Chapter V (Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues) 1/30/23. (5)

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

When I look at my life, I’m beginning to realize that I wasn’t really in charge of it, it was in charge of me..
I never was successful chasing much anything and most of my successes came looking for me.

Ahh, my second summer in Transcona, but unlike the song claims, “The livin’ ain’t that easy.”
My father had decided that I was old enough to become gainfully employed so there I was every weekend, pumping gas at a local service station. width= About the time I started working, I also started growing out 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 just pump a little more gas and buy my own haircut.
That’s me in the shades pictured above sporting my new “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 cooling off outside of the East End Community Club in Transcona when a car pulled up, and a sultry voice rang out into the night, “Hey, sweetie, can you come over here for a minute?”
Doing my best, James Dean, I strolled over and found myself staring at what looked like a young Marilyn Monroe.

As I stood there speechless until she asked me for a light, and when I mumbled I didn’t smoke, 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 said that hers was Pat.
Then she took my hand, and as she slipped a piece of paper into it, she said, “Hey Georgie, why don’t you call me,” 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, which was right near where I live, she asked if I wanted to pick her up and take her
Thankfully before I could confess to her that not only didn’t I have a car, I wasn’t even old enough to have a driver’s license, she claimed that it would be easier for her to take the bus than try to explain where she lived.

Ok, picture this, a fifteen-year-old punk strolling into the Mapes with this voluptuous Marilyn Monroe look-alike on his arm.
Suddenly I’m surrounded by a bunch of the seniors from my High School and they were acting like we hung out together. Hell, I didn’t think 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 a hopin’ that she was one of those bad girls my Dad warned me about.
Being fifteen, I had no idea what you did with them, but I was sure eager to learn.

>Unfortunately, all she taught me, was how to smoke which I did trying to look older.
However, because of her, I learned something 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!”

(Pictured 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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