"One Small Step for a Man..."

This story is 100% true.

1969 was a year of massive change that reflected and resonated all across the country. From Woodstock to the Moon landing, anyone above the age of 8 knew things were different and would only continue to be new, weird and exciting.

The Summer of '69 saw me as a 12-year-old heading into the 8th Grade, obsessed with drag racing, MAD Magazine, rock music and GIRLS. I'd been a Boy Scout for almost 2 years and our Troop was one of only a few that regularly held dance parties with local Girl Scout Troops, some hosted at my house since Dad was our Scoutmaster. 

It was COOL.

I had my very first job that summer, a referral from the Willow Junior High recreation department. It involved volunteering at a local library in a shopping center near the school, helping with book returns and reading to kids and general cleanup. It was only a few hours a day, a few days each week for a couple of months, and Dad thought it would be a good way to keep me occupied during those long hot no-school days.

Volunteering at the library was fun, especially since I'd recently discovered the world of science fiction and was inhaling books by Asimov, Heinlein and Bradbury. I had to wear dress clothes and shoes (remember those?) so I felt like I belonged in that clean and quiet space... pushing around a cart filled with books to be shelved and helping visitors navigate the dreaded Dewey Decimal System.

One day a girl came in looking for a book and I was stopped in my 12-year-old tracks. She was my age, pale and pretty with long straight blonde hair and dark eye shadow, wearing a plaid mini-skirt and white go-go boots, looking like a teenage Twiggy. She asked for help finding a book, and after missing a beat while I stood there slack-jawed, we hit the card catalog and I found the book for her in the shelves. With a big smile and fluttering eyelashes, she thanked me and went to Check-out.

I wasn't the same for the rest of the day.

I didn't get her name. I knew nothing about her.

And against all odds, the next time I worked at the library, she came in again.

Now, I didn't know if it was a coincidence but this time I made sure to talk to her as much as I could. She told me her friends called her Spooky (?!?), she went to a rival junior high near the library, lived just a few blocks away and read a lot of books but no sci-fi. Before I knew it, she was gone... POOF!

We wound up seeing each other over the next few weeks. Sometimes after I was done at the library we'd walk to the Thrifty Drug lunch counter in the shopping center to grab a fresh-dipped ice cream cone and just talk. We blabbed about school and friends and books and laughed a lot, all very junior-high but I was crushing on her. It felt like she could be my first real possibly maybe girlfriend and we were 'going around'! She wouldn't let me walk her home, so we'd stroll to the edge of the shopping center, rolling my 10-speed bike between us, before she'd split across the street when the light turned Green and... POOF, gone again.

Then it happened. Once after the ice cream and the goofy talk and the stroll to the intersection... before she left, she kissed me. I mean, a real honkin' French Kiss with tongue and everything! Hoo boy, it felt great as we kissed right there on the corner for the whole world to see. WOW.

The next time we met, she asked me to stop by her house later that evening to hang out. I clearly remember getting ready in my room, lying to my Dad that I'd be racing slot cars with a Scouting friend nearby and then riding my bike to her house, SO NERVOUS. Would her folks tell me to leave their daughter alone? Would she invite me inside to watch TV and make out? What if she wasn't home? I didn't even know her real name!

The streetlights had just come on when I arrived in front of her house, a slightly rundown place with a dirt front yard and a ratty covered porch. I could see the lights were already on inside through the front window, covered with torn drapes.

I rang the doorbell and after a looooong minute, she opened the front door and came out onto the porch, quickly closing the door behind her. Naturally I thought she'd hug or kiss me but instead we both just sat down on the porch bench. We were there for a few minutes, not saying anything, and then she told me she couldn't hang out and that maybe I shouldn't have come over. Then I heard someone inside the house shout:

"HEY... SPOOKY!!! WHATCHOO DOING OUT THERE?? GET BACK IN HERE!!!"

Me: "Soooo... who's that inside calling you? Is it your Dad or your Brother?"

Her: "No, it's my boyfriend. I wasn't expecting him tonight and I didn't have your phone number so I couldn't call to tell you not to come over."

Me: "Your... boyfriend? He sounds a lot older than us."

Her: " He is... he's a Senior in high school."

Me: "WHOA... he's a LOT older than us. Does he know I'm here?"

Her: "Yeah, but I told him you were a just a friend dropping off a school book. He's pretty jealous, so you'd better take off before he comes out here and gets mad and beats you up."

And that was it. Without another word, she went inside the house and I jumped on my bike and pedaled away, feeling hurt and betrayed. I rode around in the dark neighborhoods and after a while went home to my room, turned on the radio real loud and cried like a big stupid baby.

She didn't come into the library again, and even though I knew where she lived, I never rode by her house and then my Summer library job was over. It all happened in the span of about a month, so after a while it seemed like it never happened at all. 

And then it was time for 8th Grade... the cute girls, Friday afternoon sock-hops, Saturday night dances and all the stuff we took for granted. For the longest time I tried not to think about Spooky again because it hurt, but even that eventually faded away and I knew it wasn't supposed to be.  She knew it too.

I'll never EVER forget that kiss with Spooky on the corner of Amar and Orange Avenues in La Puente, California in the Summer of 1969, near the Food Giant and the library, only a few miles from home but a million miles from everywhere.

Epilogue: all the tunes above were on the radio in the Summer of 1969, and now they sound simple and beautiful and meaningful. In fact, I recently heard all these songs on a Spotify feed in one afternoon, which inspired me to write about Spooky. For me, everything began to change in 1969, and I mean EVERYTHING. 

I know this much: I'll always be grateful to have been 12 years old in 1969.

Lead Image, gracias de Google Images; all videos, muchisimas gracias de YouTube.