This morning on FirstNews, we had two stories about prom season being here. One had to do with keeping young people safe with after-prom parties. As a father of teenagers, I am all for that...too many sad stories come out of what should be a great night of fun. The other had to do with a high school out east doing background checks on the some of "dates" coming to the dance who were not students at the school. After that piece, Jere Gish turned to me and asked "Your kids are in that prom age group, how would you feel about background checks?" At first I thought he meant the background check being done on my kids' dates. But, now that I think about it, it's obvious he assumed the check would be run on my own kids. Well, as long it doesn't include sins of the father, I'm okay with it. Frankly, I was so overcome with emotion by this time in the show...feeling the pain of never even going to prom those many years ago...that I'm not sure what Jere was driving at. I do know he seemed to enjoy putting the salt of sad memories into my long lost prom-inflicted wound. (Now, there's a sentence you'll never see on Larry Moore's page and probably shouldn't have seen here, either.)

I never went to prom. I tried, once. There was a girl in high school that I thought was funny, smart and cute. She looked a little like Marie Osmond. This was during the heyday of Donny & Marie. Sometimes we'd sing duets "I'm a little bit country....I'm a little bit rock and roll." (And, right now, I'm a little bit nauseated just thinking about it.) She had always insisted that her father wouldn't let her go out on dates. It seemed a reasonable excuse to me. Then, again, I was in my late twenties before I was given the cold hard facts about the tooth fairy, which I still don't quite accept.

Remember, these were the days before prom got so "big-ticket." No limo...you borrowed your parents' Buick, Ford or Chevy, which you better bring back with gas in the tank. No tuxedo...you just made sure your Sunday suit was not all scrunched up in a ball on the closet floor. Maybe you went out to eat at Stub Lang's Diner (that was the spot kids could afford in my home-town.) You'd buy a corsage at Eileen's Flower Shop and call it a date. Well, I decided to ask "Marie" to attend and do so with a little panache.

I walked across the street to our neighborhood Avon Lady's house. She was and is the best in the business. She'd sold so much Avon stuff for so long, that she didn't even need to ring the doorbell. You'd just sense that she was there, on your front porch, ready to take your order. Eventually, everyone just called her to get the commemorative after-shave decanter shaped like a barber pole or industrial strength Care Deeply for chapped lips. Well, I bought a little pin shaped like a lady-bug from the Avon Jewelry Collection.

As I approached "Marie" in the hallway at school the next day, I felt confident. She was surrounded by her friends but I was brash and didn't hesitate. "Here...this is for you," I said as I handed her the carefully wrapped box. "Maybe you can wear it to prom." "Thank you so much. It is really pretty...and I will wear it to prom. But how did you know Chuckie had asked me? I just now said I could go..." replied "Marie."

I laughed knowingly and went to class. I also vowed never to watch Donny and Marie again. Years later, when I interviewed the Osmonds, I actually accused Marie of hurting my feelings by not going to prom with me. The last thing I remember of the interview is a rush of giant white teeth and being landed on by all of her brothers. True entertainers, they were singing as they tackled me.

The night of my prom I stayed home and looked up the word in the dictionary. It comes from the word promenade which among its various definitions has "formal ball." Another meaning is "leisurely walk" which is what I took from the couch to the kitchen to the TV to the couch, again. So, in a way I attended a prom-enade. Oh, if you're wondering about the title of this story: Some friends asked if I wanted to go to the dance, anyway, as a group of loser guys without dates. I declined because all I could think of was Barney Fife telling Andy he wasn't going to go stand in some stag line with a bunch of teen-age boys and old man Schwump. Looking back, maybe Mr. Schwump is the true patron saint of proms. He never lost hope!