Pheonix

When I was eleven or twelve (both actually) we lived in Arizona for a school year.
Sixth grade, I believe.
It was 1953-54.
A social event was planned by the school, a dance.
I remember looking forward to the thing, my girlfriend would be there.
Other friends would be there.
There was much discussion and anticipation.

The rules were given us; "No Levis".
Jeans, Denim; verboten, if you can't dress decently, don't come.

My mother laid out my costume for the evening;
Levis and a nice shirt, white with a bit of green embroidered decoration.*
"We're not supposed to wear jeans" says I.
"Oh it'll be alright" says mom "you look nice"

So I walked the (approx) mile to school, looked in the window of the gym or hall or whatever room it was the dance was in, watched for awhile then decided on the better part of valor and walked home.

I have yet to determine exactly what crippling psychological affect this incident has had on my psyche.

Could this be why I'm such a turkey?

*OMG, was there a string tie involved?