Driving Miss Linda

Last Friday the news of Egyptian actor Omar Sharif's death in Cairo saddened movie buffs around the world.  Sharif was an international star whose film career extended almost right up to his passing from a heart attack at age eighty-three.  His most famous role was that of the title character in the 1965 epic of the Russian Revolution, Doctor Zhivago (scanned April 1, 2012; B+), for which he won a Golden Globe Award.  But the movie I personally associate more with Sharif is 1962's Lawrence Of Arabia, for which he also won a Golden Globe and a nomination for an Academy Award.  I remember it well because is was the destination for my first real date.

In the winter of 1962-63 I was a fifteen year old sophomore at Assumption High in Davenport, Iowa.  Although I had been the so-called "boyfriend" of several girls in grade school and the first year and a half at Assumption --  mostly girls I barely knew, artificial connections manufactured by female classmates with too much time on their hands -- I had never really gone on a date.  By "date" I mean picking a girl up, taking her somewhere (not just hanging out), and then bringing her back to her house.  Once I became fifteen, I thought it was about time, maybe even long overdue.  The two biggest obstacles to executing my plan were building the courage to ask someone out, and dealing with the fact that I was under sixteen and therefore without a driver's license.  Since I figured there was a better-than-even chance I might not ever build up the courage to overcome the first obstacle until I was, say, seventeen, I decided not to worry about the car issue.  By the time I'd be seventeen, I'd have my own wheels!

 

Surprisingly, the first hurdle was overcome with relative ease.  As I've written before (in my August 25, 2012 post), Assumption was not co-ed, so the only high school girls I knew very well were my former classmates from Our Lady Of Lourdes Grade School in Bettendorf, Iowa.  I chose Linda Roemer as the "target" because she met my three criteria: pretty (call me "shallow" if you must), talkative (to complement my reticence) and a Lourdes alum.  In a weak moment, she said yes.  It's a good thing she said yes because my universe of potential candidates was countable on one hand, and I may not have ever continued the quest beyond a rejection from Linda.

 

Now it was time for figuring out transportation.  I did not know any Assumption upperclassmen (read: drivers) well enough to propose a double date, so I had to ask the one person I knew would oblige: The Marquis.

 

As I correctly predicted, Pook had way more questions about my upcoming date than did The Marquis.  How do you know Linda?  What is she like?  How did you go about asking her?  Where does she live?  What are you going to do?  Do you know her parents?  Etc.  The Marquis, on the other hand, had only one very practical question.  Do you want to sit in the back seat with Linda, or would you prefer that you both sit in the front with me?  Better to figure this out now instead of experiencing an awkward hesitation later.

 

I only remember my dad owning one kind of car, a station wagon for hauling National cash registers.  Nothing impresses a girl more than pulling up in a big ol' station wagon with a couple of clunky registers in the far back.  In any event, it was my feeling that it would seem more like a date if Linda and I sat in the back (i.e., between the front seat and the registers) than crammed in the front with the old man.

 

Time for an aside:  The Marquis gave me some advice which I deemed to be good and therefore attempted to follow.  He said, if you want to ask a girl out, do so several days, maybe even a week, before the planned outing.  If you wait until the last minute, you give the impression that she was not the first girl you had in mind for that evening, not to mention that the longer you wait the greater the chance that she will have made other plans.  The main downside for me was that, for the entire week leading up to the big Saturday night with Linda, it was hard for me to concentrate on anything else, like classes and studying.  The Nerves Meter was in the red zone throughout.

 

The Roemers lived in Bettendorf, as did my family.  My dad pulled in their driveway, and I went to the door to get Linda and to meet her parents for the first time.  I stepped into the living room and, although both of her folks were friendly, they were sizing me up with a list of questions that would have made Pook's list look like an abridged Readers' Digest version.  (In case you are wondering, no, they did not ask me to present a personal financial statement!)  At some point during the multi-minute inquisition, Linda sneaked out and went to the station wagon.  If you are guessing that she sat in the front seat with The Marquis, you would be correct.  So much for that part of my plans!

 

The seating arrangement actually turned out to be fine because my dad, with his Irish wit, could keep just about any conversation rolling.  We needed it to keep rolling because we were headed for Illinois.  "Why Illinois?" you might ask.  Well because the movie I chose for the date was the one everybody was buzzing about, Lawrence Of Arabia, and the only Quad Cities venue where that film was playing was the Rocket Theater in Rock Island, Illinois.  For those of you who are not Geography Bee participants, the Quad Cities are comprised of Davenport and Bettendorf, separated from Moline, Illinois and Rock Island by the Mississippi River.

 

Most guys, when they are selecting an activity for their first date with a girl, will choose something which will enable them to get to know each other better.  For example, going bowling, to a sporting event or out to dinner would afford opportunities for talking and asking each other questions.  Most would avoid movies altogether, because they obviously do not lend themselves to chit chat.  Not me.  Instead of doing the smart thing, I chose not only to go to a movie, but to go to one with a running time exceeding three and a half hours!  Other than a mumble here and there, Linda and I sat in silence for over three and a half hours (two hundred twenty-seven minutes, to be exact).  Well, at least it lessens the prospects of saying something stupid!

 

When the closing credits were rolling, I asked Linda, "Do you think this is a double feature?"  I had been working on that joke for the past two hundred twenty-seven minutes.

 

I'm not sure if she thought that was funny, because her reply was, "His eyes were so blue!"  She was referring not to Sharif, who had a supporting role, but to lead actor Peter O'Toole, whose eyes were, indeed, a deep, almost mesmerizing blue.

 

We had roughly twenty minutes until The Marquis was scheduled to chauffeur us back home to Iowa, so we ducked into a diner next to the Rocket for ice cream.  This was, after all, the early sixties, and finishing up a date with ice cream, just like you would a meal, was in fashion.  It was the best part of our date, the only time we had to talk alone.  Throughout the brief treat, Linda must have commented on O'Toole's blue eyes three or four more times.  She was in love, but not with me.  When The Marquis showed up he asked us, "How did you two like the movie?"

 

I preempted Linda by immediately replying, "It was a little too long, but you wouldn't believe Peter O'Toole's blue eyes!"