went to her house once.
She had a sandbox and an in-ground swimming pool in her back yard. In-ground swimming pools in Edmonton were an extremely rare thing in the late 50s.

Adrian was cute. But we were only 5 years old and at the age that's really all she had going for her, that and the pool. She was far to young to have any functional naughty bits and so was I, but I was still nuts for her. She eventually moved away and I later wrote about her and our relationship in the song Playground Pals.

From that point on I fell for a Joni, a Linda, a Kathie, a Glenda, a Heather (you remember her) more than a few Debbie's, and blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.
They all pretty much treated me like dirt. It must of been because I was like a dog with a wagging tail happily following them around doing whatever they wanted.
By the time I got to my second year of grade five I'd had enough of that game.
I was into music. Drums were my weapon of choice and Ringo was the man.
Dave Clark from the Dave Clark 5 was pretty awesome too (sadly I later found out he didn't play on the records and sometimes used a pit drummer for live gigs.) anyway...
It was time for the girls to recognize.

Time line - autumn 1965.

It seemed to me that some of the girls coming up into grade five were a lot more sophisticated and mature then the girls that were heading off to grade six. They acted and looked more grown up and they seemed to be a lot more shapely and further along in the development of naughty bits then the girls going into grade six. They were indeed, young women.
Plus some of the bad girls were eagerly willing to give it up and let boys that they liked, handle their naughty bits.
Being a bad boy myself I liked the bad girls.
There were three bad girls in particular that were happily more than friendly to me and my friend David. David like me was held back and he too, was a bad boy.
The three bad girls, I'll call Debbie, Trisha and Diane (not their real names).

Debbie lived on the same block as me so it was easy going to her house after school.
Her Mom was real nice but her Dad was a strict old fashioned German and didn't like the boys in the house.
He was usually home in the evenings so no one was allowed in and Debbie couldn't come out to play. So we'd plan after school for some serious face sucking and sliding our hands under the sweaters to feel the budding nubiles. It was uber-exciting and like a loaded gun I had a metal hard shaft and was ready to discharge but for some reason which I cannot fathom to this day I was to shy to let a girl touch me.
My thinking is that we were still in the early stages of our sexual experimentation and us boys were not quite as willing to expose ourselves as the girls were.
Even though we suspected if caught, we would be in trouble for these activities, it didn't feel wrong. For lack of a better word it felt... natural... but on the dark-side of natural.

Ok, some background is required at this juncture.
Approximately a year prior during the winter of 1964/65 I had an accidental awakening, a sexual awakening.
I caught a cold and it was severe enough that I was kept home from school, but long story short, I had found my fathers porn stash in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Escapade, Cavalier and Playboy were the ones I found (but there were more).
As I had started puberty at the age of 9 and stumbled on the joys of masturbation soon after. Now at almost age 11, I was full into horniness. With Playboy in hand I as turned the page, there in full colour like the discovery of the missing link was the completion of my lechery. . Titties, bare-naked women, shapely and beautiful. Like a thirsting man my eyes drank in the storm of skin of these young, taut and succulent naked women. I was stunned... stunned and fully erect.
Stunned that my father was looking at naked women and stunned that there were these heaven sent publications that featured naked women.
What the minister had said in church the previous Sunday was true, God knew what we needed before we asked for it in prayer. Thank you Jesus!

Back to our story:
One dark, windy October evening at about 8:30pm my pal Maki and I were hanging out at the park and I was stupidly bragging that I knew some girls that would do anything I asked them to do.

Maki: Yeah sure.
Me: Really, you know Debbie Sharpenberg?(not her real name) I go over to her house all the time and neck with her and she lets me feel her up and stuff.
Maki: Yeah right. As if.
Me: That's her house right over there. Let's go, I'll show ya.
So off we headed to the rec room basement window on the south side of The Sharpenberg residence where Debbie and her little sister were watching TV.

Maki (his real nic-name) was not a bad boy. He wasn't in that class despite my many attempts to turn him to the dark side. He was more in the geek class, a chicken shit rascal who would bolt at the first sign of trouble, so hopefully he was about to witness something he had never seen before and would never forget.

More background:
The houses in the Avonmore area were mostly built in the mid-to-late 1950s.
The basement windows were a wooden split pane type weighing about 20lbs. The hinges were a swing-up and off design with one stop that would prop the window partially open. Swing the bottom upwards just a little further to 90 degrees and the window comes free from the hinge. Any kid who ever snuck out of the house after hours from the basement knew how they worked and could quietly get the window off and escape to freedom in seconds.

On my knees crouching I quietly tapped on the window and Debbie's sister turned and looked up to see me pointing at Debbie indicating that I wanted to talk to her. When I finally got Debbie's attention she ran toward the window. I tried to whisper loudly asking if she could come out (which I knew was futile as Adolph Daddy was home). She shook her head confirming my suspicions.
Not wanting to disappoint Maki I whisper shouted to Debbie... "Show us your tits." She cupped her hand to her ear to hear me better and I shout whispered again a little louder this time, "Show us your tits." That time she heard me and pointed to the open door of another room on the north side of the house.
I looked back at Maki who was now about 20 feet back behind me ready to run in case Adolph had heard me making my request for his daughter to show us her goodies.
We quickly ran to the north side window shot to our knees and peered in the window only to find the room dark. After waiting for a minute or so we got up and ran back to south side window. As we got to our knees I saw Debbie coming out of the room we had just come from. I uttered to Maki "Oh damn, we missed it."

As she spotted me again, I whisper shouted "What happened?" It was obvious she was having a problem hearing me so she grabbed a chair and headed towards the window with the intention of propping it open to talk to me. As she pulled the bottom of the window out I could see what was about to happen. As if in slow motion the bottom of the window reached 90 degrees and it flew outward off the hinges over Debbie's head and dropped 7 feet straight down to loudly smash both panes on the lino floor below.
Debbie turned and looked down upon the wreckage then turned back to me and shrugged her shoulders. I could hear Adolph stomping down the basement stairs so I waved bye bye to Debbie stood up and turned to leave.
Maki was already half way down the block in a full sprint and I quickly joined him thinking he'd seen some threat I hadn't. As we ran we laughed so hard that running became impossible and we collapsed on a nearby lawn and laughed our guts out.
No titties, but none the less, an exciting time that at least I would never forget.

I don't recall what happened to Debbie as a result of this incident but I do remember that I was banned from the Sharpenberg property (Not my first nor my last such banishment).
Little sister (whom of course knew who I was) had seen and heard most of the incident and spilled the beans under Adolph's interrogation. I counted myself lucky my parents weren't called.
This however, made future nuzzle sessions with Debbie more rare and difficult but on the bright side Diane was very happy to now have the bulk of my attentions and since I had a growing crush on Diane that suited me just fine.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Trip Two - These Boots were made for stomping.

The year was 1965. I was in my second year of grade five.

Grade five was (and still is) a hard year for boys. Especially boys with behavioral problems and I was one of those. Many boys are entering puberty during their grade five year and although we physically mature faster than girls, mentally and emotionally were just a little slower.
Puberty just makes boys positively stupid. Our thought processes transfer from our heads to our penises and it remains that way until we reach the age of 25 or so.
Hence back in the day bad boys usually got held back a year just so they would grow up a bit.
They've stopped the practice of hold back immature and stupid kids in the education system now. Now we're excelling at producing a bunch of stupid, immature whiny Nancy boys, but that's a topic for another blog.

Here in Canada ( in my life anyway) the Beatles still ruled.
Throughout 1965 had 3 albums on the charts, Beatles 65, Beatles VI and Rubber Soul, plus a mess of singles. How prolific was that?
Nobody else in the music business had that kind of output.
That coupled with an effective press machine kept the Beatles front and centre in pre-teen & teenagers minds, ears and eyes. It's no wonder The Beatles had the success they had. They worked their asses off.

The Boy Is Introduced To Desire.
Things were starting to move in the fashion world or maybe I was finally waking up to the fact that there was a fashion world, at any rate, I had developed an obsessive compulsion for some "Beatle Boots".
The object of my desire was not for the 1964 style of Beatle Boots ( see the pic) but for some Beatle "LIKE" boots that I seen one of the big grade 7 kids wearing.
Unlike the soft stretchy fabric sides (see the pic again) of the original 1964 Beatle Boots, these boots had an exposed fat zipper down the outside of the boot with a two inch metal ring that was placed in the zipper clasp to raise and lower the zipper. They had a 2 inch heel and they were hot and they were a perfect shit-kicking boot and for a bad kid like me, well I HAD TO HAVE THEM.
Unfortunately I can't find a picture of them anywhere.

I figured having these boots would be to my advantage as they would scare the piss out of all the other grade 5 peons, plus elevate my status with the young females in my grade, some of whom were starting to develop yummy jiggly bits which I was of course wanting desperately to touch and orally abuse.
I will admit at this juncture that it's true, I was every daughter's mother's nightmare.

Interestingly this was the first piece of clothing that I had ever had a desire for. Up until that point my Mom had selected and bought me every piece of clothing I had ever worn (with the exception of a pair cowboy boots I had requested at the age of 6 when Roy Rogers was my hero).
However attaining these hot, shit-kicking, girl attracting Beatle "LIKE" boots was not going to be as easy as I had hoped.
My Mother said that if I wanted them so badly that I was going to have pay for half.
In 1965, half of the hottest shit-kicking boots totaled somewhere between 15 to 20 dollars.

The Acquisition Of Wealth.
Being the sex starved, ADHD with OCD tendencies kid that I was, I started doing odd jobs, collecting pop bottles and mowing as many lawns in the neighborhood as I could. I never wavered or lost my focus...well except for Heather McIntyre, but she made all the boys lose their focus and I was lucky to be a contender. She'd kiss me when we went over the boards at the skating rink but despite my best attempts she never let me feel her up. Then she and her family went back to Alaska and I never saw her again. Anyway, I digress.

The boots were within my grasp. I had them priced ($39.95). The store was the Henry the 3rd's Mod Shop downtown on Jasper Avenue. The Mod Shop was a 3rd branch store of Henry Singer's Men Clothing stores, hence the Henry the 3rd business.
Catering to the young hip crowd, The Mod Shop carried the best of men's clothing lines.
At the time Henry the 3rd ruled the downtown blue jean industry until local CHED radio broadcaster Bob McCord opened the Jean Joint.

Flirting With Death.
I was still $5 short but persuaded Mom to fork over her share of the dough and then I went groveling to my Dad.From the time I was born until the day he died my Father and I had a wedge...nay, a chasm the size of the solar system between us, so going to him for anything was a rare and monumental event. The issues between us were insurmountable and concerning me he had no sense of humor. Keep that in mind while I relate the rest of this little story

As kids often do, my buds and I would play with words when spoke. We would switch up the first letters on certain words.
i.e. He's a jive turkey would become He's a tive jurkey. or Have you got ten cents would become Have you got cen tents. You get the idea.

Saturday came and I mustered up my nerve. Sitting on the stairs in the back landing waiting until my Father got home, the day had arrived to make my request for the remaining five dollars that would get me the hot, shit-kicking, girl attracting, Beatle "LIKE" boots that I desired so badly that I could taste it.
As he came through the door and before my 11 year old mind could engage, the words that confidently flew from my lips were...
"Hey Dad! Can I have bive fucks?"
His eyes went big and then narrowed. There was a short momentary silence (that seemed to last forever) as I realized what I had just said to my Father.
I had just said "FUCK" to my Father.
My Father, the man that could erase me from existence, the man that could smote the very life out of me.
The blood drained from my face and in my mind's eye I saw my long visualized picture of Beatle "LIKE" boots flying away, Flying upwards to the heavens where I was certain to shortly join it.

From the kitchen my Mom had heard my verbal blunder and was now standing in the upper landing doorway silently behind me waiting to see how my father would react.
Recovering I stammered as I corrected myself.
"Ummm, s-sorry I-I mean five bucks." Quickly adding, "I need it to buy some shoes that I've been saving for."
Slowly with a hard stern look to my Mother he reached to his right back pocket to his wallet that was always chained to the belt that I also had come to fear. He pulled out a crisp fiver and reached it down to me.
My guardian angel buoyed me from the hell hole I had been sinking into and my visualized picture of the Beatle "LIKE" boots was once again coming into focus.
Grinning ear to ear I took the bive fucks and squealed a hardy "Thanks". Though I felt like offering my Father a hug. I could see that wouldn't fly.

On the bus downtown glee was my companion and the anticipation was sweet as I entered the store.
The clerk sized me up and informed me that they didn't have the boots in a size 6 & 1/2 which was my runner size. The best he could do was a 7 & 1/2. I would not be deterred and we pulled the 7 & 1/2s out and I tried on my joy and took my inaugural steps as a "Rock" and a "Rebel".
The 2 inch heels took a while to get used to.
I know my Father hated the boots and mentioned that he didn't want to see them sitting slovenly in the landing or he'd take them away.

My New Life.
If I recall the boots served me well in one scrap, punting the berries of a neighborhood tuff. It was a well timed and lucky shot really and would've happened with or without the boots.
As it turns out the same guy later beat the snot out of me in his re-match. We became friends and I later romanced and subsequently abused the boobies of his step sister who was the same age as us. I don't recall either of their names.

I wore the boots incessantly. So much so that I had the heels and souls replaced once to extend their life.
Sadly in the end after a few well served years my feet grew. The boots were well worn and getting uncomfortably tight, so they hit the bin.

Life Changes
Did the wanting, obtaining and having of the Beatle "LIKE" boots change anything in my life?
It made me realize that I could have whatever I put my mind to having, if I wanted it bad enough and was willing to sacrifice for it.
I also came to the realization that girls really are more mature than boys and they don't only like you for your shoes. They want you to treat them with respect and like them for who they are and make them feel special...
Did knowing this alter my quest to handle and chew on their nubile jiggly bits?
Leave your comments.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Trip One: Bond James Bond

For our first trip we step back to the year 1966.
When I was 11/12 years old and a whole year seemed to take forever.
Girls, that's all that was on my mind. Girls and music. I was still recovering for a serious crush on Hailey Mills and like most guys I had the hots for Brigitte Bardot (seen right).
When we were kids it wasn't unusual for us to head downtown by ourselves on the bus to go catch a Matinee or two. Movies were a quarter dollar and the bus was a dime including the return trip.
My buddy Maki and I were splitting drum lessons together downtown so on Saturday mornings we would be off to the largest department store in town, the Hudson Bay store on Jasper Avenue.
Once inside we'd head straight for the basement cafeteria and purchase a new item called a malt. It was just soft malted ice cream in a cup for 15 cent we'd get a large cup full and head up to the third floor where the color TVs were and turn on the Saturday morning cartoons.
By the time the malt was done it was time to head over to Tait Music (called Music Men
at the time) for our lessons with Famous Last Word's drummer Al Girard.
Those were the days.

For Music:
In Canada for 1966 the Beatles would dominate the number one spot four times, three of those times with something that was invented just for them.
It was called a double A-side single. In other words the B-side was just as popular and got just as many radio requests as the A-side. Those records were...
Day Tripper/We can Work It Out (considered a double A-side)
Nowhere Man/What Goes On
Paperback Writer/Rain (considered a double A-side)
Yellow Submarine/Elenore Rigby (considered a double A-side)
And although the Canadian No.1 spot was held by 13 separate British acts for a total of 23 weeks the American's were showing strong representation.
The Monkees were starting to rock big time with "The Last Train To Clarksville".

Sadly no Canadian number ones in Canada that year.
Check The Wiki

For Movies:
The Oscar for Best Picture went to "A Man For All Seasons" which I've never seen.
The one movie from that year that I did really want to see was "Thunderball" staring Sean Connery but it was rated "R" for Restricted Adult.
Now, I have subsequently seen "Thunderball" about 3 dozen times and I don't get it.?? Can anyone can tell me why that movie was rated Restricted Adult??
Maybe it's because Tom Jones sings the balls off that title song.

Elvis did "Spinout" that year and another big movie highlight for me was Adam West and Burt Ward in the movie "Batman".

Walt Disney died on Dec 15 1966 and 6 days later Kiefer Sutherland was born, coincidence? Hardly.

What do you recall from that time?
Step into the time tunnel and leave a comment.