nice evenings

"My mama told me
You better shop around, aah-ah
You better shop around

Try to get yourself a bargain, girl
Don't be sold on the very first one
Good-looking guys come a dime a dozen
Try to find you one who's gonna give you true lovin'..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Summer when I worked as a Summer Girl in The Suburbs, one of the things I had thought about, or wondered about, was if I might meet any nice boys...like -- a Boy Who Likes Me...

I didn't meet
ANYBODY,
working there.

Well that's not true -- I met -- people.  Some.  Who were three years old.  And 31 years old.  And 50.  And -- later on in the summer, 63 and 64. ...
Although one day, out in the swimming pool, it was the mom and two little girls and me, and two guys who were related to the children's dad, who were in their early 20s.  A little older than me, but not so Much older.  And a couple of other women were there, too -- friend and relative of the children's mother...after swimming, back in the house, I went to the laundry room to hang up some wet suits, and one of the young men was in there, and he started talking to me.

He was asking questions about the town where I was from.  He had heard I was from a really really small town (but more interesting than this suburb, I can tell ya that -- but I didn't tell him that) and he starts asking me questions angled toward the idea that if the town is that small, then there's nothing to do, and so what do people -- do -- do they go -- out -- parking?  Do you -- go out -- ...

ALL RIGHT -- All right -- I AM just about as naïve as I look,
but even I know the difference between

a Boy Who Likes Me
and
a Guy Who's Out To See What He Can Get...

OK just -- let me make sure I understand this, your idea of how to be charming is to conduct a

Sex Interview --

a Sexual Experience Interview --

in a Laundry Room -- ???!!?!

of course I didn't say any of this, just created vague, cloudy non-answers to his questions.  The children's mother came in, saw him looking at me, and tartly "shoo"-ed him away ...

= = = = = = = = = = = Some of the summer's fun times were when the couple I worked for socialized with their friends.  Once they had another couple and their little kids (and Summer Girl) over to "our" house for dinner, and once or twice we all went to the home of one of their friends.  It was all --

parents - children - summer girls

Those seemed like happy times -- people smiling, laughing, talking -- a sort of upbeat, "fizzy" atmosphere....When the couples said good-night when guests were leaving, the husbands would hug and kiss-on-the-cheek the wives in the other couples.

People where I lived didn't do that.
I wondered if it was a Suburban Thing, or a Jewish Thing...custom.

----------------- All summer long up until August, the mother had talked of her relatives coming to visit, from Chicago -- an uncle-and-aunt, her parents, and her best friend, her cousin Ilene.  They all came in, toward the end of the summer, a few at a time, and the atmosphere in the house seemed to lighten and become happier.  There were social times in the day-time, social times in some of the evenings, going-here, going-there; sometimes I went along, other times I wasn't included in the trip and I was glad to have some free time / space, at the house.

When Mrs. K., the children's grandma -- the mom's mom -- came in from Chicago, she spent time at the house.  One morning the children's mother was in her fast-focused-intent-and-intense Mode, per the usual, and her mother starts bossing her around..."You're eating too fast, now just slow down, there's no need for--"  And then when the mom proceeded to take a spoonful of cereal and chew even faster, her mother turned away in exasperation, lamenting,
"Oh! -- Just like a -- machine!"

===================== That was a whole shift in viewpoint....

One day, later in the summer, the mother told me I was invited to a dinner and an Evening Off with a group of Summer Girls who were working for her various friends around the area.  I was a little bit -- sort of, What?  Because I didn't know any of those girls.  Maybe I had met one, at one of the social evenings.  Anyway, this Evening for the summer girls had been planned for us, by these parents we worked for.

I was surprised, and maybe inside not enthusiastic because -- I don't really know what it is, or what it's going to be...but -- then how bad could it be, and I said Well -- okay...
(what.  ever.)
Either the parents I worked for drove me there, or someone picked me up, can't remember, and a ride back "home" at the end of the evening had been arranged.  Everything was planned & arranged.

And I have to say after a jillion years of not thinking of this at all, when I remember, now, I know that was a really fun, nice evening.  One of the families had gone out for the evening and taken their children -- vacated their house! -- so we summer girls had the place all to ourselves.  We made a spaghetti dinner, complete with garlic bread and whatever else....(One of those mothers, along with her summer girl, had done some planning -- not to mention bought some groceries -- to make sure we had a project to do, a dinner to enjoy, and hopefully a good time. ...)

I imagine, now, that the idea came up because one of the parents, or one of the couples had started saying,
"Listen, these summer girls work hard for us, but they're kids, remember, and let's face it they never have any fun.  No one their own age..."etc.  "These young ladies are languishing -- there's nothing for them to do, here, that's fun for them."

[[ You got THAT right! ]]

The woman I worked for might have spoken up:  "I dropped my summer girl off at a mall during her first day off."

Answer:  "A mall?!  What could she possibly buy?  You know what we're paying these people!!"

=================== The summer-girl Evening was a kind, sweet gesture, and a great success.

-------------------

One evening at the house, all these relatives were over -- it was the most people we'd had in the house all summer.  A circle of ladies was gathered in the family room and the three-year-old and I came in so she could say good-night to all of these admiring, adoring aunts, cousins, grandma...In their enthusiasm a sort of competition began, calling the little girl's name and saying, "Come and kiss me good-night!" 
"Oh don't you want to come to me?"
"No, she wants to hug me!"

(Oh come on, don't press so much, or she's not going to go to anybody, I was thinking) -- and then of course the only thing worse, the kid looks around the circle of relatives and runs straight to me.

(Aughh!)
==================
==================
I had a bus ticket to ride back to the town near mine, where my parents were to pick me up, near the end of August.  Only a couple of days before my departure date, the children's mother's father, Mr. K. had arrived.  And when it was time for me to leave, he drove me to the bus station. 
I was surprised at his offer to do this -- he didn't know me, I had only just met him.  But he wanted to help out, and maybe he wanted to drive.

Out of the residential area, on the highway, he said Let me show you Cruise Control. 

I had no knowledge of cruise control.

He showed me how it worked.  He was into it.

He was one of those affable people -- just easy, relaxed talk, back-and-forth, not too much talk, just regular.  A Chicago businessman of some kind.  (I must have known, then, what business he was in, but can't remember now...)

When we arrived at the bus station, I expected that he would -- "drop me off."
Stop the car and wait while I got my bags, and then he would drive back to the suburbs, while I carried my things into the bus station and waited.

Instead of that, this man I had only met two days before, and was never going to see again in Life, parked, carried my bags for me, and when we got in there --
(I thought now he will set the bags down and leave, and I'll wait -- I've got a book)
but no -- it was Another "instead"...Instead of that, he sat down and waited with me, talking about stuff -- cities, and buses, and travel, and Nothing -- and he waited until the bus came, and my bags were on, and I was on.

He was from that World War II-era generation, and I guess it just was not his style to drop a young lady off at the bus station and then drive away. ...

When the bus came and the bags were taken care of, before I got on, he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.  ("OK," I thought, "it's just like at those picnic-parties -- this is what the city people do....")  I was really surprised by that.  He was a nice man.

-30-