(5) Guitars & Radio & Wild Wild Women. Chapter V (Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues) 3/09/22

Wearing shades in the classroom
while writing tunes
It appears to have gone over
like big lead balloons

As my musings move forward, I suddenly realized that I was never in charge of my life.
In fact, I never chased anything, it always chased me which includes most of the women I loved.

Ahh, my second summer in the town of Transcona, but unlike the old song claims, “The livin’ ain’t easy.”
My father decided that it was time for me to become gainfully employed so there I was pumping gas at a local service station every weekend.
Around the same time that I started working, I also started growing my hair, which didn’t go unnoticed at home.
Once again, I got to hear, “If I buy your clothes, you wear what I buy you, and if I pay for your haircuts, you’ll get it cut how I want it cut.”

Oops, “Sorry Dad, ain’t going to do it. I’ll pump a little more gas and buy my own haircut. (I’m pictured above wearing shades and sporting my James Dean “do”)

How’s that old Sam Cooke tune go again? “Another Saturday Night, And I Ain’t Got Nobody.”
Hey Sam, you’re singing about my life, but unbeknownst to me, that was about to change big time.

I was standing out side of the East End Community Club one summer night when a car pulled up and a sultry voice rang out saying, “Hey, sweetie, can you come over here for a minute?”
Doing my best, James Dean, I strolled over, and as the back window goes down, I find myself staring at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She looked like a young version of Marilyn Monroe.

I just stood there speechless until she asked me for a light, and when I mumbled something about not being a smoker, she just smiled and asked if I could get her one?
Within seconds, I was back and as I fired her up, she said, “Hey, you’re kinda cute; what’s your name? When I told her that it was George, she took hold of my hand, slipped a piece of paper into it, and said, “Hey Georgie, why don’t you call me up sometime,” and with that, the car disappeared into the night.

It took me a few days to work up the courage to call her, but she seemed pleased to hear from me when I finally did.
After making some small talk, she asked if any dances were happening near me this weekend?

When I told her there was one Friday night at the Maple Leaf Community Club, she asked if I would like to pick her up and take her?

Thankfully, before I could confess to her that not only didn’t I have a car, I didn’t even have a driver’s license, she saved me by saying that it would be easier for her to take the bus rather than trying to explain where she lived.

Ok, picture this, a fifteen-year-old punk (see photo above) strolling into the Maple Leaf Community Club with this voluptuous Marilyn Monroe look-alike on my arm when suddenly I’m surrounded by a bunch of the seniors from my High School.
Huh? They were acting like we hung out all the time. Hell, I had no idea how they even knew my name, but they sure did that night.

Oh, what a night!  I spent most of it dancing with her, and as I did, I was wishing and hopin’ that she was one of those bad girls my Dad warned me about.
Being only fifteen, I had no idea what you did with one of these beauties, but I was sure eager to learn.

Unfortunately, all I learned from her was how to smoke, which I did to look older.However, I did discover something that I’ve used my whole life.
It makes no difference how much money you have, who your parents are, where you grew up, who you know, or where you went to school, “He who walks into the room with the best-looking lady on his arm, owns the room!”

(Shown below are a few of the ladies who graced my arm when I walked into a room filled with my competitors.)


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