One of those lazy Mondays when sometimes a song gets into my head and I’m full of the memories.  If I were a whole lot younger, this might be a confessional, but I’m not, so it’s just a memory.

I was a junior at Oklahoma State University in May 1966, and had a brand new silver Impala with white leather seats that I had gotten for my 20th birthday.  Probably for being a pretty good kid, making good grades, not causing problems.  I was actually embarrassed that my father had spent that much money on me, but he was pleased he could do it.  Not many of us had cars in 1966 so it was easy to find people to cruise with.

A popular movie a few years back was “Where the Boys Are,” which featured a group of college kids on spring break in Florida.  Spring Break wasn’t as much back then – I’m not even sure we got a week.  The idea of going somewhere was also pretty new to us – not an entitlement of youth.  Anyway, the title song hung around and we still had romantic visions of meeting a young Jim Hutton on a beach (at least he was the one I liked).

I’m not sure where the idea came from or how we suddenly became obsessed with going to the beach, but we did.  It wasn’t even the right time.  A bunch of us just decided that would be the coolest thing ever.  The closest beach was in Galveston, Texas, and there must have been a rumor of something happening there.  What were we thinking?  I’m not sure if we told our parents or just took off, but four of us left Stillwater after classes on Thursday and drove to Norman to pick up another friend at OU.  I’m not a drinker, so it’s a good thing I was driving my car, cool as it was.  We spent the night at someone’s apartment, meeting a bunch of guys there and everyone drinking beer before we fell asleep on the floor, couch, etc.  Did I also mention that I was engaged at the time and not looking for guys, just looking for a fun adventure.  In fact, we tried to get my fiance (future husband) to fly in from California where he was in the Navy and join us for the weekend.

We stopped in Dallas to find out that my guy couldn’t get there, visited the JFK Memorial and headed on to Galveston.  How many miles/hours was that?  We had the music blaring in the age before cell phones or even 8 tracks.  Just the radio and us.  And, we made it there.  We must have driven all night.

Nothing looked quite like the movies.  It was a dirtier beach than Florida and there were no people.  We had a motel room right there, but there were no people, much less college students.  But we were here.  On Saturday, we hit the water – it wasn’t even sunny.  And, suddenly, there was a group of guys.  They had cute southern accents and had come over from Monroe (pronounced MON roe) Louisiana.  Better than nothing.  We also befriended the lifeguard, who took this picture.

Galveston - May 1966

That night, the group drank and we danced, some of us on the table in the room.  It was pretty innocent, actually.  Very innocent, when I look back.  You’d think I’d remember more since I was the sober one, but it’s just a blur of silliness now.  Nobody ended up together, nobody did anything illegal.  Just kids meeting other kids for fun.  We didn’t make any stupid mistakes – maybe the movie taught us the consequences of that.

And, back to my point.  We drove back to school, arriving Monday in time for some of our classes.  As we drove, we kept hearing the Mamas and the Papas singing “Monday, Monday,” on that rainy Monday at the end of our big adventure.  Back to normal lives, finishing finals, planning my wedding.  The Louisiana guys came to see us, but it wasn’t quite the same.  Nice guys, but…

So, I randomly remember this trip when I hear that song.  When my own kids wanted to do things, I tried to remember what it was like to want to break out of the norm.  I tried to not worry since I had done the same with nothing bad happening.  Of course, I knew better and did worry.  I’m a Mom, after all.

I have to smile when I think of this really not so wild adventure.  It was still fun!  “Monday, Monday” always brings it back to me.