Young Love: Stuck in Neutral

THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY MEMOIR “RAISED ON THE RADIO” WHICH I LOOK TO RELEASE LATER THIS YEAR

WORKING ON THE NIGHT MOVES

You might be wondering about girls. I sure did, getting my first kiss in 5th grade from a classmate named Gloria. Moving on from there, girls were the best part of Friday night Junior High School dance class which was a way to be introduced to the social graces of male/female encounters. Years later, our dance instructor Mr. Morgan got busted for having inappropriate relations with some of his female students. These were thirteen and fourteen year olds and this guy was in his 60’s. Ugh.

The fall of 1975 thru the spring of 1979 might’ve been a sweet spot in the sexual revolution but for most of us guys at York the farthest we would go was a few stolen kisses in a paneled rec room at someone’s house with a young lass after a few cans of beer. We weren’t afraid of girls, just a little slow to get out of the gate. It’s no wonder movies like “American Pie” and “Superbad” resonated so well with me. We were curious and lustful, just stuck in neutral. Bob Seger best described what us wannabe studs and the fairer sex were up to, “Working on mysteries without any clues.” The good news is things got better as time went on.

The first time I would “know” a woman was three years out of high school. It was cliché, on a Spring Break trip to Daytona Beach I met a bartender named Candace who was twelve years my senior. That’s probably why I’ve often been attracted to older women. The influence of films like “Summer of ‘42” and “The Graduate” might factor into that fixation as well, so here’s to you Mrs. Robinson.

While in high school, some of us would get together for all night poker games at my friend Freddie’s house. After the card playing, we moved past the occasional glimpse at a Playboy centerfold as our carnal interests took a more literary turn. Freddie owned several of the books written by famed former prostitute turned Madame Xaxiera Hollander who went by the nickname ‘The Happy Hooker.’ We’d divvy up the books and lounge around the rec room basement on sleeping bags and couches reading the nutty exploits from the Happy Hooker’s days as a call girl. It was like Oprah’s Book Club but for horn-dog teens.

One morning I got home from one of these sleepovers and Freddie called all frantic. The Happy Hooker books were missing. All of us who stayed over assured him we did not take them. He was in a total quandary about what happened to those soft core porn tomes. Fast forward a month later, Freddie is with his family opening presents at Christmas. Mom, dad, older sisters, brother and their eighty year old grandmother are on hand to watch him open a box from his father. So what’s inside? All the missing Happy Hooker books! His dad says, “Why don’t you show what you have there, son?” Poor Freddie wanted to die on the spot. While we were asleep that fateful night, his father came downstairs, spotted the books and collected them for a holiday surprise. Years later I got to relate that stolen book story to the Happy Hooker herself, Xaviera Hollander during a radio interview.  From reading about the exploits of the famed hooker/madam to telling her this story, you gotta love it when things come full circle!