1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

First Kiss

Boys, listen up! Do NOT playfully slap a first-kiss on a girl unless you make sure that she isn’t boy crazy. She will annoyingly dog you like a bloodthirsty mosquito.

Egged on by his buddies, Allen sincerely regretted his impromptu action, since it caused me to stalk him for the remainder of my time at Dix Avenue grade school.

This girl is on fire. Do not ignite her flame by kissing or you will pay.

This girl is on fire. Do not ignite her flame by kissing or you will pay.

At the end of our first day of fourth grade I stood in bus line, in front of Allen and a few of his friends. Mrs. Crannell, our new teacher, announced earlier that we added another state, Hawaii, during summer vacation. It didn’t seem a big deal, because we got Alaska the previous January. I figured we’d keep getting a new state each year. I’m still waiting.

Suddenly, I was swooped backwards over Allen’s outstretched leg. I looked up into his face and he kissed me, just like in the movies. With his dared-deed completed, he straightened me up and turned his back. He thought he was finished with me. Ha, my homing signal was zeroed in on him.

His friends guffawed and slapped him on his back. Their laughter was cut short by the bus-line monitor. She sent Allen to the principal’s office and told me to follow him.

Allen and I sat in the glass-walled waiting room, watching the kids in line pointing at us. I beamed with pleasure, knowing they all knew I was kissed in the most romantic way imaginable. Allen didn’t look as pleased. He would have been less happy if he knew he ignited my undying devotion–for what would seem like an excruciatingly long year. The monitor escorted us to our bus after the other kids finished loading. I held my head high, basking in my celebrity status.

Fast forward: When I turned sixteen, I related my bus line story to my cousin Annie. My family had moved from the school district, and Dix Avenue graduates merged with Annie’s school in Fort Edward. Annie informed me that my Allen asked her to a school dance and she turned him down. Although I would no longer recognize Allen if I fell over him, disbelief, indignation, and jealousy swept in and slowly (very slowly) filtered out.

Allen’s bus line dare set a high standard for kissing that didn’t get repeated for a lot longer than I wanted.

Lesson learned: An early start isn’t always a measure of future success.

Related Posts: Boy Crazy/Impressing Boys ; Boy Crazy/Runaway Parade; Boy Crazy/Tale of two Lennys 

Now it’s your turn: Tell me about your first kiss.


© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


  1. CJ says:

    My first ‘french kiss’ was when I was 14…with the really cute boy next door…it was pretty awful..he was chewing a huge wad of grape BubbleYum bubble gum and he pushed it with his tongue into my mouth. Who wouldda thunk it that this super-cute, very popular boy from school would eventually grow up to use drugs and then murder somebody; he’s been on California’s Death Row for 20+ years now….he was the first kiss…but I never was too great at picking the ‘right’ guy after that…I finally figured it out by the time I was in my mid-thirties, thank goodness!.
    As always, I enjoyed reading your blog post.

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Oh my gosh, CJ, grape BubbleYum – yuk! Now, if it was Teaberry, things might have turned out differently, ha ha.
      Never judge a book by it’s cover, but always judge a boy by his gum.

  2. Hi there, I enjoy reading through your article. I like
    to write a little comment to support you.

  3. spunkybong says:

    Ha Ha! Skinny, the first time I kissed, it was a girl named Pushy, in Chenai, India. She clenched her lips tight so I wouldn’t be able to snake my tongue in. And she trembled like a leaf, standing rigid, her fists clenched, hands down by her sides. Being shorter by a head, she then wiped her lips on my shirt front with a look of disgust writ large on her. 😀

  4. Equipping The Saints says:

    Good account. You were really “the bomb!”

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