Saturday Night-Date Night

At my school, in 1963, Saturday night was special; it was date night. Boys and girls would pair up, buzz The Cup on Pendleton Pike and The Tee Pee on Fall Creek and then head back to the Pike for a 9:00 movie at the drive-in. Then for the next two hours they would drink pop, eat hotdogs and make out in the backseat of the boy's father's car. I fantasized about that Saturday night in the future when a boy would pick me, the heretofore rejected, for a night of pop, hotdogs and time spent in the backseat of his father's car. But would that time ever come? It was the summer before my senior year and I was still invisible to the opposite sex.

It was Saturday afternoon, August 24, 1963. I was taking a nap with my three-year-old sister, Lynnette, on the couch in the living room when I heard a knock at the door. Mother and Dad had gone to the store. Were they expecting someone and they didn't tell me? Pulling the curtain back just enough so as to not be obvious to the knocker, I saw a man with a white envelope in his hand standing on the porch. I didn't recognize him but he was holding something--something for my parents probably. With hair a mess and clothes rumpled from sleeping, I opened the door.

The stranger looked at my little sister first and then me. A big smile spread across his face. "Are you Carol Louise?" he said.  How did this stranger know my name? Had I met him somewhere before? Was he from the church? My school? "Yes, I am," I answered. "Good. I'm your father," he said. Then he handed me the white envelope. "You are now eighteen and this is your last support check," With that, he turned around, walked down the sidewalk, got in his car and drove away.

...and that's all I have to say about how I spent my Saturday night on my eighteen birthday.