Ten minutes into the house party in
the basement den, the only light left on would be the light at the top
of the stairs. The girls got together a couple of days before the
house party and baked cookies and cakes, then decorated the basement
den.
Everyone looked forward to the party, for the boys we knew it
was going to be "Make out" time. Oh boy.
Sometimes to throw a little more apprehension into what was
going to happen in the den, we had to do a scavenger hunt first. Two
teams were made up of names pulled out of a bowl and then each team
was given a list and one hour to acquire all the stuff.
The List: abacus, skewer, hub cap, pea shooter, witch hazel,
sickle, teapot, squeegee, antlers, wing nut, slide rule, rabbit foot,
skillet, ace of spades, angle iron, Brylcreem, sea shell, candy bar,
text book, star fish, fork, a top hat from a monopoly game, claw
hammer, fish hook, wash board, winkle picker, chrome chair, bird nest,
pine needles.
This was before any of us had cars so we had to go over the
list and find out what items each of us might have at home. We all
took off running home; some ran with their girl friends, we all agreed
to meet in a central location in a half-hour.
When we met at the central location we had to go over the list
and find out what items we did not have, now came the hard part, we
had to go house to house and ask for a item on the list.
If we saw the other team on the same block then we had to move
over a couple of blocks. There were a lot of nice people in the
neighborhood that helped us out and we did our best to return the
items given to us. It was surpassing how close both teams came in
gathering everything on the list and usually the team that won was
only by one or two items.
The music was loud but no one was dancing but once in a while,
someone would add a new pile of records on the record player. Once in
a while you could hear a slap or two, but since it was so dark you
would not have any idea who got slapped. I got tongue, I did not know
what it was called then, but I liked it. Long live the French kiss,
and the memories of the dim den.
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