A miniature golf course in the 1960’s on the New Jersey shore.
I was shopping for food and was transported to a miniature golf course.
I am 16 years old.

While walking down the produce aisle at the Whole Foods Market, (a food store that specializes in supposedly healthier food, some organic, and decidedly higher priced than regular food stores) my Cerebral Jukebox honed in on soul music playing in the background, Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get. I was happy.  I felt like dancing.  I flirted with the produce guy over a bunch or cilantro, I boogied over to the radishes.  I looked at faces staring intently at the ears of corn and white peaches.  No one else was on planet 60’s with me. I decided to make gazpacho. I grinned all the way over to the peppers.

And then the associated memories started to flood.  You know me by now; you know this is my usual synesthesia moment, and I have to roll with it.  It’s when my brain buys the movie ticket and pushes me into the theater against my will.  I find a comfy seat and watch the screen.

I am 16 years old and on a double date.  I am with Steve, the young man I would eventually marry, not 3 years later.  I would be entering my final term at Seward Park High School, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.  I would be graduating early, on a frigid January night, and beginning college the next day, dragging up to Harlem on the A train to The City College of New York.  Snow would be piled high everywhere. I would be an adult, or so I thought.

But this night there are no worries.  We are with my friend Jayne and her boyfriend, Les.

I’ve known Jayne since Junior High School.  We are nice kids hanging out at a miniature golf course somewhere on Long Island on a warm summer evening.  There are speakers overhead on tall poles near the bright lights that illuminate the blackness of the sky, the golf course, and tons of flying moths.  The only thing to think about or to be concerned about, is getting the ball into the hole, and having fun.  We are sweet, we look innocent, though innocence has passed.  It was the age of soul, Motown, the best music that ever was. In between putts and as the songs melded one into the other, Les would lip sync to the Temps and the Tops. We would laugh; how could you not?  Les, a nice Jewish kid with glasses, reddish-gold hair and a few extra pounds, lipsyncing to My Girl; Les, who wasn’t black and could never come close to having the charisma of the Four Tops. Les, who would eventually marry my friend Jayne and who, at that moment, was happy as a summer clam; he was totally unselfconscious. 

That’s what youth does to you. It helps you feel joy.

This perfect movie clip was playing in my head was a preview of what was to come:

It was before The Summer of Love , when Steve and I would marry in 1967, and the world would change.  I would be 19,  and he would be 20, no, 20½. It was several years before Jayne and Les would marry and move to Hempstead Long Island.  Maybe a year after she started to fall apart; she would pile on the pounds, her breasts would become huge, and her blond hair would go brassy.  Les would continue mouthing to the radio.  They would get divorced.  She would tell me their marriage was never consummated.

My memory has always been good, it’s always been whole, it’s fed me with nostalgia. And so I remember:

It was a year before Steve and I would book a flight on Delta Airlines and fly down to Florida against my parents’ wishes.  I wasn’t even old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes.

[mp3j track=”WhatchaSeeIsWhatchaGet.mp3″]

reply starfishred wrote on Apr 28, ’10 🙂

reply josfreshlybrewedmood wrote on Apr 29, ’10 sanssouciblogs said That’s what youth does to you. It helps you feel joy. Indeed, Sue! I like the way you described how you get a movie in your head that captivates you and takes you back.  And what would life be without the nostalgia of sweet memories?

reply sousonne wrote on Apr 29, ’10 Even when I was young, I never cared for the male Motown group sound much.  I did like most of what the Supremes did, and a few of the other female artists from that label.   Memories are nice, but they also remind you of how quickly things can change in the real world…

reply jazzmanic wrote on Apr 29, ’10 It’s the music that does it for me.  Conjures up memories, good and bad, wanted and not sometimes. Sadly no music is coming at me from your thingy!  🙁

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Apr 29, ’10 My thingy is playing here, Jim! Maybe your thingy is broken? Didja turn on the speaker 😀 This is actually an old post; I am going through everything to see what is working and what isn’t, removing dead imeem players and trying to reconstruct where I can with what’s available. Haven’t thought about this one in ages. I noticed I had it in draft and never released it. What’s old is now new.

reply jazzmanic wrote on Apr 29, ’10 Ah the old ‘due to licensing things some tracks are not wotsiting in your landies’ ploy!

reply jazzmanic wrote on Apr 29, ’10 And you do know I ‘do’ technology for a living I trust?

reply jazzmanic wrote on Apr 29, ’10 lol