CHASING BOYS

            It was the evening of the last day of school 1951, the beginning of summer vacation

between our 7^th and 8^th grade years.  Phyllis was having a slumber party at her house after

a movie at the Clarinda Theater. 

At this point in time, I do not remember who all went to the movie or even who went to the slumber party, but en route to Phyllis’s parents’ home on East Garfield, Kelley, Janet, Peggy, Dorothy, and I walked around to the Southeast corner of the courthouse square and walked east on Main Street down toward the Junior High building on 13^th Street Boulevard where it intersected with Main. 

When we were within a block of the school, one of the other four thought she saw several boys from our class walking south down the middle of the boulevard in the same direction we would go once we reached the corner.  Being typical, giddy, boy-crazy girls, we went gaga with an opportunity to interact with the opposite sex.  This particular evening was no exception. 

The minute Phyllis yelled, “There’s LeRoy, Keith, and Allen,” the rest of us squealed and took off running like greyhounds after a rabbit.  By the time we rounded the corner, they were well out of sight. 

Thinking they might have gone down to the track at the football field, we crossed over the boulevard on 13^th running down the easement on the east side of the schoolhouse.  It was a dark night.  No moon.  The lights from the lampposts on the boulevard cast shadows that gave me a false sense of my surroundings. 

Running in a jagged line down the grassy area between the street and sidewalk, with Dorothy, Janet, and Kelley in front of me and with Peggy following.  Phyllis was at least a quarter of a block in front of us.  We shouted our ideas to one another as to which direction we should go to find the boys. 

When I turned my head to pass the word to Peggy, I didn’t see that I was about to run into a utility post guy-wire.  I hit the wire full force, connecting with my rib cage just below my left breast.  The impact sent me into a full flip around the wire, landing me on my flat on my back. 

The sound uttered forth brought Kelley and Peggy to a dead stop and they shouted to Dorothy and Janet to come back.  They helped me to my feet asking if I was OK.  It had knocked the breath out of me, and as I gasped for air I told them, “I think I cut my tit off.”  They laughed like crazy, but I was serious.  I lifted my light green cotton camp shirt and felt along my bra line.  The small appendage was intact, but I had an obvious abrasion under the left breast. 

A seventh grade, soon to be eighth grade, girl doesn’t let a minor accident get in the way of a boy chase, though, and we continued our pursuit, giving up in the next block when it became obvious they had turned another direction.

Ah, well, that was just one of several stories of my ridiculous behavior during my school years.  More later.