A Day in the Sun

Sometimes hindsight is twenty-twenty. I remember thinking as much when recalling a double-date I had years ago with friend Clay. Clarice and Ronnie, high school sweethearts and fellow seniors at North Caddo High School with Clay and I, asked us to join them on an outing. Clarice’s two California cousins were coming to town and she wanted us to help show them around.

I’m drawing this story from my heart because I don’t remember much in the way of facts. What I can remember was my teenaged emotions at the time. I’ll call the names of the two girls Pam and Jenny because I simply cannot remember.

Pam was sixteen, Jenny fourteen. Pam was not ugly but Jenny was much prettier. “Jenny is my date,” Clay said. We spent the day on the banks of Lake O’ the Pines, Jenny in a two-piece bathing suit, Pam in a one-piece.

I’m not a ding-dong. It was apparent from the get-go that Pam was the intelligent sister. I’m not saying Jenny wasn’t intelligent; she just didn’t have to worry about her brains at the time. I remember thinking when I talked with Pam, “You are so witty and knowledgeable, but I wish you had your sister’s body.”

Nothing really happened that day. People met, we socialized and then parted. I still keep in touch with Clarice and Clay, but haven’t seen Ronnie in years. I haven’t seen Pam and Jenny since that day many years ago.

In my wild author’s mind, I can concoct a story concerning Pam and Jenny. Pam is the gorgeous one now; probably the person that excelled in everything - has a PhD, law degree, or Academy Award nomination. I wish I could have realized as much back then. Jenny has ten kids and thirty grandkids, fifty pound overweight and has probably never looked back.

Me, I just grin when I think about the grand scheme of things. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but it almost never makes up for living in the present. Am I doing it now? Hey, maybe it still depends on the bathing suit you wear.

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