Kodachrome (Prompt # 8)

by Steve Gallup

Nothing brings back the romantic memories of high school more than the beginning of Autumn, when the stifling haze, heat, and humidity of summer is finally replaced by delightfully temperate days and nippy starlit nights.

I was young, and naturally, I was hopeful of having a romantic experience, as I settled into my new environs at school in the Fall of 1980.  We, the students at NCSSM, were no longer making trips to libraries and auditoriums; taking tours and listening to talking heads.  We had settled into an academic routine.  Outside of class, we were making new friends.  And we were hoping (maybe) we could become more than friends.  

There were lots of opportunities to deepen our friendships.  We went dancing in the basement of Wyche House, lights turned low and stereo-speakers humming.  I remember the anticipation of those social activities. We dressed up and scurried in clusters through the horrifying haunted house, staged and enacted in the old morgue.  It was delightful.  We went trick-or-treating in opposite-sex dorms; a rarely authorized peek into the rooms of our classmates.

But sex and mating were strictly forbidden.  Life was a Victorian melodrama.  No boy could step foot into a girl's boudoir.  No girl could cross the threshold of a boy's bedchamber.  Intervisitation was confined to recreation rooms and common areas, unless there was an adult chaperone.

So, the rec rooms and the porches became the settings for affection.  There was cuddling and spooning; hugging and horse-play. I remember that the size of the sturdy pine, This End Up couches provided sufficient room to lie back in a friend's lap.  Or you could give a back rub, and receive one in return.  Magical!  On one occasion a classmate earnestly held my hand, inspecting my palm, and gave me a mystical reading of my nature and fate -- a moment of close contact.

The author with a classmate in a big comfy couch in the common area.

Somewhere, somehow, these sensory experiences got a little too intimate -- crossing the line of propriety.  Maybe the participants were publicly kissing, or they were a little too close for comfort.  I'll never forget the day that word filtered down that the residential advisors (RAs) would be restricting our "public displays of affection" (PDA).  

What a cruel rebuff of our adolescent desires -- our burning libidos!  Neither private nor public displays of affection were permitted, leaving us in limbo -- leaving us in the sensory "friend zone" in perpetuity.  

It was doomed to fail. Nothing could keep us apart.

When we couldn't stop ourselves, we would engage in subversively promiscuous behavior in the hidden nooks and crannies of the campus, or out-of-doors on the outskirts of the sprawling grounds; risking admonishment or discipline if we were caught in flagrante delicto.

Naturally couples formed -- an unstoppable, unrestrainable consequence of mutual attraction.  But no coupling came to pass -- a minor miracle (if true).  We adjusted to the confines of our society. We limited our public displays and suppressed our natural desires, as much as we were able.

As Autumn went by, we occupied ourselves with other things, besides our infatuations.  We continued our studies. We did our homework.  I remember the recklessness with which we played frisbee on the sloping, unkempt lawn between the dorms, risking injury if we flew too close to the concrete steps.  

We boldly voted to choose our school colors (blue and silver) and our mascot (the fantastical, enchanting Unicorn).  We secured the solidarity and spirit of our student body with a homecoming flag-football game, played in the November shade of the stately oak trees of Duke's East Campus.  

We sang our hopes and fears in a talent show.  We were so full of life.  We were fearless.

The sky turned from a hazy light blue to a deep cerulean blue as the outside temperatures fell.  The leaves of the poplars, crepe myrtles, sweet gum, and tupelo turned yellow and ochre and red and scarlet, and fell to the ground.

 We went home to spend Thanksgiving with our families.  We were thankful for all that life had to offer.  And we couldn't get back to school quickly enough, even with its limits and its demands.

So every year, when those picturesque leaves turn and fall, they remind me of the vibrance of color and feeling that the world held in 1980, when romance was in the air.