One reason why City Girls mature more quickly

Well, it happened back in 1966.  Evelyn and I were 14, best friends at JHS 141 in Riverdale — just  a subway ride away from the city.

We were both well-established in a lucrative trade.  Babysitting.  I suppose I was a bit busier, at the time,  thanks to five children who kept me hopping on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday nights.  It was fun earning money the nicest way we could imagine, and almost as much fun spending it.

One late Sunday afternoon, after touring Lord & Taylor,  we walked over to Franklin Simon,  just for a quick visit before we needed to head north for dinner.     We were examining the counters, when a  very tall woman in a long black coat approached us suddenly with an invitation.  She was eager to help us launch  a new, exciting  life at the Hotel St. George in Brooklyn, where we’d be spending time  with doctors and lawyers.  E cringed, while I lingered, hoping to collect a few more details — doing what?  That’s when the black coated fiend assured us that we would be “anaesthesized for ‘the first time’ and wouldn’t feel a thing.”  Evelyn grabbed my hand and tugged it as hard as she could — she skiied the Intermediate slopes and knew her way around.  With my wise friend in charge, we tore off from what could have been the worst experience of our lives, scouted out the store detective (E’s idea), and never saw the Black Coat again!

Thank goodness, my friend  figured it all out, while I was still busy collecting facts.  During our ride home,  Evelyn filled me in on what could have happened.   She was what my mother called “a very smart cookie,” and not too long after, graduated from Dartmouth,  and now has a court room of her own.

Though I never saw the Black Coat again, my urban navigation skills matured significantly.   The sort of thing you just can’t learn in school.