2019 ……. not daylight yet and real cold and windy outside. Even in south Florida, it gets this way from time to time. Got the coffee perking but I’ve got to walk down the driveway and bring in the newspapers. I’m still not dressed but it’s not that far and ……… I’ve been there before.
1955 …….. A jockstrap is kind of like a cheap garter belt with no hooks and a pouch in front. Little boys are told to start wearing them about the same time little girls start to wear training bras.
My first jockstrap came complete with a front pocket and slip-in plastic cup to protect my – well you know, let’s just call it my “OOs&====o”. I was an eleven-year-old Little League baseball catcher and Bob Grafton, my coach, told my Daddy to get me one. I got my second jockstrap in 1952 at Conniston Jr. High for football. I was the only 7th grader on the team. Nobody cared whether I had one or not and I wondered why this one didn’t have a cup? For the first few weeks, I never took it off in the locker room! I even wore it into the showers after practice so that Buddy Blount, Abner Bigbie, and all of the other big guys couldn’t see that I didn’t have any hair on my “OOs&=o”. (it shrinks way down in a cold shower!)
By the time I got to 9th grade a number of things had changed. 1) I was now one of the big guys. 2) I had a Miami Herald paper route. 3) I had a Sears Roebuck Allstate (Vespa) motor scooter. and 4) I had drawers full of long-sleeved orlon sweaters, cotton tee-shirts, white wool athletic socks, and a collection of old worn-out jockstraps. Oh! and the hair problem had taken care of itself.
Now, let me interject a list of facts and seemingly worthless assumptions and hypotheses:
The early morning temperature in West Palm Beach is pleasant 350 +/- days a year.
The early morning temperature in West Palm Beach is not pleasant 15 +/- days a year.
Boys raised in south Florida do not own gloves, mittens, heavy jackets, or and most importantly, ………. earmuffs.
Four or five layers of mixed tee shirts and long-sleeved light orlon sweaters can substitute for a heavy jacket.
A couple of white wool athletic socks on each hand can substitute for gloves or mittens.
The elastic waistband of an old BIKE jockstrap, after it has been washed repeatedly for two or three years, shrinks to about the size of a tight headband. The jockstrap pouch, however, tends to remain unchanged. Need I explain what, with a little strategic positioning and total lack of fashion consciousness, can be substituted for earmuffs?
The morning was extremely cold and I had dressed accordingly. After rolling my newspapers with Howard Shaw and his father while sitting on the sidewalk in front of Lovett’s Supermarket (later to become the Outdoor Store) on South Dixie Highway, I loaded my motor scooter to start my rounds. Howard only had a bicycle and a much larger route than I did so his father often helped him with his deliveries using the family car, especially on Sundays and days as cold as this one.
I loved the early morning hours. No traffic, Alfar milkmen making their deliveries, the smoke coming from Toffer’s Bar-B-Q at Greenwood and Dixie, and closer to home, the wonderful smells from the ovens in Sam Smith’s bakery.
Many of the streets in this part of town caused me to go back in time five or so years when I was at Southboro Elementary. That was where I first started dating girls and, until then, had only heard rumors about the grown-up things in life. I cruised down Greymon Dr. past Patsy Stephens’s house, tossing papers over hedges and into driveways. Patsy was a real hottie – 3rd grade, my place on our first date, numerous hotels, scantily clad participants, big money, a race car, and even jail time involved. Every minute was a roll of the dice and things could have gotten out of hand, ….. it was good that we split up when we did!
The wind was picking up and it was getting colder. Soon I was turning west off Washington Rd. and on to Monroe Dr. More memories as I passed 204 ……. Martha Odom’s house ………. 5th grade, I had wheels, she had great legs, short pleated skirts, nightlife, bodily contact and action with other couples. Those were the good old days!
Around 6:30 I had finished my route and was headed home. By now the sky was showing signs of first light and the chill had permeated my orlon sweaters and cotton tee shirts. I was starting to shiver. As I pulled up to stop for a red light on Dixie at Southern Blvd. my fingers were so numb under my sock mittens that I could hardly squeeze the hand brakes. Waiting southbound on the right hand side of the intersection, it was painfully evident that within my makeshift foul weather wardrobe only my trusty athletic supporter earmuffs had not failed me. The icy wind, now quartering out of the northwest, was blocked not only by the tight elastic band covering my ears but, also, by the jockstrap pouch, now firmly anchored over my right cheek with the leg straps woven around my neck and chin and a spare sock stuffed inside the pouch for added warmth.
With time to think, I was reflecting on why Mr. Shaw, Howard’s father, had recently begun to repeatedly refer to me as “Dick Head” when I was certain he knew my real name? Probably just a memory lapse, you know how it is with old men.
Funny, how you sense things before they happen. I saw the car pull up beside me on my left and, out of the corner of my eye, saw it was a big white Cadillac. I could feel myself being sized up by whoever was on the passenger side. My unknown observer could see only my left profile but, what with the multi-colored, ill-suited, and misplaced assortment of clothing and socks, I was quite the sight! I’m sure that the image I was projecting was, at best, that of some low budget yard sale on wheels .
The car window rolled down and with a squawk like female accent that I had become all too familiar with; the silence was broken.
“Is this the right way to Me am me…..dah link?”
Why I hesitated for a moment, I’m not sure. I guess I was asking myself for the umpteenth time: “just how lung is this Lung Island?” Finally, I raised my sock covered right hand and pointed south. Then, very slowly and with a demoniac smile, turned to face this lady from New York. As I did so, the sock stuffed pouch on my jockstrap earmuffs came into full view hanging off my cheek on the right side of my face.
Wide-eyed and staring at me and my facial adornment, she gasped and her mouth dropped open!
“Yes ma’am this is US #1. That’s how you get there ……..just keep on going.”
The Cadillac sped-off before the light turned green!
Jim Powell
Acknowledgements:
Parker Brother Inc. for the Monopoly board game played on our screened front porch at 368 Pilgrim Rd. by Patsy Stephens, my mother, myself and my father. Daddy was clad only in his boxer underwear. Doctor Stephens had dropped his daughter off that Sunday afternoon for what turned out to be the first date either of us ever had.
Gayety Skating Rink for providing rental shoe skates and allowing me to spend magical Friday evenings roller-skating with Martha Odom in her cute little skating outfits. Martha was my first “steady girlfriend”.
Jim Powell along with his family, friends, and classmates 
Oh my gosh! The things you remember. I just hope you warn your “ girlfriends” before publication.
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The memories of playing Monopoly with you and your father were interesting. Your Dad sat there in his underwear and I will always remember that day. Thank you Jimmy for all the good memories.
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