Legends of the Fall

Sorry, this isn’t about Brad Pitt. Way back in 1967, the “Summer of Love” as it was called then, I had reached a great milestone in my life. I turned 15 and got my braces off my teeth. Life was good, except when my dad insisted that I wear my retainer at all times. Having a crafty mind, I found all sorts of handy places to stow my retainer as soon as I got away from my dad’s keen eyes. My favorite hiding place was inside the battery compartment of my portable radio.

My friends and I made a trip up to the Boy Scout Camp to visit some male friends who were camp counselors for the summer. This was to be the debut of my smile with flawless pearly teeth so I put my retainer in the pocket of my jacket as soon as I left my house. Nine of us girls piled into one car. Being a late bloomer and built like Twiggy, I always got to sit on the top layer whenever we crammed ourselves into Grace's compact car. Our two Boy Scout friends were very happy to see us and introduced us to 3 other young men who were also camp counselors. The guys wanted to take us on a hike up to the bluff overlooking the camp. I was afraid the flirting would get fierce since the girls outnumbered the boys by almost 2 to 1. Before I realized what was happening, one of the young men I had just met steered me away from the rest of the group, saying that he knew a short cut to the peak. We made good progress and indeed, we did reach the peak before the group. Then he said he knew a shortcut down. By then, I trusted him and I let him hold my hand. As we went down the descending trail, he serenaded me with the Beatle’s tune “Strawberry Fields Forever” – such clever boy. The words included, “Let me take you down, cause I’m going to…Strawberry Fields…” Suddenly the trail disappeared and there was a steep hill that was nothing but loose rocks of assorted sizes. He assured me that we’d make it down all right. With the unstable footing, it wasn’t long before my feet went out from under me and I fell right on my butt. Ever the gentleman, my Boy Scout helped me to my feet and held my hand down the rest of the slope. My butt was killing me, but I couldn’t give it a good rubbing when he was holding my hand closest to my injured butt-cheek. Finally, he let go of my hand and I surreptitiously felt my butt to survey the damage. My heart sank when I left a sizable rip in my brand new pink and purple flowered pants. Further exploration revealed that my panties were ripped as well!! How could it get any worse? It did. My fingers felt warm and moist. I looked and saw they had blood on them. Hurriedly I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. I was getting cold, but I couldn’t risk exposing my lily white butt. When we got back to camp, the guys insisted that we stay and listen to ghost stories around the campfire. I didn’t tell anyone about my problem because I didn’t want the Boy Scouts to get their First Aid merit badge by working on my butt. Riding back home, I told my friends what had happened and we all laughed. In my driveway, when I tried to put my retainer back in, I discovered that a piece of it had chipped off when I fell on it. A little sanding and no one was the wiser, except my orthodontist. ;-)