WINDOW PEEKERS Two of my best friends, when I was growing up, were girls. Their parents were pillars of the community and during the day they were daughters that any Mother or Father would be proud to claim. I don't know which one of my young friends came up with the activity that almost became an obsession with the three of us, but I recall thinking it was a wonderful idea. I would guess our age at old enough to know better and young enough to be ignorant of the fact that we were breaking the law. This after-dark pastime, which took precedence over homework, chores and healthier recreation, was "Window Peeking". We chose our victims with care. We didn't waste our time on friends or family because we knew what they did after dark. We knew the location of every back alley, streetlight and where the one local policeman was at all times. We spoke in whispers from the time we met until we parted. Even a muffled giggle was forbidden. Our biggest targets were teachers. One group of ladies resided in a basement apartment with small windows providing a view of every room. The occupants went about their business never knowing that every move they made was observed by the little devils they taught by day. One night one of the teachers paraded through the living room and kitchen clad in her bra and panties, and my friends said in unison, "Hide your eyes Morrie!" I thought, "You got to be joking, that's why I'm here." Suddenly, we heard their landlord in the driveway and thought we had been detected. We ran like deer, and as luck would have it, I tripped crossing a ditch and skinned my knee. My Mother observed this injury later and asked how it happened. In my deepest voice I said, "Playing football." This scare, and the fear of getting caught, curtailed our form of entertainment. I would like to publicly thank my girlfriends for making my youth a lot more interesting. This one is for you, Janice and Marilyn. �2002 Maurice D Karst |
