Soda Shop Memories

Promenading along Ashley Street, wearing Jumbo Rollers covered with pretty floral sheer scarfs, chattering, giggling, being thirteen, trying to pass for sixteen, hoping the boys in their bat-winged cars would wave and holler and make a big deal, as soon as they caught our eyes, we'd pretend to ignore them while our shoulders pulled back, heads held high, and our mohair sweatered chests protruding for all the world to see. If a car stopped our hearts skipped a beat, we'd lose our composure and act very young, running to the neighborhood soda shop where we'd find "protection," someone's older brother who was sipping Coke and eating French fries with his date while the Jukebox tunes were blasting, feet were tapping and where Pinball Machines were ringing, these were our soda shop memories of long ago.