The Gambling Heart

In the years before I became a gambler, I would go to the dances near my home. They were held weekly at my high school, in fire halls, community halls and wherever else people would gather.

If the dances were close enough, I would walk to them, sometimes by myself, other times with my brothers or friends.

If you were lucky enough to have a car, you could park outside the dance hall where you would listen to the music and see the girls who entered.

You would watch for your favorites, the class beauties like Shirley Aronkes, Donna Fox or Christine.

They would be well dressed with flowers in their hair and wearing their favorite exotic perfume.

About an hour after the dance started, I would make sure my hair was well combed, exit the e-car, and buy my ticket.

The dance hall would be darkly air conditioned with a mingling of aromas -- perfumes, men's colognes, and after shave lotion.

Some of the more popular girls would already be with their escorts for the evening. Others would be mingling with their friends in a corner of the room or sipping punch…

…waiting for the right person to ask them to dance.

I would stand there, shrinking inside and trying to act cool.

There were certain songs that had a label, slow dance songs like "Earth Angel” by the Penguins, "Teach Me Tonight" by the DeCastro Sisters, or anything by Joni James. If one of these songs started playing, I would seek out whoever was available and ask her to dance.

Rarely would I reveal who my favorite was but my secret heart was set on Shirley.

She was a beauty with a heart-shaped face and a fast smile. She was dating Ron Tumbrey, the high school quarterback whose father owned a used car lot. Ron drove a car, one of the few seniors who owned one, and it was easy to see why Shirley preferred him to any of the other seniors who were pursuing her.

During my high school years, I was shy when it came to girls.

I wouldn't overcome my shyness until a year of college was under my belt. By then Shirley would have been involved in a terrible car accident that disfigured her face and changed her looks to the point that I didn't recognize her.

It was sad.

After a year of studying journalism at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, PA., I returned home and went to a dance at the Buena Vista Fire Hall. While sipping punch and standing in a corner, I was approached by a girl.

She had a long vaguely familiar face and she said, "Do you remember me?"

I tried to make her out but couldn't. I admitted I didn't know who she was.

"I'm Shirley Aronkes," she said. "I used to date Ron Tumbrey."

After the dance one of my younger brothers told me what had happened to her. The knowledge was beyond painful. She had been such a beauty.

I left Pennsylvania, moved out West, became a journalist and a gambler. From time to time I would return to my home town. The dances changed along with the slow music. My tastes changed.

Life doesn't wait for you to catch up.

In my senior year, I remember one of the last dances I went to.

A friend named Jim Welch was driving and my buddy Lynley Hileman and I piled into his car. He was planning to drive us to a dance in Rostraver Township. I wanted to sit next to the window, my favorite place, but Lynley beat me to it and I had to sit between the two of them.

While we were driving, Welch took his eyes off the road. The next thing I knew…

…I was walking in a dazed circle carrying my blood-stained coat and wondering where my friends were.

Police officers were there along with patrol cars with bright lights flashing. We had crashed into a tree. Jim's face was mashed, he had lost his teeth, and Lynley had suffered a severely shattered broken leg. I had escaped with a bump to my head.

Life really is a gamble, isn't it?