Teenage Angst Redux

Everyone has a story from their teenage years that follows them into adulthood. This is my story.

It was Junior High School and me and the rest of the midgets were starting to grow up. We were leaving our Danskin sets behind for mini skirts and bell bottoms. In fact the school dress code now allowed girls to wear pants to school! Best of all we were finally old enough to go to teen night at the "Y"! We had arrived!

So there I was in my bell bottoms that were bought in the Village. Not *a* village but *the* Village which for non New Yorkers refers to Greenwich Village the bastion of hippie coolness in the days when they were cool. I carry a little hippie- ness with me to this day and I wear it proudly. Getting back to the matter at hand, I found myself not only in new cool clothes but also crushing on a kid named Simon. He was way cooler than his name would imply. So its with that crush in hand that I went to a dance at the Y.

Luckily I was not left at the sidelines at the dance. I was not a pretty flower hovering by the wall because Harold Walker asked me to dance. This is the moment when it starts to get interesting. Harold was Simon's best friend. In fact anyone who knew them back then would say they were like brothers. Harold pretty much lived at Simon's house. It honestly never occurred to me that Harold was interested in me. All that I thought was that dancing with Harold would get me closer to Simon. It sounds callous but it was really just stupidity mixed with my slightly awkward teenage sense of myself. But really, why else would he have danced so much with me? If I only knew then what I know now!

One small detail you'll need to know about Harold. He was African American or as we said then Black. The next night I got a call from Harold asking me out. I said no. After all it wasn't Harold I wanted to go out with but his best friend Simon. Then it happened. Simon called me. This was not the moment I had been waiting for because all Simon wanted to know was why I wouldn't go out with Harold. My 14 year old self wasn't going to tell Simon the truth. What was I stupid? I think that fact is already well established! Since I had no logical explanation for my behavior Simon filled in the blanks. I was prejudiced. I didn't go out with Harold because he was Black. Nothing I said changed Simon's mind. In fact the only thing that could have changed his mind was the truth. However at 14 I would rather let him think I was prejudice than let him know I liked him.

As an adult I have often thought about Harold Walker. I doubt he even remembers the incident. Still I would love to be able to tell him the truth. I did look for him. I looked for Simon too, figuring that where there's Simon there's Harold. I found Simon. I told him the whole story and he got mad! Well in a good way. He said that by not telling him the truth I stole from him the possible opportunity of being with the love of his life! Who knows what direction our lives would have taken had we gotten together! As if! As if he was even remotely interested in me at the time. Sweet nonetheless. The 14 year old in me was flattered!

Unfortunately Simon lost track of Harold. That saddened me. Finding Harold has been an impossible task. With a name like Harold Walker it's like finding a needle in a haystack. I'm not sure this tale of teenage angst will ever get closure. I'll always think of Harold and I smile when I do. He was a great guy. My loss and my gain. I gained by learning from this experience. Oh there were plenty of other times I screwed up but I never made this mistake again. Here's to you Harold Walker!