DELMER & CECIL DELMER AND CECIL Memories of Melanie Grade eight is a pivotal event in a fella’s
life. When you’re in grade eight you’re a big fish in a little pond, a mover and shaker. You’re considered a real catch for grade seven girls. Remember the dances after school (usually
on Fridays)? At my school they were called prep dances. I really don’t know why. They were highly ritualistic affairs where boys would gather on one side of the gym and the girls on the other. The only ones dancing were the couples that had been going out since grade six. The other dancers were invariably girls
dancing with other girls. The reason for this was that the boys were too afraid to ask them to dance. It was a horribly terrifying and courageous thing to pluck up the courage to walk the distance between the two groups with all the guys watching and holding their breath in disbelief. The time-honoured response, if you were
turned down with an off- hand “No thank you” and you had to walk back across the width of the gym empty-handed with all your friends snickering and laughing, was to respond in a loud voice: “Don’t thank me. Thank God somebody asked you.” The turning point for me in this odd ritual
was Melanie Plunkett. I know every school had at least one
of these rare individuals− girls physically advanced beyond their years. Melanie had attributes that made the other
girls look like a cheap ironing board. When she walked into the gym, all talking ceased on the boys’ side. I made up my mind right then and there
that if I danced with Melanie Plunkett my position as stud of the century was assured. I began my walk over no-man’s land. It was like going over the top in the first Great War. As I approached her, the silence in the gym
40 BOUNDER MAGAZINE
became deafening. “Hi Melanie, would you care to dance?”
I said in a high cartoonish-like voice that would make Mel Blanc proud. My knees were knocking, I was sweating like a sprinkler and I almost voided myself right there. “Sure,” she said. And, as if on cue,the guy
on the record player slipped on a slow, dreamy number. I hadn’t thought this out. In order to ask a
girl to dance you should always make sure you know how to dance. I didn’t. My first move was to embrace her in
something akin to a wrestling hold I saw Little Beaver do on Saturday night wrestling. The girls began to cackle with laughter and the boys started hooting with glee. We finally settled down into a semblance of
dancing and at one point I held her close, and I was nearly impaled by her charming qualities. This caused a profound change in my profile. The music ended, and Melanie said thank
you and went back to her gaggle of friends who kept asking questions and staring at me after each answer. To this day I’m sure the record guy planned
the next move for he didn’t put on a record for it seemed like five minutes. I had to make it back from the far side of the gym with the identifying mark of my manhood revealed. I looked like a hermit crab scuttling home. But, after the wisecracks and laughter died
down, the attitude changed: “Did you cop a feel?” etc. And yes , for the rest of my career in grade
eight, I was the only guy to have danced with Melanie Plunkett. Well, nice goin’ down memory lane with
you. Until next time – Cecil
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BOUNDER MAGAZINE 41
BOW LEGGED continued from page 8
legged til their bones and soft tissues mature. However, for adults, being bow-
legged and fast is only advantageous if you’re running down the street carrying a TV you’ve looted. Or if you spend a lot of time on horseback. Arthritic knees are a common
result. Actually, the reverse holds true as well. Arthritic knees can produce bow-leggedness, a doubly painful situation. In either case, men who might want to exercise by, say, running or power-walking, are hindered by the pain. A bow-legged fellow is likely
to have worn away cartilage on the inner part of the knee joint (if worn down on the other side, it can lead to knock-knees). Cartilage is a tissue connecting bone to bone and a substance you really want to maintain in good shape. If damaged through injury or being overweight, cartilage injuries are debilitating. Aches become pains and pains hinder movement. The inevitable result could be this: “Can’t vacuum today, dear. Knees
are really sore.” “Oh, Dougie. If only you hadn’t
been so quick on the playing field!” I haven’t seen Dougie since high
school and don’t know if he’s still fast or if I could outrun him, even over long distances. But at the very least, I’m able to
vacuum pain-free.
Ottawa writer Richard Bercuson is the author of Inside Coaching Hockey and Assume the position. He is not bow-legged.
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