My sister is five years older than I, and Cousin Millie, six years senior, so I was not an overly welcome companion to them. Every summer my parents would take the three of us for a week's stay in one of the cabins at Kowaliga Beach on Lake Martin. This particular summer, 1960, Diane and Millie were twelve and thirteen-going on twenty-four and twenty-five-and were operating under the mistaken impression that they had grown shapely and boys would find them attractive. (I say this entirely from an eight-year-old's point of view.)

About a quarter of a mile down the dirt road from our cabin was the marina office and store. We had always walked down there to buy Cokes and snacks and just to look around at the boats and stuff. But this time Diane and Millie both spent an hour primping and, I suspect, stuffing their pseudo-bras with Kleenex before we could begin our walk.

Diane's blonde hair looked like Sandra Dee's worst nightmare with enough teasing and hairspray to make her head look four times too big for her body. Millie, on the other hand, had gone with the French twist and had her chestnut locks pinned into a precarious heap on the back of her head.

I rolled my eyes back into my head so many times it's a wonder they didn't get stuck there. It took an eternity to get to the store: Diane having to re-insert loose pins and stray hairs for Millie, and Millie having to remove the trapped gnats and mosquitoes from Diane's Venus Flytrap-do. But at last we arrived, and the girls had hit paydirt!

Three sandy-haired, surfer-type guys were congregated around the vending machine and they all three looked up when the two Miss America wanna-bes made their entrance. Lord knows, it couldn't have had a thing to do with the absolute swarm of insects that the girls' hairspray and perfume had attracted by now. Those two females just knew they were gorgeous!

We each purchased drinks and chips then exited the opposite doorway that led directly to the boat docks. We walked slowly down the wooden plankway, me eying every boat we passed and the other two giggling and whispering.

Suddenly a long low whistle sounded from the store area. Diane and Millie practically bowled each other over trying to "casually" turn around far enough to see the identity of their admirer. No one was in sight.

Perplexed, they ambled about coyly, watching the doorway in furtive glances as we strolled the remainder of the dock. The whistle sounded again. The girls shivered excitedly and this time craned openly to see who their admirer could be. Still not a soul in sight.