Light My Fire

Kellogg Junior High School was a 7-9th grade school.

As I was finishing the ninth grade in 1969, I'd never kissed a girl. I'd had a steady girlfriend, Debbie Wakefield, whom I was scared to death of. That ended. I have chronicled my three week "relationship" with Joni White, here.

As ninth graders, we decided we wanted an expensive band to play at the school's last dance, a dance put on as a good-bye gesture by the ninth grade. The band was a Blood, Sweat, and Tears type band called the Rotations. I think they were from Seattle. We held a raffle and raised the money to hire them.

Well.

Kellogg High Schoolers caught wind of our coup and wanted to attend our dance. A senior, Janice Fike, approached me at church youth group one night and asked me if I had a date to the dance with the Rotations. Of course I did not. She asked if we could go together. My throat went dry. I said yes.

She's a high school senior.

"What am I doing?"

Two of Janice's friends also asked freshman boys to go, so we triple dated, in Janice's car.

I had just started a new job at Stein Brother's IGA grocery store and several of the employees were guys in the class of 1969, seniors. Boy, did I have to endure a raft of shit because I was going to this dance with one of their classmates: a lot of significant winking and elbows to the ribs.

Lord. I was a total naif. I'd never kissed a girl let alone done anything that would constitute a wink or a nudge.

I think this dance might have been called the Freshman Ball. I think we might have dressed up a bit for it. (If you went to this dance and are reading this, please comment and help me get the facts straight.)

I do know that Janice drove the six of us to the dance. I know that I sat in the front seat. I know that Janice instructed me to slide over and sit right next to her as she drove. It was, I suppose, an act of sex liberation, of courageous sex role reversal. Every day I saw girlfriends in cars and pickups with their boyfriends and those girls were sitting shoulder to shoulder with their boyfriend drivers. Never had I seen a girl driving with the boy sitting close to her.

But, there I was.

The dance was a blast. The Rotations were fantastic. I can still, these thirty-eight years later, hear them play "Spinning Wheel", "You've Made Me So Very Happy", "Ride My Seesaw," "Lady Madonna", "Born to be Wild", and "Magic Carpet Ride". The Rotations were a cover band. Thank goodness. Their songs were familiar. The dance was exhilirating.

The dance ended and Neil, Jim, Linda, Lynn, Janice, and I piled into Janice's car.

I figured it was time to go home.

I didn't know about parking.

I didn't know about going to a slightly remote place in a car to make out.

It seemed I was the only one in the car that didn't know about parking.

Janice drove to a spot she seemed to know well, up Vergobbi Gulch. She turned off the headlights and the engine, but left the accessories power on so we could listen to the local radio sation, KWAL.

My mouth was dry. I didn't know what was going on. I acted like I did. My knees trembled.

Once parked, Lynn and Jim and Linda and Neil got right to it. I could here them smacking.

I didn't know what to do.

Janice asked me something like, "How are you doing?"

I answered nervously, dully, a little too loud: "Fine."

The Doors were playing on the radio: "Light My Fire". I could feel the irony.

Janice put her hand behind my neck and pulled my mouth toward hers and we were kissing. The first thing I thought about was her braces. I didn't want my lips to get shredded.

I don't think Janice found me that satisfying. We made out for a while, not long. Janice was the first to want to leave.

She said something like, "I think we need to get these boys home."

I probably had a curfew. I doubt Jim and Neil did. I know the girls didn't. Janice was no doubt glad she could get out of parking with me.

Over the years, "Light My Fire" has been a ubiquitous song. Every time I hear it, the memory of that night and of my first experience making out arises.

It's not a bad memory.

But, I don't feel like Casanova.