By Barbara Garnett, May 22, 2018 — In the 50’s and 60’s someone was always having a dance, skating party or birthday party. In the skating rink around and around, we would go for hours. My parents would give us money and we would go with our church Parish on a bus trip. It always seemed to be a short ride.
Now, think all my friends are getting ready for the last Sweetheart Skate. I was hoping someone would ask me to skate. A boy took my hand and around we went. That was the last skating dance of the night. We never saw each other again. I felt like a princess on skates; no kisses.
When it came to house parties or dances, you paid at the door or bought tickets in advance. Those were the nights or days when you’d meet Mrs. or Mr. Right, some of the finest brothers across the city. Most of the time, I lied about my age. In most cases when you told them you lived in North Philly, it was the kiss of death. You knew you’d never see them again. In the 60’s, the guys with nice homes lived in the Northeast or West Philly. The last dance of the night was a wrap, over and out. Birthday parties were with friends most of the time. Each of us knew each other; not much action and no kisses.
My best kiss was with Elliott, my husband. My best dance was with Mr. Grant, my dad. I knew I was his favorite little girl. The best day of my life was with my dad and Elliott on the floor. If I could only have one more dance with Mr. Grant. We were the meanest dancers but maybe a little out of step.
