The "I Thought I Had It Bad Until..." Story

It was an ordinary day.  Talking with my brother Steve about our childhood and some of the things we had to endure while growing up on North Queen Street in Lancaster, PA.  I am five years older than my brother with much more wisdom, but he has the good looks and at least 50 pounds of muscle and a couple inches in height on me.  One thing we did have in common while growing up was a mom and dad who thought we should both have lessons in socialization, manners and etiquette.  When I entered 6th grade mom and dad became part of a group of parents that established a dance club that would their children get together once a month on a Friday evening to dance and socialize.  As I remember there were about eight girls and eight boys in the club.  It was decided that we would begin in September with the first dance which would be held at the child's home based on alphabetical order of our last name, meaning my parents would sponsor the dance last since my last name was Woods.  Lucky for me that one of the other kids in the club was the girl in my class that lived a block away from me whom I walked to school with every day and who was my sweetheart, although she didn't know it!  We danced and socialized every month that school year and if I remember correctly, I hated almost every minute of it.  

The Iris Club on North Duke Street where Steve danced.

But as bad as that might have been for me, my brother had it twice as bad.  Nah, make that three times as bad!  Mom signed him up for a dance club called Junior Cotillion which was held monthly, all year long, at the Iris Club in downtown Lancaster.  The Iris Club is located in an 1895 Victorian home that has a quiet elegance to it.  The second floor has a large ballroom for holding parties and dances.  Steve began his lessons in socializing, manners and etiquette as a 7th grade teenager.  Hated it even more than I did!  He had to wear a black suit with white shirt and black tie.  

Cotillion white gloves such as Steve wore to dance.

Had to make sure his shoes were polished every month before he went to Cotillion. But, the piece de resistance of his outfit was the white gloves he had to wear to greet the girls who sat on one side of the ballroom while the boys sat on the other side.  And, he had to do this every month for a whole year; two hours on a Friday evening.  Now, I was a junior in high school at the time so I made sure I always told him how nice he looked when he left for Junior Cotillion.  I'm sure he hated it and was embarrassed beyond comprehension.  If I remember correctly, he happened to be sick a time or two, or even three during the year when Junior Cotillion was held.  There are many things that Steve and I have forgotten from our childhood, but being sent to dance club and cotillion will stick in our memories until we die.  I can promise you that!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.