FAST TIMES AT LOREAUVILLE HIGH

Eating a baloney [bologna], garden sliced tomato, with Blue Plate mayo on a white bread sandwich yesterday,  I had a flashback about my childhood friend Mary Beth. She lived down Main Street from me, and we played together after school. Her dad, Mr. Sandy, the AG teacher at LHS, served us bologna sandwiches when I visited. Mary had three brothers and one sister, and I had five sisters and one brother. Their house seemed quieter and more organized, as my home kept filling up with noisy babies and lots of hired help.

Her collie, Shep, chased us around the yard when we played Save the Country in her front yard. Mary and I pretended to be movie stars as we danced to made-up musicals on her front porch. Mary had gorgeous, thick naturally curly hair which she hated, and I had straight black hair chopped into a Buster Brown haircut, which I hated. I ironed her hair, and she set my hair in pincurls. Her grandfather owned Twin Pines Plantation, and we rode horses, played in the barn, or explored the property.  We both read tons of books in the summer; visiting the public library was a habit especially when the annual reading contest took place. We read and recorded titles of every book we read so we could get a prized  reading certificate.

Mrs. Sandy had gorgeous skin and beautiful lips. I marveled at the luscious lipstick colors she wore. One new tube of Revlon, and she looked Hollywood glamorous. Mr. Sandy played board games with his children, and he hitched up his pants as he walked. They took me along on Sunday afternoons to visit new Iberia relatives who delighted Mary and me with Brown Cows [ice cream-root beer floats].

Our adolescent escapades come right out of FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH. Our close friends  and partners in crime included Boobie, Det, Perry Lee, Janie, Linda, Tisha, and Sylvia, Mary's cousin. Someone in our group surreptitiously hid cigarettes in the girls' locker room at school. During breaks from basketball practice we even pretended to smoke before we were busted by a custodian. Janie had the greatest collection of 45s and albums, so we often congregated at her house in Marsh Field, just outside of the town limits. Det and Perry Lee bought a state of the art stereo system with money they made from picking pecans. The first time I heard a Barbra Streisand album, I fell in love with her voice.

Det invited us to slumber parties held in a small house behind her home. No bathroom, so we hid a porcelain potty behind a shower curtain. We cast lots to see who would empty it. I am sworn to secrecy about our other activities, but we did pile into my car to drive to St. Martinville in the middle of the night in our Baby Doll jammies so Tisha could talk to her boyfriend on the pay phone by the courthouse. Even if we scraped all our money together, we could never afford to pay admission to the Drive In in New Iberia. Two girls hid in the trunk of my car, two hid in the bushes and walked in while we entertained the ticket taker, and we all congregated in a good spot to watch the movie and spy on couples behaving badly. Det, who always had a rosary handy, prayed for our safety.

We danced at the teenage center in St. Martinville on Saturday nights. We met boys from St. Martinville and swooned over teen music performed by the Chatagnier twins, Teddy Babin and other local talent. Chaperones and prison guards patrolled the dance floor to discourage hanky panky. We danced as male-female couples as we jitterbugged, bopped, shagged, and slow danced to popular music. Guys invited girls to dance. Our parents took turns driving us to and from the center. Phones buzzed as we chirped about Saturday night events at the Center.

We participated in Catholic Daughter activities, cheered at football games, played in band, twirled batons, marched in parades, sang in church choir, hung out at T-Lee's, and served as officers in school and community organizations. One year I joined the Civil Defense unit in our town so I could help with emergency evacuations. I remember being the youngest person training with Dad's friends, including Mr. Habetz. I was fine until I saw the ugly duckling gaudy yellow plastic jacket and helmet I had to wear if an emergency such as a nuclear attack or a hurricane occurred. I prayed long and hard that would never happen, and it didn't. Then I graduated.

As we matured into adolescence, we danced at Signorelli's, at the Oriental Club in New Iberia, and at Enasce Doucet's on the levee on Sunday afternoons. Although alcohol was served at these establishments, we danced. Our hair was teased and sprayed, our makeup perfect, and our clothing appropriate. We danced to have fun and sometimes had no idea whom we were dancing with, some random teenaged boy who had rhythm. We used all sorts of innocent comely moves to attract a dance partner, then we prayed novenas the next day. Music and dancing were fun and entertaining. Wish I could remember more.