Moms Will Be Moms, But Judy is Forever
May 13th, 2009 by Marilyn
{ A Mother’s Day tale }
In 1978 just three types of contraband existed for me and my pal Andie Lerner: shoplifted Bonne Bell makeup, those curious magazines in our brothers’ rooms, and Judy Blume’s teen sex novel, Forever. But I was a fearful eleven-year-old who declined the five-finger discount – and despite many examinations of our brothers’ covert reads, Andie and I weren’t quite clear on the attraction. Finally, though we’d heard the title whispered and wanted it desperately, we were not wise to the horizontal goods in Forever. We were not actually wise to anything.
We were clueless, but lucky – a copy was circulating in our math class by day, and pedaling home to bedrooms at night. The smudged paperback moved from desk to desk, and when Mrs. Endicott turned to the board, one girl would slide it to the palms of another, and before Endicott turned back, the deal was done. One fine day during fractions, the palms belonged to Andie. It was Friday afternoon, and our eyes locked in telegraphed plan: sleepover, toaster-oven snacks and a cover-to-cover inspection – no falling asleep like last time, Andie - of Forever.
Andie lived two houses down from our split-level, in a rambling old Tudor. Her family snacked on flax bread, and ate lentil soup in hand-thrown pottery crocks. Wide oak stairs led to a sunny living room crammed with macrame planters and art books and an enormous black Steinway, on which Andie’s dad would balance a glass of red wine and frequently bang out jazz. My own dad liked to browse tax law, so I found it all thrilling, right up to the day Mr. Lerner met a young woman and left the grand piano – and Mrs. Lerner – behind. Andie’s mom started wearing bangles and gauzy scarves and higher heels, and buying potato chips, and was never home. Mr. Lerner’s weakness had created a premier sleepover destination.
So it was in an empty house, in the sitting room that held just a sofabed and television, that we holed up with Forever. We meant business: sleeping bags, Twizzlers, root beer, at least a dozen pillows and a few of their Persian cats. The fridge revealed one package of cocktail franks, and I’d brought a can of Wiener Wrap – a kind of processed dough you wrapped and baked around hot dogs. We could bake them in the toaster oven. I could sprinkle them with cheddar, and was excited about that, about sprinkling cheddar on Wiener Wraps.
But first, Forever. We literally tore through it – me pulling, her pulling – until we finally took turns munching licorice and reading aloud, all about Kath and Michael, and what they were doing. But what were they doing? An hour later we’d read all the words, had a laugh – ha ha, he called his member Ralph – and while we knew what Judy Blume was saying, sex on a multicolor rug, we didn’t quite know what sex on a multicolor rug, or any rug, was supposed to mean.
We set the book aside and chugged root beer, and watched TV. They were showing Planet of the Apes, and we were mesmerized by the chimp makeup and funny lines. Charlton Heston was yelling. “I bet he never had sex on a multicolor rug!” Andie said. I pointed to Roddy McDowell’s ape. “Not him either!” I said. We howled and turned out the lights, and everything on TV was hilarious, and Forever fell to the floor. Eventually we heard a key turn, and a clack-clack down the hallway. “My mom,” Andie shrieked, “get the book!” I reached under the bed for the paperback but couldn’t find it, scrabbling. Mrs. Lerner poked her head in the dark room, then swept in all the way.
“You girls are stillll up,” she said.
“We’re going to sleep, Mom,” said Andie. Mrs. Lerner smelled like sandalwood, and swayed a little on her heels. Instead of leaving, she plunked down on the bed. I breathed in, but inched away. She leaned over. “What’s this?” In one floral-sleeved movement, she lifted the book from the carpet.
She took a flashlight from Andie. “What is it?” She shined a spot on the cover. “Oh ho,” she said, “oh yes I do see!” My lungs collapsed. I could run home, I thought, I could bang on the door and I could confess to having the book, but at least I’d be out of here.
Now Mrs. Lerner swung to face us. Andie and I huddled on the sofabed, toward the wall. She turned the flashlight off for a moment, then on again. Then pointed it at us. “So you got this. Okay. Okay. Just tell me one thing, ONE THING.” We held our breaths. “Was it good?”
Was it good. I looked at Andie, who was looking at me. Good? Her mom was still lurching. “Was. It. Good. Was it good for her the first time?”
Andie looked stricken. Neither of us had an inkling, but Mrs. Lerner’s wild-eyed look behind the light demanded an answer. So I gave her one.
“Oh yeah, it was great!”
She looked suspicious, pressed the book under her palm. “It was great. The first time.”
It seemed to be working, so I went on. “Yeah, fantastic! Everything was perfect!”
Mrs. Lerner clicked the flashlight off, and was silent for two minutes. I thought she might be asleep.
“Then it’s a LIE!” she yelled. I touched Andie’s arm. “If it was good for her then it is BULL.” She jumped to her feet, and yanked her beaded shawl. “All men are assholes,” she said, “and don’t you forget it.” She reached down, grabbed the book, and left.
Andie and I sat frozen for five minutes. Not until we heard shoes on wood, then shoes hit a wall upstairs, and finally the flump of a body in bed, did we finally start laughing, laughing so hard that root beer came out my nose. We did not discuss Kath and Michael, nor virgins or moms nor multicolor rugs. At two a.m. we went to the kitchen, preheated the toaster oven, and carefully wrapped pink cocktail franks in canned yellow dough. We sat on the brick floor in pajamas and tore open a bag of Oreos, giggling and crumb-faced, waiting for Wiener Wraps.
——————
* no illustration of Wiener Wraps; remember what happened last time?
ahhhh Judy Blume!
good times.
that story was ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC!
luckily both you and Andie seemed to take the news about all men being assholes quite well. my heart goes out to that poor mother – i wonder what happened to her?
Ralph!!!
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This post brought back so many memories! We did the exact same book pass in my 6th grade class. I remember being shocked that the adult author would know enough to use the word “balls”. It is almost quaint to remember how curious I was and how little I knew. Thanks for the throwback!
She can cook, she can write… my goodness.
Great post, thank you.
Admission. I never read this book. I don’t think it was even ever on my radar. “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret,” was the 4th grade “special” book at my school. What would youth do without Judy Blume.
Fun to see the budding culinary genuis you were (cheddar on wiener wraps!) I remember when I, too, was innocent enough not to make the heh heh connection between “Forever” and wiener wraps. Today, it makes me snort tea up my nose. Thanks for the smile.
Juicy indeed! It was a regulary Peyton Place in your neighborhood.
Boys usually aren’t this titillated by words. In my day, we gravitated towards Playboy and Hustler. My friends and I hid some old magazines inside a ditch culvert, which wasn’t the brightest idea because any rain storm soaked the pages.
I’m going to start bring my daughter over, and you can reenact the scene where Mrs. Lerner proclaims that “All men are assholes.” She needs to develop an awareness that men are usually dogs or worse.
Projectivist: maybe we weren’t clear on that term at the time, either. That would come later.
Jean: Ralph…short…snorting.
Dana: knew little, indeed!
DVSJR: welcome to Simmer, and thanks.
Carol: well, not sure the book would do you much good at this point! But Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret was huge for us, too.
Jennifer: welcome, my latte-drinking friend! All I can say is that Wiener Wraps seemed like the logical snack with Forever. And no, we didn’t get it.
muddywaters (Mike): I don’t think I can give Mrs. Lerner the proper effect – although now that I think about it, she was probably close to my age at that time. Yikes.
Marilyn, now how good are you! This was a wonderful post, wonderful!!
Great memories – WOW it has been a very long time since I thought about that book!! In fact you have just given me a great idea to send a copy to my niece!!
Excellent post! I don’t remember this Judy Blume. It was probably banned in my small-town bible-belt library. They did have My Darling, My Hamburger tho. And, yes, you made me look (the link to the wrapped wiener).
That you were frozen for only five minutes is amazing. I’m still frozen.
Ha! It’s a great moment in adolescence, and an absolutely marvelous depiction of that moment. This – the perfectly pitched characterization of the Lerner home versus yours, whose own characterization is utterly complete with the simple phrase, “browse tax law,” – is a masterful piece of writing. What a joy this is to find here. Moms will be moms. Thank Goodness, or what would writers do for material?
What a masterful and enjoyable trip down memory lane — LOVED it! Did your copy have the good bits underlined like ours did?
I love this post! I actually read that particular novel for the first time last year and I’m trying to remember what book we passed around in school and I just can’t think of anything. Probably we were too busy watching 90210. I know for me personally it was reading my mothers copies of Cosmo and the Scruples books that made my 12 year old eyes bug completely out of my head at the apparent demystification of sex in general.
what an awesome story! i didn’t have someone to share Forever with. but i do recall the middle of the night sneaking of the book and not fully understanding ANYTHING.
thanks for taking me down memory lane. this is still one of my fave judy blume books.
Oh Marilyn, you DO have a way with words. Thank you.
LOL @ Jean.
Theresa: my pleasure. Who knew Mrs. Lerner would still be rattling around in my brain after all that time?
Cathy: a copy to your niece. Maybe ask her mom first?
HPH: I remember My Darling, My Hamburger well. Such great young adult books then.
Marion: you’re too kind. My dad did in fact love to browse that tax law, and I’m happy to stay he stuck around for forty-five years. Thrilling = not always for the best.
Michelle: I think we were too skittish to underline anything. Plus, we never saw that copy again – she took it. Really!
Erin: Oh, Scruples – I remember those books of my mom’s well. I still have a dog-eared paperback called “Flame and the Flower” that was like treasure to me. Plenty of of bodices and throbbing manhood.
Lan: welcome! Yes, not understanding anything, I think, is key to that early enjoyment. If you understand it, how exciting can it be?
Jenni: I think you named a different favorite Judy book – what was it?
Oh, how I love love love this. I especially love your “It was great!” Fabulous; my whole day is better.
My fav Judy Blumes would be the “Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing” series.
My sister and I even named our Hamsters… Tootsie and Fudge.
I read “Forever” in the Library. It did not make it home. I remember THAT cover well.
“Are you there God….” was life changing. OMG, was it ever.
I think I’m so close to Judy Blume’s age that she would have had to have completed her career by about 25 for me to have read her books! Nevertheless, I loved your post. But actually, she has been in the news a lot lately, for soliciting donations for Planned Parenthood on Mother’s Day. A lot of people are mad, and a lot are in “you go, girl!” mode. Here is one version of events:
http://jezebel.com/5244032/judy-blumes-planned-parenthood-letter-enrages-pro+lifers
What happened to Andie Lerner’s mom? Did she ever find happiness again? Tell us the rest of the story!
Yours truly,
Hopeless Sap
I never read “Forever.” I remember wanting to but never got my hands on a copy. A friend and I did read some nasty sex book on the bus probably in junior high. It was no Judy Blume book that’s for sure! (It really grossed us out.) We also used to find her dad’s magazines hiding in his closet. You know my grandmother used to babysit Hugh Hefner and his brother, right?
This is so funny! I remember a similar copy of the book making the rounds in my school, and skipping ahead to the naughty parts, which we then didn’t understand. Priceless. Thanks for bringing back the memories!
Damn, I totally missed out on this one. Is it too late to read it?
I did however, read “…Margaret” a thousand times, wishing I would one day be lucky enough to get my period. I also knew every word to the under-appreciated “Starring Sally J. Friedman, as Herself.” I guess WWII plots aren’t as popular as sex and menstruation.
I am just picturing you making weiner wraps.
That is so funny. Whatever happened to Andie and her be-bangled mom?
really great story!
Ooooh did I love reading that book. But what I learned, (or remember learning) was that aftershave stings the balls.
i actually just read forever last year and thought it was amazing. i also did a book report on it. this book cracked me up at a few parts.
You’re a good writer, kid. Jumped online this Saturday morn looking for a pumpkin dog biscuit recipe, nothing more. “You’re just going to get the recipe and get out.” Found a good one on Amy’s blog, Simply Sugar & Gluten Free, where she credits you and adds,
“If you haven’t been to Marilyn’s blog, simmer till done, it’s a must. She is a true artist – and her blog always calms me right down. It’s as if I’m sitting in her kitchen with a warm cup of really good coffee, just watching her cook and soaking up everything she knows.”
http://simplysugarandglutenfree.com/gluten-free-pumpkin-dog-biscuits/
(20 Oct 2009)
Finding your story memory was a delightful reward that, hrmh, reinforced something other than efficient, self-disciplined internet use. Write on!