Saturday, November 15, 2008

What a boob.

I have many fond childhood memories. Church choir, camping, sleepovers, talent shows, you name it. I can't remember all of the piano recitals and soccer tournaments that I participated in. I even had fun learning to drive. My girlfriends and I spent so many hour practicing our make-up that we could have become professionals. (Professional stylists, that is.) Yes, I have many childhood memories. This is not one of them.

John Dekking was, by far, the cutests of my brother's friends. Now, if you knew my brother in high school, you might be thinking that this isn't saying too much. They were way too interested in Dungeons and Dragons, Star Trek and Planet of the Apes to attract many girls. And they all could have used a ham sandwich and a round of tetracyclene. But John Dekking was truly dreamy. He still had relatives in Holland which only added to the blonde Viking mystery that surrounded him. John could speak Dutch and this was really something since all of the other guys claimed their second language was either Pig Latin or Klingon. Although I do think that one of them could speak that Flubby Dubby language from the Electric Company.

Anyway, John was dreamy. (did I say that already?) He wasn't around much in the summer, seeing as how he had to jet over to Amsterdam to visit his relatives and all. But one Saturday, he came water skiing with us. I must have been about 12 years old; not fully developed, but definitely on my way. That would have made my brother, Brad, and John about 15.

We would go out to Lake Texoma for a day of skiing and it was truly one of my favorite things. Mom made sandwiches and we had orange and grape soda and Fritos. When we were ready for the serious skiing, dad would drop all of us off on one of the small islands in the lake. We would unpack our things and set up a picnic on the beach. Dad would take a couple of us out for a round of skiing, and then come back and switch with the others until we were exhausted. While the others were out skiing, we ate our lunch, swam and sunbathed. Good Times.

This was one of those good times. Brad and John went skiing and then dad took out my mom and me. Mom took a turn driving so that dad could ski and I helped with the rope. We probably switched a couple of times until it was time to start packing up and head for home. At the end of the day, my dad and I left my mom and the boys on the beach. I would have the last turn that afternoon.

I remember the bathing suit that I had on: a green and white one piece that went straight across the top. It had those strings in the middle that gathered the material at the bust and then tied in a bow behind the neck. We wore life vests, but once we were a little older, we all wore the belt kind, a thick strick of foam that fit around the waist. I don't know if John could see me skiing or not. I imagined that he could. I couldn't slalom, but I was pretty good on two skis and could handle even some of the choppiest water.

Dad swung the boat around towards our beach set up. I knew that this was my queue to let go of the rope and drift towards the shore. I must have slid the skis towards the boat and started for the beach to help pick up our supplies. I was walking out of the water as John was walking out to help my dad start to pack up. We exchanged a smile. I was tired, but it was that good kind of tire, like a job well done. We passed each other, and I continued to walk to shore to help mom with the picnic. But when she turned around, she had a horrified look on her face.

My left boob had flopped out on top of my suit. It must have happened when I rode over the wake towards the beach and let go of the rope. My mom and I quickly pulled up my suit and checked the right one for exposure. I was mortified. "Maybe he didn't notice." was all she could say. yeah, right.

John went on to junior year and probably fell in with a more social group of friends. His days of playing Risk with the boys were numbered anyway. At any rate, he didn't come around as much in the next couple of years. Which was just as good, seeing as how I couldn't look him in the eye anyway.

1 comment:

Colette said...

You must have lived in Plano. It was 1977.I was a new student riding the mass migration of Northerners into the sunbelt.
John was my first real crush. He was charming,funny and sincere.
It still think of him to this day.
If you ever find him,please tell him Colette sends her regards.
I am glad I wasn't the only one who still carries a torch.