The First Kiss

After our family got back from Germany, I started school. I attended the first and second grade at the old Bonneville Elementary. After my second grade year it was torn down and I switched to the Washington Elementary. I really liked the Bonneville elementary, especially the second grade. My second grade class consisted of three rows of second graders and two rows of third graders, which made those of us in the second grade feel really important, since we told everyone that we were in Mrs. R's (she had a funny German name that I can't remember and I couldn't pronounce even back then), third grade class. Dad said he didn't like me going to the school since he was afraid it would fall down, but I never noticed anything falling. Everyone said that it had been built right after the war, but they couldn't remember whether it was the Civil or the Spanish American. At any rate, because it was torn down, I had to go to Washington Elementary, which was, admittedly much newer. I was in Mrs. Rowe's third grade class and it was there that I learned one of life's hardest lessons, because I fell madly, hopelessly in love.

The girl's name was Virginia, and she was beautiful. I knew almost from the moment I met her that we were destined to be married to each other, but I was also wise enough to realize that I would have to wait a few years. I even asked my dad how old you had to be to get married which resulted in his launching into a tirade about Idaho's crazy marriage laws which allowed people as young as 14 to get married. This meant, of course, that I would have to wait six full years before Virginia and I could get married--maybe even longer, because Dad was careful to point out that marriage at 14 required parental approval, something that I suspected my dad would not readily give, although, I was more hopeful of Mom--she seemed to approve of almost everything I did. At any rate, I began courting Virginia. I walked home with her, played with her at recess, and sat by her at noon as often as seemed practical without making it too obvious that I was after her. After all, ours was going to be, of necessity, an extended courtship, and there was no reason to rush. But it was tough. When a fellow has found the girl he wants to marry it becomes irksome to go through all the formalities society expects before they can be properly united.

I said I walked home with her, but only on those days when we weren't having a ball game, a marbles championship, a yo-yo contest or similar doings that absolutely required my presence. During the fall, therefore, my chances to spend a lot of time with Virginia were acturally pretty limited, so limited, in fact, that she might have passed out of my heart altogether had I not been forced to sit near her during school, thus having my passion constantly rekindled. Toward the end of November, however, the weather became of a nature as to make marbles, baseball, and even yo-yoing impractical--or at least, uncomfortable. I, therefore, began excorting her home regularly and equally regularly ate my lunch with her. I was greatly rejoiced to notice that I received much encouragement from her. The only real fly in the ointment was Virginia's girl friend, Carey, for whom she seemed to have a much greater affection then myself. They were inseparable. Unfortunately, Carey reacted with equal grace and enthusiasm to all my advances, and I began to fear that she thought many of my efforts were directed toward her.

As we moved into December my conviction that Virginia was the one and only girl for me became stronger. She was perfect in every way (except spelling, in which she was very poor indeed). I became more and more eager to find ways to disply my true feeling. Sonehow the usual ways of showing affection (putting snow down her back, throwing snowballs, pulling her hair, etc) did not seem adequate to express the growing passion I felt for her.

One day as Christmas was approaching, we were all sitting in the classroom being as noisy as possible because the teacher had been called out of the room.

"Hey," the kid a behind me whispered loudly, "I'll sell you a sprig of mistletoe for a nickel." He held out a branch with some prickly green leaves on it.

"Why would I want to buy an old branch or whatever you called it?" I asked.

"Man, haven't you heard of mistletoe before?'

"No." I admitted sheepishly. "What's so special about this mistletoe stuff?'

"Are you sure you never heard of mistletoe before? I thought everyone had heard of mistletoe. You just hold it over a girl's head and then you kiss them." He went on to explain.

"I never heard of that before," I said quite truthfully, then added skeptically, "Are you sure that its all right to kiss a girl if you hold this stuff over her head? I mean, what if she didn't want you to?"

"Why man," he laughed assuredly, "what can she say? It's an old custom and if you hold real mistletoe over their heads, they have to let you kiss'em whether they want you to or not."

"You sure about that?"

"Of course, ask anybody. You're the first kid I ever knew who don't know about mistletoe."

I have always heard, and since this time, I believe it to be true, that if you hear something that is too good to be true, count to ten, or even one hundred, before you act on it, because it probably is--too good to be true, that is. But I hadn't heard that yet, so I gave the kid a nickel, he gave me his mistletoe and I made a bee-line for Virginia.

Some instinct must have told her that something was amiss because when she saw me coming she jumped from her seat and began running. I chased her around the room once and finally caught her at the front of the room. I grabbed her and held the mistletoe over her head. I expected immediate submission and was extremely surprised when she continued to struggle to get away. Since I was in front of the entire class and my honor was at stake, I lightly kissed her on the cheek and then let her go, beaming proudly at my accomplishment. My self-satisfied grin came to a sudden, and very painful, end when, in a fit of rage, Virginia slapped me across the face twice. She was obviously furious--as furious as I was surprised and stunned. It finally dawned on me that maybe she didn't know about mistletoe either. Both of us went to our seats, almost in tears. "Merrill Gee, I never want to see you again as long as I live," she muttered loudly as we went.

The incident made me a hero to my peers. It turns out that most of them had heard about mistletoe but none of them had ever dared use it. In fact, any that had seen it used had seen it done by their aunts on them. The glory was hard-won. The incident put an end to my infatuation with Virginia. In nursing my broken heart I took to yo-yoing, despite the cold. I even asked some friends if they wanted to play marbles. "Are you nuts," they responded, "can't you see the snow? We'd lose most of our marbles." That taught me one of life's great lessons--having your heart broken is a great tragedy, but its not nearly so bad as losing you marbles.