This is an excerpt from my book of the same title! Makes a great Valentine Gift....
Back in the old days, the 1940s, I don’t remember ever hearing the term “petting” (though we were in Pacific Grove, a little buffered from the rest of the world). There was, however, the widely accepted and practiced art of “necking.” Now and then our parents giggled about “spooning” or “sparking” in their old days, but I thought that was something different.
Back in the old days, the 1940s, I don’t remember ever hearing the term “petting” (though we were in Pacific Grove, a little buffered from the rest of the world). There was, however, the widely accepted and practiced art of “necking.” Now and then our parents giggled about “spooning” or “sparking” in their old days, but I thought that was something different.
As lusty teenagers, neck we did with only occasional
embarrassment or consequence. Nowadays we read with fascination and wonder
about varying practices of “safe sex,” which seems to be either a redundancy or
a contradiction. We also note more discussion of accidental or unwanted
consequences, such as pregnancy or other emotional distress, than we endured
long ago.
Our simple and highly anticipated routine usually started
with a dance in the high school gym or the Scout Hall, then off to Lover’s
Point café for a quick bite to eat. All this assumes we had use of the family
car. Since it was probably a moonlit or starlit night, we might drive out to
the Point to watch the waves. (What could be more romantic than the sound of
the surf, the pungent odor of rotting kelp, the soft waft of Arrid and White
Shoulders?) And then, we would commence to neck. Part of the thrill—and
possible restraint—was the not uncommon visit of a voyeuristic cop with a very
bright flashlight. “Just looking,” he’d tell us.
Passion is fragile, of course, even in those teenage years.
While the mood was enhanced by soft sounds from the radio, such as “Moonlight
Becomes You” or “Stardust,” it was invariably broken when the station would
sign off with either “The Star Spangled Banner” or, worse yet, by God, “The
Lord’s Prayer”! That would send us home, a tender kiss at the front door amid
the sweet agony of “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”
But the sobering effect of the National Anthem or “The
Lord’s Prayer” was temporary. A few nights later, we were right back at the
Point, watching the surf and holding hands, so to speak.
One night, we had parked on the left side of the road
instead of the surf side. The view was spectacular, the moon and stars at their
very best, filling us with hope and promise. As we innocently snuggled and
breathed sweet sounds, the gear shift a minor inconvenience, we did not see the
fog come in. Wet and dripping, the fog rose from the bay and shrouded the moon
and the windshield. Passion was hardly dampened, but rather heightened to a
point near fulfillment.
Then came a sound like no other. It was crushing,
overwhelming, defeating. A roar from hell, it rattled our bones, shook our
teeth, tightened our braces, and loosened our fillings.
We had unwittingly parked right under and next to the most
powerful foghorn in the known world. It was doing its duty, warning those in
peril at sea (not to mention those parked at the Point).
For us it was the voice of God, judgmental and signaling
damnation, not only cooling passions and shrinking desire, but informing the
world that innocent sins were not permitted on this stretch of Pacific Coast.
There was a two-second blast, a five-second interval,
another blast, a twenty-four-second interval, and the Lord spoke again, ever
louder, it seemed, than before. By the third chorus, some girls were known to
cry, while boys, still shaken, cursed their bad luck.
Up and down the Point engines revved, lights came on. As the
foghorn continued to blast away, we meekly drove home.
That old foghorn has been quiet for years now, but it should
be preserved, as a monument to those ships saved by its warning roars, not to
mention those of us saved from the costs of early pseudo-sin and what might
have happened had the fog not rolled in.
***
Coming soon, Valentines Day in the old days. Stay tuned!
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Coming soon, Valentines Day in the old days. Stay tuned!