My class went to lunch Saturday.  For fun, everyone told something about themselves that nobody there had ever heard.  When it was my turn, I told about my first kiss.  I was in the eight grade, it was lunch time in the cafeteria on Friday, when one of my friends, Jerry, said, "I've got a big problem!  I'm taking Suzie (name changed) to the Saturday matinee movie tomorrow, and I think I might want to kiss her.  But I haven't ever kissed a girl before."  And then he asked for my help, "Could you show me how to kiss someone--I don't want to look stupid."

Of course, I had never kissed anyone either!  I was totally untrained in the art of kissing anything but my dog--but I for sure didn't want to look ignorant.  I had seen a few Roy Rogers and Gene Autry movies--where the boy kissed the girl.  So I acted like I knew what I was doing, and kissed him.  No, I didn't tell anyone.  My mom would have killed me.

Flash forward fifty some years later at my high school's reunion.  We were all telling stories about our escapades from when we were young.  All my girlfriends from school were at the table swapping stories, so I told the story about Jerry wanting me to show him how to kiss a girl--that he didn't know how.  Judy squealed, "That's what he told me, too."  Then Ginger, then Sue, then Mary Ann, and on and on.  Seems like we all had taught Jerry how to kiss a girl.  Fourteen year old girls are pretty dumb.  At last count there were a bunch of us.

Jerry ended up being a preacher.  Baptist.  He was already trained from the scriptures in, "Greet one another with a holy kiss."  Romans 16:16

I don't know how holy those eighth grade kisses were.  He had a racket going on.