This afternoon I was reminded of an experience I had as a camp counselor at Ramah in 1986. Now there were only 200 people or so on staff, so you can try and figure out who I am. Of course you’d have to know which one of the Ramah’s I attended to do so.
Anyway, I was working with boys and naturally they were interested in the girls. These were preteen boys, so some of them were not real sure what to do about the girls because their hormones had not quite kicked in, or had done so and made them completely meshugah.
One of my boys had a major crush on one of the girls and would talk about her and his dreams of making her his girlfriend. Every day he’d speak of his desire and my fellow counselors would provide counseling about women. And at the ripe age of 17, I knew plenty.
I knew so much about women I could have written a book on it. It would have had 3 chapters consisting of about 6 pages each. More on that at a different time.
One day this boy found the courage to take her aside and spent some “time” with her. Apparently the time alone paid off and he returned to us with a look of dreamy satisfaction. We were curious, so we asked him to tell us what had happened.
He said, “it wasn’t sex, it was a kiss.” One of the other counselors asked him “Was it a French kiss?
With a look of exasperation he replied “No! It was American.”
On a side note I wonder to myself, what do the French call a “French Kiss” and what is the origin of this term?
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