For the Love of Pam

A Journal of Teenage Memories

Forward

     First of all, let me say that I am not a writer, and I do not pretend to be a writer.  My command of the English language and the extent of my writing abilities are too limited for that.  However, I am still going to write this journal entitled For the Love of Pam.  It is a collection of some of the marvelous memories I have of a girl, and the love I felt for her.  I call her a girl, and not a woman, because I never knew her as an adult.  She was either late sixteen or early seventeen the last time I saw her.  That was forty years ago, and my love for her still thrives.  I remember every moment we ever spent together.  Not all at once, because there are far too many scenarios to have active in my mind at the same time. But, at one time or another, I can and do remember all our times spent in each other’s company.  From the first time I met her, to the last moment I ever saw her, each memory is locked in my heart.  And there they will stay, locked, but not forgotten.

     I have been thinking about what format would be best for this endeavor.  At first I decided to write a fantasy story which, at certain scenarios, would lead into a memory that was similar in some way to the story line.  I had completed five chapters in that format, but as more and more of the most prominent memories were revealed, it became more difficult to lead the story towards some of the less dramatic but equally meaningful memories.  I finally decided to change the format to a more journalistic arrangement.  Each section will reveal memories similar in theme.  Themes such as Firsts, Friends, Family and School, to name a few, will be reviewed.  Plus, in a journal type layout, I will not have to be creative in writing a fictional story as well as accurately describing the various wonderful memories I still have of this time in my life.

     First, I will provide a little background information, then on to the first section of For the Love of Pam.  I don’t remember the exact age either Pam or I was when we first met.  I can, however make an educated guess because I know for a fact that I loved her in some form for seven years before I lost her.  And, being that it was in February 1969 when I joined the U. S. Army, shortly after I turned eighteen years old, I must have been about eleven when we met.  Pam, being three years younger than me would have been eight.  Wow, can that be right!?  It was shortly after I joined the Army that our relationship fell apart.  I remember that the last time I saw her was in the late summer of 1971, after I returned from a tour in the Republic of Korea.  After that chance encounter, she was gone forever.

     All the events described in this journal took place between my eleventh and eighteenth year, with most taking place from middle to the near ending of this period of time.

     Everything written about in this journal is presented as the truth to the best of my recollection.  As it has been forty years or more since any of these memories originated, I may make some misjudgments or mistakes in their presentation.  These are unintentional and do not affect the outcome of the scenarios in which they occur.  In addition, I plan to add some lines of levity, to keep the theme light, where appropriate.

     In remembering and writing these exceptionally wonderful excerpts from my years with Pam, a certain sadness inevitably finds its way into my heart.  After all, this is, in the end, a story of love unfulfilled; a sorrowful accounting of a love which went awry.

For the Love of Pam

A Journal of Teenage Memories

Section One

FIRSTS

     This first section of my journal is appropriately named as it will describe the various first time interactions between Pam and me.  Let it be known that, even though not all of the first time events between me and a girl were with Pam, each and every first time event with Pam was also my first time with any girl.

  The First Time We Met:

     From as far back as I can remember I always had a desire to catch various members of the local wildlife community.  Grasshoppers, butterflies, and many other of the more easily captured forms of life were the subjects of my relentless pursuits.  The target of opportunity on this particular chase was a large green grasshopper.  I was near a small bridge on which Brighton Avenue crossed over a small stream that led to Capisic Pond.  Mayor Road was a side street that led off from Brighton Avenue and my house was located on a corner of these two streets.  The stream, the bank of which was where I was closing in on my wary prey, was directly across Mayor Road from my house.  The grasshopper in question was a really big and heavy one, so heavy that its ability to jump and fly was severely impaired.  After I finally forced this insect from the protective cover of deep grass along the stream bank to the shortly cropped grass and sand along Mayor Road, I made my move and attempted to scoop up the hapless hopper with my left hand.  Being right handed, I should have used my right hand to grab the green beastie, but for some unknown reason, the attempt was made using my left.

     Throughout our lives, we make choices, some consciously, some not so much.  Each choice leads us down a path that, had we made a different choice, we might never have taken.  The use of my left hand, instead of my right, led me down a path that would influence me for the rest of my life.  That path led me to a young and very pretty girl, Pamela Marie T*****.

(Note: I have, since I began writing this, decided to put it on line as a testament to my love for Pam.  Therefore, I will not reveal her last name or any other last name.)

      With a quick sweeping motion, I reached for the grasshopper.  It might have been heavy, as grasshoppers go, but it was also fast.  It jumped a millisecond before my hand closed on empty air. Had I used my right hand, I would have undoubtedly caught the insect and the events that followed would not have taken place.  The grasshopper had, in its effort to evade capture, jumped into the path of my oncoming hand and was knocked into the air.  Due to the added momentum caused by the push it received from my hand and it’s now opened wings, the insect should have made a clean escape.  But, instead, it crashed head on into the aforementioned Pam T*****, and clung to her at a location just beneath her left shoulder.

     What to do, what to do?  I was eleven or twelve years old, face to face with this girl I had never seen before.  I guessed that she was eight or nine.  I had jumped up in front of her and now blocked her way.  I looked at the grasshopper sitting motionless on her chest.  I looked at her eyes, at first wide with surprise, then narrow, with concern.  I’m sure that she felt the thump from the impact of the insect, but I don’t think she knew what caused it or that it was holding on to her for dear life.  I looked at the grasshopper once again, took an additional look at her eyes, then, in a lightening quick motion with my right hand, I snatched the insect from her chest.

     I quickly apologized for my strange behavior.  She apparently took no offense at my invasion of her personal space.  We talked for a little while.  I can’t remember the direction our conversation took, but I have to assume that we exchanged names and made the appropriate small talk that two newly met kids would make.  I remember showing her the prize I held in my hand.  I remember opening my hand and letting the grasshopper leap into the tall grass from which I had, only moments before, driven it from.  For the first time ever, I felt in my heart the slight flutter of what would later prove to have been love in its infancy.  Looking at Pam felt good.  Hearing her voice felt good.  This new, as of yet unidentified feeling I was experiencing, felt good.  I did not know it at the time, but those few minutes with Pam had already affected my life forever.

  The First Time I Knew It Was Love:

     After that first meeting, Pam and I ran into each other on occasion.  We’d say “Hi” and talk some.  We didn’t really spend any length of time together for maybe a couple of years.  At some point during those couple of years, I had gone to a school square dance with a classmate named Sue Ann L******.  We became good friends and I would sometimes go to her house on Lucas Street, which was the next street up from my house on Brighton Avenue, to visit.  She had an enclosed screen gazebo in her back yard.  I guess it was a gazebo, I don’t know for sure.  We’d go in there and talk or play cards.  One evening, while we were singing Henry the Eighth, I Am, I Am (yeah, I know, go figure), Pam arrived and joined us in the gazebo.  I was thrilled to see her, more thrilled than I really understood.  During the following few weeks, I spent almost every evening at Sue Ann’s house, and, more often than not, Pam would show up there as well.  It was at some point during those few weeks when I first realized that I was falling in love with Pam.  I also realized that this feeling had not just originated out of thin air.  It was something that had its beginnings on that first day we met a few years before.

     But, now, as I saw Pam more and more often, I began to feel a longing to be with her all the time.  When I was not with her, which, unfortunately, was most of the time, I missed her so much it was frightening.  Never had I felt such a strong desire to be with a girl.  It actually hurt to be away from her.  This was new territory for me, and it was terrifying.  I didn’t know what to do, or how to act.

     I did know one thing, however.  I knew that one of my friends named Wayne V***** also began to show up at Sue Ann’s house and was showing some interest in Pam.  Just my luck! I finally realized that I was in love, and already some clown was trying to move in on my girl!  MY girl!  My GIRL! MY GIRL!  No matter how I put it, it sounded wonderful.  At that point in time, she was not actually my girl, but I wanted her to be.  The day would finally come when she would be my girl, but that’s another story.

     I had come to the end of my rope.  I had to do something about Wayne.  He had become a thorn in my side and had to be dealt with.  But, before I made the ultimate decision to either confront him about this situation or relinquish my unannounced claim on Pam, I asked Sue Ann a question.  I asked her, “Who does Pam like more, me or Wayne?”  Sue Ann laughed and said that Pam didn’t like either one of us that way.  I was devastated.  My visions of Mike and Pam engraved in trees, picnic tables and school book covers melted away.  The look of pain and helplessness which must have blossomed on my face prompted Sue Ann to amend her statement, and add, “But, she does like you a little more than she likes Wayne.”  I came back with the obvious response, “How little?” Sue Ann raised her right hand, curled all her fingers except her index finger and thumb.  They were extended and about a half inch apart.  She put her hand in front of my face and said, “Maybe about theeeeessssss much.”

     I puffed up my chest; well of course she did! How could I have ever doubted it?  My decision was made. I was going to have it out with Wayne.  Pam was mine and that was that!  I thought of the various places I could carve Mike and Pam.  Maybe on Wayne’s forehead; love is a brutal thing.

     I have decided to describe what happened next with me and Wayne in the FRIENDS section which will be written soon.  It will fit in better where I discuss some of the things that happened concerning some of my friends and Pam.

     At first I took what Sue Ann said with a grain of salt, but later, even I could tell that there was, indeed, a spark in Pam that was meant for me.  For the first time in my life I knew for sure that I was in love, and it was Pam that I was in love with, but it would take a year or more for Pam to have similar feelings towards me.

  The First Time I Held Pam’s Hand:

     It was some time after I fell in love with Pam and long before she told me she loved me, that I actually held her hand for the first time.  We were playing, believe it or not, Hide and Seek on a street corner located almost exactly between my house and hers.  It was on the corner where Mayor Road and David Road met.  I was “it” and after counting to some distant and long forgotten number, I started to look for a now hidden Pam.  I chose to search the area closer to my house then hers.  Unfortunately for me, but without which the imminent holding of Pam’s hand would not have occurred for who knows how long, Pam chose to hide closer to her own house.  This was discovered when I heard the sound of not so delicate Pam footsteps running on the road behind me.  As I turned I saw her running at full speed towards the centrally located fire hydrant on the corner, which we had designated as “home” or “safe” or whatever the name of the place where you had to physically touch before the person looking for you could touch you.  Not to be outdone, I bolted towards the fire hydrant, which also put me on a course directly at the quickly approaching Pam.  It was soon realized by the two of us that it would be a very close finish to the ongoing race to reach the hydrant.  Just a moment before the place where we would have to decrease our run speed to something less than the speed of light or overshoot the hydrant, Pam’s mother yelled out to Pam from her front door that supper was ready.  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Pam turned her head and yelled “OK” and I looked towards her house to see if her mom was still watching.  What happened next should be obvious.  Having been distracted at the very moment we should have applied the brakes, no such brakes were applied and we collided into each other at full speed ahead.  In a millisecond, we went from a full run to a dead stop.  It was actually the most intimate we had ever been with each other. Both our bodies came together and for an immeasurable period of time, seemed to occupy the same space at the same time.  You know that for each action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  It’s true.  The moment our forward momentum ceased to exist, we were repelled from each other at the same speed that we collided.  Being larger and heavier than her, I was thrown back only a few feet and somehow managed to remain standing.   Pam, on the other hand, was hurled through the air, arms and legs all pointing straight at me.  She seemed to stay airborne forever, but gravity finally won her over and she crashed down in the middle of the street on her backside, sliding a good five feet before coming to a stop and laying over on her back.  ‘Oh my God, I’ve killed her!’ I thought to myself as I ran to her side.  I apologized profusely and asked her if she was all right.  Fortunately, she was.  Her backside was a bit sore, but all in all she came out smelling like a Pam rose.  Fortunately, also, was the fact that her mother had not seen our attempt at committing double suicide.  Had she seen what had just occurred, she would have come out running to what she thought was a broken and bloody daughter.  I reached to Pam to help her up and when my hand closed on hers I felt emotions I had never felt before.  After pulling her to her feet, we just stood looking at each other as we continued to hold hands.  Holding Pam’s hand, in reality, was nothing more than just holding her hand.  But this was the hand of Pam, no less wondrous than the hand of God, in my mind.  What can I say; I was in love with her.  Again, her mom called to her, and I let her slip her hand out of mine before her mom saw that we were actually touching each other.  I thought of that scenario many time throughout my life.  It still remains one of the highlights of the memories I have of Pam. 

  The First Time I Put My Arm Around Pam:

     As usual, the following account of events took place before Pam told me she loved me.  There was a house directly across the street from Pam’s house which had a chimney that was located on the side away from any window on either Pam’s or my house.  In my exuberance to spread the word that Pam and I were an item, at least in my eyes, I used the chimney as a place on which to proclaim that fact.  Using a green crayon, I wrote Mike and Pam in block letters on the chimney bricks.  To my surprise, when I went there the next day to declare that fact once again, I was amazed to discover the words Pam and Mike boldly written next to my previously written announcement.  Within days, we had covered all the available area on the chimney with like statements of affection.  The word love may have been written there a few times by me, but not even once by Pam.  That was all well and good; nothing changed here.  Soon the chimney was abandoned as a writing place and notes of affection were, instead, written on actual paper and folded and slipped between the house shingles beside the chimney.  The advantage of using paper was realized immediately, as the use of many words could express the various thoughts we wanted to provide each other much better than a few words in crayon on brick.  One of Pam’s many notes was actually eighteen pages long, each page filled on both front and back.  That girl could write.  And, in addition, we could read these notes on the go, a better situation all around.

     One day, we decided to sit together on the front steps of the secret note placement house.  We were bold in those days and took advantage of those steps without asking permission from the owners.  On this particular day, I was trying to gain the courage necessary to actually place my right arm around Pam’s shoulders.  This seemed the correct arm to utilize in this audacious endeavor since Pam was sitting to my right.  The little voice in my head was directing me.  “OK, now.  Sit a little closer to her…not too close.  That’s better.  Don’t want to shove her off the steps, huh?   Ok, ok, lift your arm over her back, that’s right, closer, closer, no, no, aw.. OK, OK, No problem, try again.  Move your arm over her, …closer, closer, now, put your hand on her shoulder, that’s right, put your hand on her shoulder, on her shoulder, no, no… no.  Awww what is your problem?   Listen, moron, put your arm across her shoulder!  Winter is coming!  She won’t sit here forever!  Do it,….do it!  There ya go, there ya go!  That’s it….that’s it!  Put your hand on her shoulder.  That’s better.  This is it, you’re going to do it ..going to,.. to.. Aw, hell!  You’re pathetic!

     Anyone who might have been in a position to observe me during this period of time would have wondered at my actions.  Sitting there like a bobble head doll, head bobbing around in unconscious responses to the nagging my little voice was subjecting me to, my arm moving up and down behind Pam like I was scratching her back.  The voice was right, I was pathetic!

     Meanwhile, Pam remained seated, looking straight ahead.  We had both stopped talking and were quietly sitting, the only movement being that described above.   It was almost as if she knew of the epic struggle going on in my head as she waited patiently for me to finally put my arm around her.  I don’t really understand why I had so much difficulty when it came to touching Pam.  If I put my arm around her and she did not like it, I would have stopped.  It wasn’t a criminal offense with the threat of prison time if she rejected my touching her.  There was nothing for me to be afraid of.  I think if  my love for Pam had been a bit less intense, it would have been easier to perform these little acts of affection.  Maybe, if that had been the case, I would not have been so afraid of the possibility of rejection.  But if that was true, then the emotional elation I got when I finally did touch her wouldn’t have been so breathtakingly wonderful.

     Well, I finally did work up the nerve to put my arm around Pam and actually put my hand on her shoulder.  Such a feeling of euphoria came over me that, well, here I am writing about it forty years later.  I sat there for a while, silent and contented with my arm around the girl I loved.  Moments such as this, common and unremarkable to some, were cherished and without equal in my eyes.

  The First Time I Kissed Pam:

     It was on a Sunday afternoon, once again before Pam told me that she loved me.  My parents and sister were gone someplace and the house was empty.  I asked Pam if she wanted to come into my house for a while and maybe watch some television.  To my delight, and surprise, she accepted my offer.  It is possible that this was the first time we were totally alone together, ever.  I mean, we could do whatever we wanted to do together in total privacy.  I thought of all the wonderful possibilities, and then turned on the television.  Actually, I was too scared to do any of the wonderful possibilities I had thought about doing.  So we settled in and started to watch a football game.  After all, it was a Sunday afternoon.  There was nothing else on TV on a Sunday afternoon.  And, I would endure any type of torture to sit beside the girl I was in love with.  We talked for a while about whatever.  We talked for a while longer about whatever else.  The whole time we were talking, I was attempting to work up the courage to try to kiss her on the lips.  That’s right, I said on the lips.  Pam’s lips.  Pam’s beautiful, soft, and oh so close lips.  What a coward I was.  If you had asked me why I didn’t make a move, I’d have said something, like, “I did not want to make her mad, or freak her out, or run her off.”  Those reasons were all, to some degree, true.  But what I should have said was, “I was too chicken.”  Not a very macho response, I know.  But it is what it is.  Had Pam been any other pretty girl, I would have had no problem trying to initiate a make out session.  I would have done it because that’s all it would have been, a boy and girl kissing.  But, Pam was not just another pretty girl.  And kissing her would not have been just another kiss.  To kiss Pam would have a lot of added implications attached to it.  I was in love with her.  And, as such, a wealth of insecurities presented themselves.  Would she actually let me kiss her?  And if so, should I use my tongue?  Just how far should I go?  My God, did I change my underwear?!

     I just knew that Pam would never allow me to kiss her.  If I even so much as looked like I was going to try, she would slap me in the face and stomp out of the house, vowing never to talk to me again.  I dared not risk such a thing, so I’d better not try.

     Just as I had decided that to try kissing her would prove to be too much of a risk, Pam hit me on the arm and said, “I don’t believe you.”  We were sitting on the couch, her on my left, the television to the right.  I turned towards her and she continued to say, “We are sitting here completely alone, and all you do is watch a football game!  You don’t even like football!  I don’t believe you haven’t tried anything.”  I looked at her face.  I looked at her lips.  Then it hit me.  “Oh my God, she wants me to kiss her!!!”  I wanted to jump up and yell to the world, “She wants me to kiss her; she wants me to kiss her!”  Instead, I did the most appropriate thing I could think of.  I asked her, “What are you talking about?”  She turned her head a bit to the side, squinted her eyes just a bit, and looked at me as if saying, ‘Wake up, cowboy!’  It was the moment of truth.  If I did not snap out of it and make a move, I may never get another chance.  Kind of like finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, but taking so long to pick it up that the rainbow vanishes and with it the pot of gold.  I WANT MY GOLD!

     I’m not exactly sure if I put my hands on her shoulders or my arms around her.  I think I put my arms around her.  I think she put her arms around me.  As our faces drew closer together, I looked into her eyes.  Never before had our eyes been so close together.  I could actually see my own reflection in those beautiful, beautiful eyes.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  The distance between our lips lessened.  I puckered my lips just a little, and I saw Pam’s lips pucker as well.  Then, as I felt our lips press together, a new realization came to me.  In my own mind, I knew what I thought love was.  In my own mind, I knew how I thought love felt.  Now, after that one moment when Pam’s lips and mine were pressed together, I knew in my own mind that I did not know anything about love, especially about how love felt.   All I knew was how the beginnings of love felt.  And that first kiss was a promise of more to come.  And I wanted more, so I kissed her again, then one more time after that.  At some time after that last kiss, it was time for Pam to go home.

     Fortunately, our kissing skills improved.  Much later, maybe even years later, we talked about those first kisses.  She admitted to me that they were somewhat lacking.  I suppose to her they were.  After all, she was not in love with me at that time.  Her expectation may have been greater than what I was able to provide.  But I was in love with her.  Nothing she might have done could have lessened the thrill I felt when our lips met.  To this day, I regard those first few kisses as the most memorable kisses I have ever experienced in my entire life.

     Also, another thing I think worthy of mentioning.  A few paragraphs before this one, I stated the following: Had Pam been any other pretty girl, I would have had no problem trying to initiate a make out session.  That statement may have been true before my lips met hers.  But after, I had no desire to kiss any other girl.  As a matter of fact, from the moments those first three inadequate kisses took place until well after I joined the U. S. Army and stopped seeing Pam all together, I did not kiss any other girl.  In addition, if things had worked out differently, and Pam and I remained together, my lips would never have touched those of another woman.  No girl or woman has ever measured up to Pamela Marie ******, neither then or now.  While it is true that I was married for over fifteen years to a wonderful woman, the love I felt for her was not the same as the love I felt for Pam.  It was not less; it was just of a different nature.  A guy might only find that type of love once, no matter how many times he loves.  Most guys never find it.  I am one of the lucky few who did.

  The First Time Pam Said She Loved Me:

     Oh, yes, that day finally came.  It came unannounced, unexpected, and at first, unrealized, as the following will clarify.  We were sitting on the cement steps that led to the back door of the building that had been the elementary school I attended.  Then it was Chapman Elementary School, but had since become a school resource center.  Whether it had been renamed Chapman Resource Center, I don’t know.  We were listening to a song on the radio. Sealed with a Kiss was the title of the song.  I really liked that song about a guy who was losing his girlfriend for the summer and was telling her how much he would miss her and that he would send her his love, everyday, in a letter and seal it with a kiss.  Very romantic stuff, it was, at least to me, a lovesick teen sitting with the girl he loved, but who did not love him back.  Our relationship had been that way for a very long time, years, even.  I suspected that she would never actually fall in love with me.  But, I cherished her company so much that I was happy just to be with her, whether she loved me or not.  Well, the song played on until the guy sang the following line, “I don’t want to say goodbye for the summer, knowing the love we’ll miss.”  After he sang that, I looked at Pam and said, “What has he got to complain about; he’ll only miss love for a summer.  I’ve been missing it for all these years.”  It was just a comment that I had made.  I didn’t really expect a response, especially the response I got, which was, “Well, you’ve got it now.”  Five simple words, obvious in their meaning to a rational person; but me, I was anything but rational when I was with Pam.  Her words entered my ears just fine, but short circuited my brain so badly that I failed to grasp the meaning of what she said.  I blew it off with a simple response, “Yeah, right!”, and I left it at that.  The girl I had been in love with for so long had, in her own strange way, finally said she loved me and I blew it off.  It was not that I did not believe her.  It was not that I did not understand her.  It was that the shock of hearing it blew the words right out of my head, and I didn’t even realize that she had said it.  We sat there for a while longer, but not too much was said.  Pam, after taking a great leap of faith and letting down her guard had told me she loved me and had received in return, not a bad response, but no real response at all.  I cannot begin to imagine how she must have felt.  I would have been heart-struck.  I had been telling her I love her for years, but I knew she didn’t love me.  From her point of view, she told me she loves me after hearing me say it to her hundreds of times, and my reaction was nil.  Pam was quiet and soon we left for home.  She did not say anything on the way home.  I sensed that something was significantly wrong.  Seriously, I actually knew that I missed some groundbreaking event and had not a clue what it was.  I replayed the previous events in my head over and over as we walked to the place where we would split up to go to our houses.  Slowly, it came to me what had happened, though I still doubted the conclusion I had come up with.  When we reached the separation point, which was basically just across the street from her house, she gave me a blank expression and started to turn away.  I had to stop her.  “Pam, wait.” I said as she began to walk home.  She stopped and turned towards me, still looking at me with no expression at all.  I gathered up all my courage and began to speak.  “Earlier, when I commented about the guy who was complaining about missing his girlfriend’s love for a single summer as opposed to me missing the same thing from you for so many years……and you said, ’Well, you’ve got it now,’ were you telling me that you love me?”  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I waited for Pam’s reply.  My whole world hung on what she was about to say and I watched her lips form the word as she said, “Yes.” She said yes!  She actually said yes!  Time snapped back to its normal rate, and I started to laugh.  I laughed and laughed.  I was like a hysterical, crazy man caught in a laughing loop.  I couldn’t stop; and I didn’t.  At least until I saw Pam becoming obviously upset. She walked closer to me and said, with no little display of anger, “That’s why I didn’t tell you before now!  I knew you would laugh at me and that’s exactly what you’re doing!  “NO! No, that’s not why I am laughing!  I’m not laughing at you!” I said excitedly, not realizing just how loudly I was speaking.  “You have just told me that you love me.  This time, I heard you.  I’m laughing because you have made me the happiest person in the world!”  Then I asked her to say it to me again.  Now Pam was smiling and when she said those words, “I love you,” I didn’t know what to do.  But I did know what I wanted to do.  I wanted to pull her to me and hold her tight.  I wanted to kiss her and spin her around so fast that her feet would leave the ground and swing out behind her, like the couples who do those spins while performing the wonderful ice skating dances to music that I see sometimes on television.  Even though I was in a state of pure ecstasy, I did have the good sense to refrain from performing the previously described ice skating dance with Pam because, after all, we were almost directly in front of her house.  Behind one of the exposed windows any one of Pam’s family members could be watching us at this very moment.  They must have heard me laughing like a mad man.  Pam would be in serious trouble if her mom or dad, or grandmother saw us embracing in such a manner.  My intuition was spot on, as at that moment, I heard a door open and Pam’s mom called for her to come in.  We said goodbye to each other.  As we walked away from each other and towards our respective houses, I turn to watch her as she went home.  She climbed her steps and looked briefly over her shoulder at me as she entered her house.  For a short moment in the history of mankind; for a brief time in the overall scheme of things, all was right with the world.

  Our First and Last Encounter Together with Portland’s Finest:

     When I say that Pam was a good girl, I mean that in the sense that she was “fetched up” right.  Her parents taught her the values that all young people should be taught.  She was kind, courteous, and friendly.  She never used bad language, she respected others, and, to the best of my knowledge, she never had an altercation with the police.

     One day, while we were sitting on the back steps of the school resource center, one of us noticed that the basement door to the building was unlocked and slightly opened. We had been sitting there talking for a while and nobody had entered or exited the building, so we figured someone failed to secure the building the day before.  Eventually, curiosity overcame common sense, and we ventured cautiously into the basement of the building.  I had gone to grammar school there for several years, so I knew the building very well.  If I remember correctly, we only went in as far as the first room past the boiler room, which is what the opened door led into.  It was a large open room with a couch along one wall.  There were several windows high on the front and right side walls of the room.  They were level with the ground outside, but we, inside the building, were well below the level of the windows.  We examined our current situation; Pam and I, in love with each other, alone together in a large private room with an available couch.  Hmmmm, what to do, what to do?  Well, naturally, I looked for a television to see if there was a football game on - - - NOT!  We went to the couch, sat down, and commenced an attempt to beat the all time make-out record.  We were well on our way in our record breaking effort, when we heard the sound of a slowly approaching car.  Curious as to whom it might have been, we ceased kissing and both looked up at the window above us along the right side wall.  Just outside this window was a seven or eight foot wide strip of pavement which ran alongside the building and connected the paved parking areas in the front and back of the resource center.  A feeling of pure fear fell around us as we saw a black and white police cruiser slowly advancing along the paved strip, no more than six feet from where we stood.  It was all too obvious that they were looking for someone, maybe even us!  Painfully obvious to the both of us, somebody had seen us enter the building and had called the police.  In my mind’s eye, I could see the judge behind a huge desk as he slammed the gavel down, exclaiming, ”Guilty!  Guilty of breaking in and making out!”  We looked at each other with eyes not unlike those of a deer caught in car headlights at night.  We grabbed each other’s hand and slunk our way back to the door through which we had entered and created this unfortunate situation.  Stopping at the door, we listened very carefully for the sounds of a police swat team, which was undoubtedly positioning themselves just outside to put down whoever came through that door.  With a sigh of relief, we heard nothing outside the door.  I opened the door ever so slightly and peeked outside.  No indication of anyone, police or otherwise, was anywhere to be seen.  OK, it was time to make our escape.  We quickly went through the door and ran over to the steps we were sitting on before entering the building.  A few minutes later we saw a police car driving past the resource center along Capisic Street.  It just drove on past like nothing was amiss.  We had successfully escaped the long arms of the law.  Although we had been less than smart to enter that building, that close encounter with the law while holding Pam’s hand provided me with a sensation I had never felt, before or since.  Holding the hand of the girl I loved, while both of us were scared to death was, I have to say it, very exciting; a unique feeling which provided an additional intensity of emotion to our love.

  In Closing:

     In finishing up this section of the various firsts I experienced with Pam, there is one obvious first that is missing.  If there was such a section, it would have been entitled The First Time Pam and I Made Love.  As it turned out, there was no first time in that area of our relationship.  Holding hands, hugging and kissing were the extent of our physical contact.  Pam was not the type of girl who would have knowingly allowed herself to be in a situation which could have led to the risk of pregnancy.  And I loved her too much to attempt to put her in such a position.   In all too many occasions, even good girls got pregnant.

For the Love of Pam

A Journal of Teenage Memories

Section Two

FAMILY

     Pam’s family consisted of six people, including Pam; her mother, father, grandmother, older brother, and younger sister.  These are the family members who all lived together in a white house on Mayor Road, in Portland, Maine.

     Pam’s father, Vernon, was a fireman.  I believe he was the chief of a local fire station.  I don’t recall any interaction between myself and Pam’s dad. This was probably a good thing, because, had I done anything of a questionable nature to Pam, I am pretty sure I would have a recollection of some type of discussion with her father.

     Her mother, whose name I think was either Mary or Marie, was an attractive woman, which can easily be attested to by the fact that was the stock from which Pam was produced.  I did have more occasions to interact with Pam’s mother than I did with her father, as she used to take turns with my mother taking Pam and me to St. Patrick’s, a religious school, where we attended an hour of the catholic equivalent of bible school each Saturday.  I am sure there were times when her dad or mine would do the chauffeuring of us to the school, but this was mostly done by the moms.

     Pam’s grandmother also lived with them.  I don’t remember her name, and I may never have known it to begin with.  I only saw her on rare occasions.  But I do know that she didn’t think very highly of me.

     Pam’s older brother, Richard, was several years older than me.  We never became friends, probably because we had those years between us.  He had his own set of friends and I had mine.  As far as I know, we shared not a single friend between us.

     Pam’s younger sister was maybe ten or so years younger than Pam.  I guess she was between four or five years old during the time Pam and I were actually the closest in our relationship.  If I remember correctly, her name was Linda; not certain, though.   She was a pretty little thing and real sweetheart.  I know this because one time Pam brought her to the school resource center’s playground.  We took turn pushing her on the swings and also playing on the teeter totter.  (I think I spelled that right.)  Pam and Linda sat on one side and me on the other.  We spent a fair amount of time on that playground that day and I did enjoy that time very much.

     Although Pam’s family and I never had a major falling out, there were a few times when I did have a significant event occur with one or another of them.  Three particular scenarios are represented in the cornucopia of Pam memories I possess.

  A Walk with Pam’s Family on a Warm Summer Night:

     It occurred on a very warm summer night.  I was heading home after sitting at the school resource center for a few hours, hoping to see Pam.  It was late, after nine o’clock I believe, because it was dark.  It was one of the hottest evenings I remember; I think about eighty-five degrees.  On the way home, I saw several members of Pam’s family walking toward me on the inside sidewalk of the block on which they lived. I was heading towards them on the opposite side of the street.  I’m not sure which members of Pam’s family were present, but her mother and sister were there.  Her grandmother, father and/or brother may have been there as well.  Pam was definitely with them.  As I passed them, I waved to Pam and she returned the wave.  To my amazement and surprise, I heard Pam’s mother call my name.  I stopped and turned to face them, and she asked me if I would like to walk around the block with them.  Would I?!  I checked my excitement and calmly said yes, I would, and quickly joined the group, walking beside Pam.  We walked around the block twice that night.  Pam and I said little to each other.  We mainly just kept glancing at each other and smiling.  Perhaps her mother asked me along so she could see how Pam and I acted in such close proximity.  If that was the case, it was a smart move on her part.  If she had not noticed before that there was something going on between us, she surely saw it now.  Or, perhaps Pam’s mother had a momentary weakness, remembering what it was like when she was a kid and in love.  Perhaps, in that weakness, she allowed Pam and I those few minutes together for no other reason than to just let us walk along in each other’s company.  For whatever reason, it was the first and only time that happened.

  A Conversation with Pam’s Mother:

     Another time, a day before I was to report to Fort Dix, New Jersey for Army Basic Combat Training, I actually spoke with Pam’s mother, in her house, while at their kitchen table.  I think it was at the table, but we might have been standing in the kitchen.  This scenario began in the evening, probably about seven-thirty or eight o’clock.  John F******, a friend of mine, and a girl he was seeing at the time were with me in my basement.  It was like a little send off as I was to leave the next day.  John and his girlfriend were making out on the couch, and I was missing Pam to a degree I had not known before that night.  Something had to be done.  There was a telephone in the basement and I went to it and dialed Pam’s phone number.  I still remember her phone number like it was yesterday, even though I only called it a few times.  772-7372. I was very pleased when Pam, herself, answered the phone.  I asked her if, since I was leaving the next day, she might be allowed to come over and spend a little time with me that evening.  Pam asked her mother if it would be OK, and, as I expected, since it was a school night, the answer was no.  We talked for a minute more before she said that she had to go.  With a heavy heart, I said good-bye and hung up the phone.  I was really upset.  Hurt and almost in tears, I sat down and contemplated the whole situation.  And you know what, it sucked.  I actually thought about having a face to face conversion with Pam’s mother to see if something could be worked out.  I would be gone tomorrow, what harm would an hour or so with Pam cause?  She would be home in time to get enough sleep for a school night.  It just was not fair.  Again, the notion to go to Pam’s house and speak to her mother rattled around in my head.  “Crazy,” the little voice in my head said, “You can’t be serious!”  Of course I couldn’t be serious.  It was insane to even suggest that I actually confront Pam’s mother about spending time with her daughter.  The little voice in my head was a real pain in the neck, but it was usually right in whatever it was telling me.  “OK, ok, you’re right,” I admitted to the voice, as I walked to the telephone and picked up the receiver.  “What are you doing?!  Put the phone down!” the voice yelled.  I started to turn the dial.   772 . . “Stop!” the voice yelled.  Right, I should put the phone down.  73 . . “I said stop!” the voice cried, as I dialed the last two numbers, 72.  There, it was done!  I put the receiver to my ear and waited.  “Now you’ve done it.” said the voice, “Now you’ve gone and done it.”  Pam’s phone rang once, and then again.  I still had time to hang up.  “Hello.”  It was Pam’s mother.  Of course it was.  She knew even before answering the phone that it was me.  Moms are smart that way.  I identified who I was; as if she didn’t know, and told her that I would like to talk to her.  She asked me what it was I wanted to talk to her about, as if she didn’t know the answer to that question, too.  I told her that it was Pam that I wanted to talk to her about.  She invited me to her house to talk about Pam.  I accepted the invitation and hung up the phone.  I gathered my wits about me and turned to head for the stairs and proceed to Pam’s house.  As I turned, I noticed that John was looking at me as if I was about to volunteer myself up for a firing squad.  “What did you just do?” he asked.  I held up my left hand. “I’ll be back.” I answered, “I’m going to talk to Pam’s mom.”  John’s jaw dropped almost to the floor.  “I know, I know,” I continued, “it’s something I have to do.”  I continued up the stairs and went out the door, stopping on my back porch.  I looked at Pam’s house.  Of course I had seen her house hundreds of times before, but this time, in the waning light of evening, it had an ominous look to it.  I stood there for a few more minutes, building up my confidence.  I had to be strong.  I could not face Pam’s mother without having the confidence necessary to speak to her with conviction.  Suddenly a horrifying thought entered my head.  What if Pam’s mom is not the only one there?  I mean, what if her dad, brother, and grandmother were there as well?  What if they all met me at the door?  I stood there trying to calm myself down.  The enormity of what I was about to do weighed heavy on my shoulders.  But, I could not turn back now.  I was committed.  To turn and run now was something I could not bring myself to do.  First, one step, then another; the distance closed between me and my objective.  It was a distance that would take no more than a couple of minutes to travel.  I arrived at the steps to Pam’s kitchen door.  I took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell.  I thought I was confident.  I thought I had conviction.  I was ready.  I turned and looked at the terrain between my house and where I now stood.  I beheld a sight that haunts me to this day.  There, lying in a trail that corresponded with the path I walked to get here, were numerous chunks of my confidence.  Confidence that had eroded off from me with each step I took on my way to talk to Pam’s mom.  And there also, between each chunk of my lost confidence, a shiny node of my conviction glowed brightly.

     There are times in a person’s life when he or she might have to do something that was truly frightening.   And usually, the fears that he or she might feel are exaggerated to a point that is way scarier than it actually is.  The anxiety I felt as I stood there was all consuming.  But I was sure that Pam’s mother was not a monster.  I was fairly certain that she would not tie me up and throw me to the lions.  At that point, I had lost all my train of thought and did not know what I was going to say, but, I would definitely have to say something.

     I heard the latch click as Pam’s mother opened the door.  After a moment, she motioned for me to enter.  The moment of truth had arrived.  I entered the kitchen and Pam’s mother said, “Hello, Michael, you have something about Pam that you want to talk to me about?”  She did not speak in a threatening manner.  She spoke as a concerned mother, wondering what I might have to say about her daughter, and hoping it was not some alarming news.  I was about to speak when I heard soft footsteps approaching from another room.  They were the footsteps of a stocking footed Pam, who was entering the kitchen.  She looked at me with something between a smile and a frown on her beautiful face.  It occurred to me that she may have been more uneasy about what I was going to say than I was.  After all, my having asked her mother if I could speak to her about Pam must have freaked her out to some degree.  But this would never do.  I could not speak to Pam’s mother with Pam right there in the kitchen.  I could feel myself shaking slightly as I said to Pam, “You have to go.  I cannot talk to your mom while you are in here with us.” or something to that effect.  Pam turned her gaze from me to her mother.  “Go in the other room, Pam.” her mother told her.  Thank God, I thought to myself as my shaking subsided.  Pam left the kitchen, but she didn’t go very far away.  I could see her toes where they extended a bit from where she hid around the corner.  That’s my girl, I thought, then turned my attention to her mother.  I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  The words were there, but without the confidence and conviction I had hoped to have with me at this precise time, they failed to emerge.

     During my life, I have had the opportunity to speak to the mothers and fathers of women I cared for very much, even a few that I loved.  Not one time did I ever shake or find myself at a loss for words.  Not once was I so scared or so nervous that I was incapable of speech.  Pam had an effect on me that defied explanation.  That same effect that caused me to balk when putting my arm around Pam or trying to kiss her for the first time left me standing before Pam’s mother speechless.  I was helpless and about to make a complete fool of myself when Pam’s mother rescued me by speaking first.  “I understand you are going into the Army tomorrow.  I also know that you and Pam are very close.  I suspect that you came here to ask for my permission to write to Pam while you are away.  Am I correct?”  I found my voice, “Yes, Ma’am, I would like to write to Pam while I’m gone.”  Pam’s mother continued, “I’m really sorry, Michael, but I cannot allow you to do that.  I want Pam to concentrate on her schoolwork and not devote time to answering letters from her boyfriend.”  Oh my God, she actually said letters from her boyfriend!  “I want you to understand,” she continued, “that it is very important that Pam do well in her studies.  When she has finished with her schooling and grown up some more, she can answer letters to her heart’s content.  I have no problem with you, Michael.  I think you are a good kid.  But at this stage, I would not allow any boy to take up Pam’s time.  Can you understand why that is so?”  Well, as much as I hated to admit it, I fully understood where she was coming from.  How could I argue with that?  “Yes, Ma’am, I understand what you’re saying.”  Then she said, “Thank you, Michael,” and stood up from her seat.  Obviously this conversation was over.  I turned and reached for the door.  “Michael,” Pam’s mom said to me, “it took a lot of courage for you to come here and speak to me about this.  That says a lot for your character and for how much you care about Pam.  Good luck with the Army.”  I thanked her and opened the door.  I looked back to where Pam had been standing.  She had come out from her hiding and gave me a sad little smile.  I gave the same to her.  Then, I walked out the door.

     As I walked home, I thought about what had happened and I was glad I went to see Pam’s mother.  I did not say what I had intended to say. But, the fact that Pam’s mom had made a reference to me as Pam’s boyfriend set really well with me.  That was the last time I ever spoke to Pam’s mom or any other member of her family, but it was not the last time I saw Pam before I left for Fort Dix.  Due to a screw up, I did not leave until the following Saturday morning.  I intercepted Pam on her way to school to tell her I would be around for a few more days.  On the following Friday, after Pam got home from school, she came outside and we met in the street between my house and hers.  We were closer to my house than hers, but we stood in plain view from many of the windows on Pam’s house.  We said our good-byes.  There were no tears in our eyes, but the sadness of our parting was palpable.  In the same moment, we reached out and wrapped our arms around each other.  We stood there for a short while, enjoying the closeness we felt.  Then we did our good bye kiss, just one long and passionate kiss.  In front of God, and whoever else might have been watching, we let our emotions run free, and the resulting kiss was worthy of any kiss that may have occurred between Romeo and Juliet.  With the exception of our first three kisses, this kiss remains the most unforgettable kiss I ever had.

  A Regrettable Encounter with Pam’s Brother:

     Richard, Pam’s older brother, and I had no interaction that I can remember with the exception of the one I now describe.  It really is a shame because Richard seemed to be a pretty good guy and I would have been able to see Pam a lot more often if he and I were friends.  But it was not to be.

     One summer day, a friend named Gregory P***** and I were standing on my back porch.  As I had done a thousand times before, I glanced at Pam’s house to see if I could catch a glimpse of her either in a window or outside in her yard.  I did not see Pam, but I did notice that Pam’s mother and brother were walking towards their house with an older lady from a house across the street.  I knew that the lady’s husband had either recently died or was near death in the hospital.  I guessed that Pam’s mother had invited her to their house and she and Richard were helping her to their home.  I remember telling Greg that the woman’s husband had either just died or was in the process of doing so.  To my horror, Greg yelled, as Pam’s mom and brother were helping the old lady up their front steps, “Is he dead yet?”  I was appalled by his blatant display of insensitivity.  I had never heard anyone say anything as mean and hateful as Greg had just said.  I looked at Greg and yelled something at him to the effect of, “What the hell is wrong with you!?”  Before he said a word, I saw him glance up the street and watched his eyes widen in fear.  He put a hand on the porch railing and leaped over it, onto the ground, and took off around my house to who knows where.   Then as I turned to see what made Greg run off in a hot minute, I saw Richard, in full stride, running towards me with a look of whoop-ass on his face.   No, no, no, no, no! This was not happening!  I was about to get pounded into the planks I was standing on by Pam’s brother.  What to do, what to do?!  I could not run.  If I ran, I would never be able to look Pam in the eye ever again.  To run would not only be admitting guilt for something I had not been guilty of, it would make me appear to be a coward in the eyes of the girl I loved.  Being a coward in the sense that I was apprehensive about the first time I put my arm around Pam or the first time I kissed her was one thing; I’ll admit to that.  But running from a fight I had never done before, and was not about to do that now.  Besides, there was not going to be a fight.  I was not about to raise a fist to Pam’s brother.  I, for one, would like to have seen Richard give to Greg his just dues.  Besides, if Richard had it in his heart to beat me senseless, I would not be able to stop him.  So, I stood there on the porch as Richard closed the distance between us.  As he ran up my driveway and onto the short path which would lead him to where I stood, I said to him, “It was not me who said that awful thing.  If Greg was still here I would hold him up for you to punch him out, but he ran off.  If you feel that you have to hit me, well, here I am.  Do what you have to do.”  I can’t remember the exact words that were said, but this was pretty close.  Richard seemed to calm down just a little.  He looked at the gap in the fence where Greg escaped through, and for a second, I thought he was going to go through it and try to catch up with him and finish what Greg had started.  Instead, he looked back at me and said,”If I ever get my hands on him.”  “I know.” I replied.  With that said, Richard looked at the ground for a second, then back at me.  I thought he was going to say something, but he just kept looking at me, then, shaking his head, he turned around and walked back to his house.  I would like to know what he was thinking as he looked at me, but I have not a clue.  It probably wasn’t anything good, anyway.

     So, there you have it.  I wish I could have made a better impression on Pam’s family, especially her grandmother.  But, as I said once before in this journal about something else I was referring to, “It is what it is.”  In this case, I guess, “It was what it was,” would be more appropriate.

For the Love of Pam

A Journal of Teenage Memories

Section Three

FRIENDS

     Pam and I each had our own circle of friends.  Mine consisted primarily of John F******, Joey P****, Michael T****, Wayne V*****, Gregory P*****, and Christopher C****.  There were a few others but the aforementioned were the friends I ran around with the most.  Pam seemed to have only one close friend that I remember named Lisa C****, I believe.  At least, Lisa was the one Pam seemed to hang around with the most.  There was another girl she was with on rare occasions.  Her first name was Patty, and she had an older sister named Susan.  I can’t for the life of me remember their last names, but I do remember that they owned a dachshund named Mitsy.  Wait a second; I think their last name was G******.  That’s right, Patty and Susan G******. I am sure she must have had more friends, but I don’t remember their names.

     Over a period of time, friends became less Pam’s friends or my friends, but more, our friends.  She was accepted right in with my friends.  Of course she was; my friends were all guys and she was a very pretty girl.  On a few occasions I would hang out with Patty G****** or her sister, when Pam was not around, but with Lisa only with Pam present.  For the most part, we all got along fine, but there were a few instances that problem arose.  This section will describe some of those problems, starting with the more problematic and working down to the most embarrassing or humorous.

  Gregory P*****:

     This jerk was the one who yelled out “Is he dead yet?” I discussed in the FAMILY section under A Regrettable Encounter with Pam’s Brother:   I only mentioned him here to say that after that unfortunate incident, I stopped hanging out with Greg.  I was no saint, but I did have a moron tolerance rating with my friends, and Greg crossed the line.

  Wayne B****:

     Wayne was a good friend.  For a while we ran together a lot; that is, until he began to show an interest in Pam.  This was during the time we would meet at Sue Ann L*******’s house during early evenings.  Once I realized that he, too, liked Pam, I knew something had to be done.  And, when Sue Ann told me that Pam liked me a little bit more than she liked Wayne, I knew it had to be done as soon as possible.  So I confronted him about this situation.  I told him I had a thing for Pam, and I believed that he did, also.  I explained that this could be a problem.  I said that, originally I had decided that, if he was insistent about pursuing her I might step aside in order to preserve our friendship.  But after thinking about it some more, I knew I was not willing to just back off, and if he was determined to continue his seeking of Pam’s affections, we could no longer be friends.  I told him that I thought I would never be willing to give up a friendship over a girl, but in this case, I was adamant.  We would either be rivals or friends, we could not be both.  He agreed to back off and I was grateful for that.  However, since that conversation, we seemed to hang out less and less until our friendship seemed to dissolve away.

  Michael T****:

     Mike had a few emotional problems.  He was a good friend also, but he was way more sensitive than most guys and took some things way too serious because of it.  I remember one time in particular.  Pam and I were together at the back steps of the school resource center.  At some point, Mike joined us.  It was cool.  I had no problem with that.  Pam and I were only talking, not doing anything requiring privacy.  After a while, Mike asked me to go someplace with him.  I can’t remember where he wanted to go, but I was not about to leave Pam.  I had been with Pam before Mike showed up, and I was not going to ditch her.  Mike got a bit upset and walked off, leaving Pam and I alone once again.  After a while, it was time for Pam to go home.  I walked with her across the school resource center field and along street to the same place where she first said the words, “I love you,” to me.  We said goodbye and she crossed the street to her house.  As I turned to go home, I heard what I thought sounded like someone crying coming from someplace nearby.  As I focused in on the sound, I discovered it was coming from an area behind a hedge, near the chimney where Pam and I left our love letters.  When I looked behind the hedges, I found Mike sitting there crying.  I did not have to ask him why he was crying, I already knew why.  He was hurt because I chose to stay with Pam instead of going with him to where ever it was he had asked me to go.  I knew of his sensitivity and did not purposely try to hurt his feelings, but I had.  I sat down beside him, wondering what I could say to fix this.  So, I began, “Mike, you are I are friends, right?”  He nodded.  “And we have been friends for a long time, right?”  Again, he nodded.  I continued, “I like you a lot, Mike, I like having you as a friend.  And you like me being your friend, right?”  Again, he nodded; a man of few words.  “I love Pam.  You know that, right?”  Once again he nodded, but also said, “Yeah.”  He seemed to have stopped crying and was intently listening to what I was saying.  “Because I love her, I want to spend as much time with her as possible.  Like, I have to be with her.  When I am not with her, I feel lonesome in my heart.  I was with her when you came to the school yard.  When you asked me to go with you, you wanted me to leave Pam and go with you, right?”  He looked at me and said, “Yes.”  “Well, Mike, I could not do that.  I could never do that.  To ditch her to go with you would have made her feel bad, kind of how you felt when I found you crying here.  You would not really want me to make her feel like that, would you?”  He sat up and said, “No, I am sorry.”  I told him, “You and I can spend a lot more time together than Pam and I can.  So, please don’t ever ask me to leave her, OK?”  “OK,” he replied.  “Great!  Now, where was it you wanted to go?”  We stood up and went where ever it was he wanted to go.  Mike was true to his word.  He never again asked me to ditch Pam for any reason.

     The conversation I described above is, of course, not verbatim, but it reflects the basis of what took place.

  John F******:

     I probably hung around with John more than any of the others.  One day, while I was riding my bike along Brighton Avenue towards home, I saw John and Pam standing on the bridge across the street from my house.  It looked to me like they were kissing.  I could not believe my eyes, so I had to verify what I thought I saw.  As I rode past them and into my driveway, they came into my yard and we went in my house.  I asked them both to stand face to face in my dining room at the furthest corner from the living room.  Then I walked to a point as far away as I could.  Then, I turned and looked at them and told them to kiss!  Yup, that’s right, I told John and Pam to kiss so I could compare that with what I thought I saw earlier.  Pam started telling me that I was crazy if I thought she would kiss John or anyone else because I told her to.  She absolutely refused and started for the door.  I cut her off and begged her to forgive me.  Damn, did I feel foolish?  You better believe it.  This was probably the single most embarrassing thing I did while with Pam.  She calmed down but still chose to leave.  After she left, I looked back at John and he just shook his head.  If I remember right, it took a few days for Pam to forgive me fully.  I can’t say that I blamed her.

  Joey P****:

     One summer day, while Pam and I were enjoying each other’s company during an on the lawn make-out session, Joey P**** showed up at the end of my driveway.  We were lying on the grass behind the hedges when he interrupted us to say that he would stand guard at the end of the driveway until we were finished with what we were doing.  Something about his offer to stand guard just did not sit right with me, but, since Pam and I did not often indulge in lying down side by side make-out engagements, I blew it off and concentrated on the task at hand.  After a few moments, a shadow appeared over us.  I thought it was just Joey and ignored it.  Suddenly, a mature female voice said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk….You kids had better be careful.”  I immediate rolled off Pam (I wasn’t actually on top of her, but rather leaning over her from the side) and looked up into the face of my grandmother, who was leering down at us.  Then I noticed my grandfather walking towards the back door of my house.  He was looking at me and smiling, as he nodded his head, obviously approving of what I was caught doing.  My grandmother then turned and followed him to the back door.  I looked towards the end of my driveway and observed Joey having a laughing melt down.  He was bent over with his hand over his mouth trying not to fall over or make any laughing noise.  Turns out the whole guard offer was a set up.  He had seen my grandparents pulling to the side of the street and decided to see if he could get us caught red handed.  I was not too happy with Joey for doing that because it could have been a potential problem for Pam if my mother had called hers to tell her what we got caught doing. Fortunately nothing happened because my grandmother didn’t say anything about it.  After my grandparents went into the house, I ran towards Joey to knock him down, but he took off running and since I did not want to leave Pam, I didn’t follow.  Then, Pam decided to go home.  I think she was embarrassed because we were caught in such a position.

  In Conclusion:

     Overall Pam got along well with my friends, some more so than others.  And, they all behaved themselves, for the most part, while she was with us.