By Jim Hagarty
Today is National Kissing Day. I am afraid it might go completely by without anyone enjoying the experience of my having kissed them.
Fifty years ago, every day was National Kissing Day. Our one and only goal was to find girls who would actually allow us to kiss them. Many were passive participants in the activity but once in a while, a girl would show a little enthusiasm and that was a good day. A fella could ride around on his tractor for a week, smiling ear to ear, just remembering that kiss.
Later, of course, there were other joys to discover but nothing matched that first kiss or, for that matter, any one of the first 500.
A kiss could be delivered and received, no muss, no fuss, almost anywhere and almost in an instant.
And a boy was most impressed by the idea that a girl would actually appear to want to go along with this. Or at the very least, was willing to allow it.
That was the most amazing part.
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Author: Jim Hagarty
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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