At The Hop

Back in the 1960s, as is today, high schools have their sports teams, cheer leaders, and other various social events to keep the teens busy, especially during the week. After school, we'd have band, glee club, drama club, etc.

Being out of school for a long time now, I can’t speak of what happens in school today, but when I was in high school, several of the boys’ schools would host dances after one of their home basketball games. It was a way to increase interest in the sport and have the boys and girls in the neighborhood blow off some steam.

Not being particularly interested in basketball, I opted to skip the game and arrive in time for the dance. I loved dancing. In fact, I still do.

Getting to the gymnasium was easy. My friend, Lorraine and I took the local bus. We walked the two blocks from my apartment, waited a few minutes until the bus came, and fifteen minutes later, we were at Bishop Loughlin Boys High School. Admission was always free, but we needed to follow the strict dress code. Boys had to wear black or navy-blue slacks with button down shirts. Girls had to wear dresses or skirts. The girls were also encouraged not to wear shoes with heels higher than two inches. The school was afraid of injuries. Ironically, no one complained, and everyone complied with the rules.

The dances were never a “free for all” kind of gathering. There were always a few adults in the hall to ensure that the teens were safe and behaving themselves. Also, the teachers and adult volunteers took turns playing the records the teens brought with them. That was another thing the boys were encouraged to do. Print your name on your record and bring it to the dance. The school wasn’t about to purchase records.

While it’s true that many of the boys didn’t dance, it wasn’t unusual for them to hold a girl and just “sway” to the rhythm. Let’s face it, there are some boys who just don’t like dancing while other completely enjoy it. You can rest assured, none of the girls had a problem just swaying to the music, and as long as they were being gently held while being on the dance floor, they were happy.

Some girls were there only because of their friends. What I’m saying is that some girls didn’t like to dance but were convinced by their friends to attend just to get out and have some fun. Either way, the gym was always packed with teenagers, and I never once heard anyone complain about being bored.

My friend, Lorraine and I, were in our second year of high school, and she was dating a boy who would graduate from that school the following year. I was happy not having a steady boyfriend and felt free to dance with anyone who asked me. I also felt free to ask any boy that caught my eye if he’d like to dance. I was cautious enough to always look for the boys who had no steady girlfriends. Those couples made themselves obvious.

As my eyes wandered around the room, I heard,” Hi, would you like to dance?”

OMG! He was gorgeous. Straight black hair was meticulously combed into the latest style. His ice blue eyes were set in a face that looked like he belonged in a movie. He was about six inches taller than I was, and I don’t think he had one ounce of fat on his beautiful body which was covered in a navy-blue suit.

He held his hand out to me and in stunned silence, I accepted it. I was in awe. This handsome young man asked me to dance. Out of all the more attractive girls, he asked me!

Okay, let’s be clear about something. I am not ugly in any way, but neither am I drop-dead beautiful. I always considered myself average, maybe even somewhat cute. However, I always knew there were girls that were much more attractive than I was. That’s why when he asked me to dance, I was stunned.

We walked to the dance floor; he put his right arm around my waist and held my hand with his left hand. I had my left hand gently around his neck. I looked into his eyes and felt I could get lost forever.

I asked his name. “Richie,” he replied. “Do you live near the school?” he asked.

“No, I live in the Greenpoint section; just about half hour away.”

“What’s your name?”

“Donnie,” I replied.

“Donnie?” he asked with a curiously look on his face.

“Uh, yeah, Donnie.”

“Please don’t tell me you live on Monitor Street.”

Alarm bells rang in my head. What a crazy statement to make. How did he know me? I was sure I’d ever seen him before. Could he have known my brother? My brother didn’t attend Loughlin but that didn’t mean that much. Boys being boys, seemed to know each other no matter where they lived or what school they attended.

Cautiously, I answered, “Yes. I do, why?”

Then he told me his last name.

Oh crap! I knew that name.

I stiffened and asked, “Do you live on Russell Street and are you any relation to Jane and Richie?”

“Yes, they’re my cousins,” he replied.

I rested my head on his shoulder and started to laugh. He laughed with me.

I asked, “So, why is it then, I never met you until tonight?”

He smiled his beautiful smile and said, “We do come from an exceptionally large family! And all too often, we don’t get together as often as we’d like. And then again, even when the family does, it’s rarely us kids but always the adults.”

I answered, “Yes, cousin, you’re right about that.”

We finished the dance, and yes, we danced a few more but the spark was gone. He would bring his friends over and say, “Hey guys, this is Donnie, my cousin!”

As it turned out, his parents were my dad’s cousins.

We sat together, getting to know each other further, talking about our large and slightly distant families, and completely enjoyed the night. We stayed friends throughout the years, but I will never forget the night my newest “crush” turned out to be my newest “cousin.”

It sure is a ridiculously small world.

Oh, and yeah, Rich and I are still in touch even after all these years.