SPIN THE BOTTLE

A writer reaches back to tell about a sixth grade experience and tempts me to do the same. I begin to dig or boot up my memories.

 Is it history class, when Mrs. Green told us about Santa Anna's surrender at San Jacinto and his masonic handshake that saved his life among the Texas soldiers, a hundred years before? Is it shivering from the cold in an old three story brick school house warmed by a huge furnace, stoked by the round jolly janitor in his striped blue and white coveralls, in the cellar far below? Is it about Girl Scout camp on the banks of a spring fed swimming pool, with water smelling like rotten eggs?

The house parties were "the most cool".  Six girls and six boys met for cokes, hamburgers and listened to 45 rpm records in Judy's clean garage. The bravest of all would dance a two step to "If Your Sweetheart Sends a Letter of Good by".  But the highlight of the evening was when we sat in a circle and took turns spinning a coke bottle. Whomever the bottle pointed closest to after the spin, was the spinner's partner to walk around the block in the moonlight evening. The sooner the couple returned, we knew they didn't "like" one another. This was our preparation for dates later on when we could drive and escape from parental control.