The characters in the following story were young adults who were over the age of 18 in the late 1960s. Most of the events are based on things that actually happened in an era of changing attitudes about sex and morality. Please be gentle with your comments. The "Sean" of this story is based on very personal recollections.
By late afternoon, Sean's cool guy anticipation-imitation turned to a sad song, nerdy-dude disappointment. The idea of a face-to-face visit grew from a barrage of creative and silly letters that had become a daily routine for both Sean and Morgan. Morgan had the means and her own car. Sean was stuck in the deep-South, pine-tree boonies with a bicycle and infrequent access to the family station wagon.
The two moms had spoken by phone as required by the unspoken rules of the day. The visit for two recent high school graduates had been given the all-clear. After years of 'hovering', Sean had no idea why two conservative Southern moms went along with the idea.
"Don't worry," said Sean's mom. "We'll keep an eye on Morgan. Sean will be a good host. Be sure to have Morgan bring a swimsuit. We might get in some waterskiing at the lake if there is time."
"That sounds perfect," responded Morgan's mom. "She is looking forward to spreading her wings on a highway drive. I'll remind her about waterskiing. She loves the water!"
It was the late 60's and the edges of the propriety envelope were covered in barbed wire.
The Graduate
hadn't been in the theaters for more than a year and for three-day-each-week churchgoers, it was scandalous that young people had been allowed to be exposed to such scandal!
From all outward appearances, Sean was a perfect gentleman, a Boy Scout. Morgan was an academic scholar and a Candy Stripper at the hospital. The 'perfect angel' images were untarnished for both Sean and Morgan. Moms and dads were proud. Both sets of parents had chaperoned the group parties. Both were confident that any sexual energy for the teens was burned off doing the
Peppermint Twist
, the
Pony
, and the
Freddie
. Any slow dancing that happened was just a chance for the kiddos to cool off.
For Sean, the very mention of slow dance made him squirm. There was that time when Shirley Taylor rubbed too close. She had a reputation for knowing the mysteries of sex and Sean was embarrassed when the music stopped. His moves to get something to cover his crotch may have been the inspiration for the
Loco-Motion
. Sean had struggled with a pole to put up a tent...not so much for a
pole
in his pants. There was no 'cooling-off' with Shirley.
The two 'saintly teens' met for the first time at a party in Sean's hometown while Morgan was in town for her cousin's wedding...or the cousin of her best friend's cousin...or something like that. Anyway, she was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace while Sean's friends were slow dancing in an otherwise darkened living room...probably just cooling off, right?
Sean accidentally tripped over Morgan, paying more attention to the welded-together, slow-dancing couples. Really. An innocent stumble. He thought he was stepping over the edge of the hearth, but tripped...awkwardly, embarrassingly. Perhaps the epitome of 1960's
un-cool
.
Something 'clicked' among the apologies to the cute, red-headed visitor.
"I am so sorry. Are you OK? I didn't mean to kick you. Please excuse my clumsiness," groveled Sean. "Who are you anyway? I'm sure we haven't met, I am Sean."
"Apology accepted," said Morgan. "Would you give me a hand getting up, I think you at least owe me a dance. I love this song!"
Sean reached down for Morgan's extended hand and said, "It would be my pleasure. You have met my clumsy wingtips. If you'll dance on the tops, I'll take care of the bottoms."
Getting to her feet and looking straight into Sean's eyes, Morgan snickered, "Nice to meet you, Sean. I'm Morgan. I'm not too comfortable with that top and bottom dancing thing...but I'll hold onto that thought!"
The gauntlet has been thrown...the torch had been lit for the
flirtatious Olympics
and Sean and Morgan were gold medal contenders!
Maybe more about the letter-writing might help here. The two had been active high school seniors, heavily involved in every imaginable academic and extra-curricular activity. Both were shy when it came to dating or even conversing with the opposite sex. It may have been a conspiracy by their parents. Keep hormonal teens engaged in so many distracting activities that there was less risk of one male and one female ever exploring the biological implications of "Tab A" entering "Slot B". All to say, there was much to share about sheltered lives in the South where the unspoken taboos were the taboos that were whispered most frequently between girls on the phone late at night and guys in a locker room just about any time.
There was a mutual level of understanding that Sean and Morgan acquired from reading that made up for their lack of actual experience. Curiosity had both of them slipping into the Adults Only section of the library and speed-reading chapters of Human Sexual Respons and Human Sexual Inadequacy. The recently published Masters and Johnson research was based on real-life observation of thousands of coital acts. The book was off-limits to teens once churches found out the
juicy parts
would tarnish the buckle of the Bible belt.
It was far easier to think through what one wanted to write rather than verbalizing it in front of a member of the opposite sex....and crazy things like writing a complete letter on an inflated balloon, deflating it to fit in an envelope, and putting a testy pinprick in the balloon before sealing things up were somehow normal fun. These sorts of writing challenges became the foreplay of getting to know one another at a deeper level than any parent could anticipate. Many of the taboos that would be whispered between friends of the same sex made it into the carefully crafted
juicy parts
that found their way onto paper between Sean and Morgan.
Both moms had described the activity as "cute little letter-writing friends." Sean's mom had gone as far to say, "they make such sweet pen pals!" All the while, the anticipation of a letter in the mailbox was a semi-orgasmic highlight for the teens during the several weeks that followed.
The visit to Sean's home was to be the first reunion since the fireplace debacle. From Sean's view out the picture window of his 1950's ranch-style home, that empty driveway did not mean good news. By late afternoon, he figured there had been a change of heart and he'd be back to letter writing by sundown. The very idea of a girl driving an hour and a half by herself to see a boy she had only met once was crazy and probably a violation of several hundred unspoken dating taboos of the South. On the other hand, at 18 in the pre-liberated woman's dark ages, the season was open for seeking out prospective husbands.
The "Look Mom! I made it myself", Chef-Boy-R-D pizza was coming out of the oven when the wall phone rang. Sean's mom was closest and answered. It was nearly a full minute before she spoke and by the look on her face, Sean could tell something was wrong. Sean did not hear everything she said, but he did remember how his mom motioned him toward the receiver.
She covered the bottom end of the phone with her hand and whispered, "Morgan had an accident, but she will be OK. She wants to say
hello.
" I took the phone and listened while Morgan described rolling her Mustang, having her favorite blouse torn, getting scratched up by the seatbelt, and how she rode in the back of a police car to her dad's office to let him see that she was only nicked-up...and, that she would need a new car right away.
"Maybe I'll show you my bruises. I look like I have a grade school crossing guard's shoulder harness imprinted across my boobs...or maybe not", she laughed, embarrassing herself at what she had said.
Although disappointed that the day did not turn out as expected, Sean graciously expressed concern over Morgan's injuries and the loss of her car. "The car can be replaced, Morgan. I'm thankful that you were not seriously injured," said Sean.
By now, Sean's dad had looked at his watch 3 or 4 times. Long-distance calls were charged by the minute and anything over a 3-minute call meant an expense to someone...even someone else he'd never met.
I'll talk to mom and dad about maybe coming to see you. Maybe we can all go to the zoo or something," Sean said, invoking a sweet smile from his mom.