Kitselman’s birthday

Skinny as a rail; perhaps 90 pounds. At Lenape amusement-park (defunct). (Long-ago [1962] photo by BobbaLew.)

(At the rate things are going, this blog may not get published until tomorrow night, or the day after that.)

—Today’s the day, August 12th: Gail Kitselman’s birthday. If she’s still alive (I don’t think she is; see below), she’s 73. She’s Class of ’64 at Brandywine High-School. I was ’62, which makes me 75.
Gail was my first “girlfriend” (?), but not the first girl I dated. That would be ***** ***********, also Class of ’64 at Brandywine.
Gail and ***** are both at the instigation of my sister, also Class of ’64. My sister died almost eight years ago. She’s slightly younger than me; I’m first-born of seven, four of which remain.
Twice I blogged Gail’s birthday, first in 2014, then again last year. Usually her birthday passes unnoticed.
Both Gail and ***** were unsuited for me, messed up as I was from my tortured childhood. The one I married was very well suited, since she also had a difficult childhood.
Except that put off escaping my childhood. So now, 50 years late, I find women attracted to me. And they no longer have to make me feel worthwhile.
Gail’s mother thought I was wonderful. I guess I was Gail’s first boyfriend.
Her father, a high-powered executive, thought me a waste. “He’ll never amount to anything;” and I didn’t.
After graduating high-school, and before college, I’d pedal my stripped balloon-tire bicycle about four miles to her house. We’d talk outside on her porch into darkness.
Gail’s mother would give me the keys to their ’58 Plymouth, so I could take Gail to an outdoor ice cream stand. Often her mother took me home, my bicycle in the trunk. It was too dark for me to ride home.
I managed two “dates” with Gail. One was a day-long retreat to Ocean City, NJ with my church youth-group. The other was a visit to an amusement park (pictured above) in southeastern PA. That amusement park soon failed.
My sister was thrilled to see me and Gail strolling hand-in-hand on Ocean City’s boardwalk at dusk. At last “Bobby” was getting the hang of it. My sister was on her second steady boyfriend, the one who ended up being her first marriage and divorce. (Four marriages for her; me only once.)
I lost track of Gail. ***** is a Facebook “friend.” That was her doing, not mine.
I visited Gail at Brandywine during my first year at college. She wanted to move on. I was too messed up, and we were 365 miles apart.
The other day I Google-imaged Gail, and I think I found her. Amazing; almost 330 million people in our nation, and “that looks like her.”
Apparently she never married, and found religion. My hit was the same as that of a Facebook “friend” back in 2014. —Gail Kitselman at some New York City church, Director of Volunteer Ministries.
It said she died, and her church was devastated. There also was something about Gail lifeguarding at a Cape May, NJ beach. That sounds like Gail, much more athletic than me.
Her caring about people also sounded like Gail.
A Google-search said her birthday was January 1st, 1946. That’s not August 12th, but it sure looks like her. Same eyes, and same smile.
I always consider the first two girls I dated to be extraordinary. They weren’t el-cheapo.
A third girl I dated around then was forgettable. A trollop. I could tell stories.
Thank goodness for the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations. It kept me pure through ignorance.

• My beloved wife, the BEST friend I ever had, is also gone. She died over seven years ago.
• “Brandywine” is Brandywine High School, north of Wilmington, DE; from where I graduated in 1962.