“Back when” I was the dating age life was very different than today. In spite of the different obstacles we had to overcome “love always finds a way.”

It was World War II and situations we faced didn’t compare to today, and it’s impossible for present young people to begin to relate to them.

Most young men (and very, very few girls) had no cars of their own and had to depend on the family car if it was available. (No, we didn’t use horse and buggies!)

Once a guy had talked Dad into using the car, he had to contend with the problem of gas rationing, older cars (no new ones to buy) and new tires not available to replace the old, worn ones.

Gasoline was cheap but rationed so the supply was limited to what ration stamps the government had issued for your car. Ration stamps and money were both scarce which limited our travels.

All of this did not stop young people from dating but kept them closer to home. This left Rushville and the Princess Theater a very popular destination. Saturday and Sunday night the theater had two shows each evening and each one was usually filled to capacity. If you weren’t on time for the first show you could find yourself waiting in the crowded vestibule until the first show let out. Then everyone made a mad dash to try the best seat. If you were too late you might end up in the small balcony. I suspicion some young lovers purposely chose those seats as they afforded a bit more privacy to do a little “smooching.”

Once in awhile a car load of young people would get together and venture to “the City” (Indianapolis to you) for a stage show at the Circle or Lyric theaters. This was in case we could pool enough gas stamps for the trip. A few tractor gas stamp helped out sometimes.

Stage shows were always the Big Bands we listened to on the radio and juke box. I saw Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, Guy Lombardo, Kay Kyser, Glen Miller, Sammy Kaye and others I can’t name.

I was lucky enough to see and hear Frank Sinatra singing with one of the Dorsey bands at just the beginning of his illustrious career. It was when the young girls were swooning and screaming over Frank. I was not really impressed as I thought he just looked like a skinny young kid then. Time proved these swooning, screaming young girls were right and I had to later change my opinion as he went on to stardom which lasted many years.

The war was a sad interruption for many young lovers. Every day young men were drafted into service for their country and had to leave girl friends behind. There was almost an epidemic of “quickie” marriages as young couples wanted a binding attachment to the ones they loved. As they bid them good-bye it sadly might be the last time they would see each other. These partings gave rise to such songs as “I’ll Never Smile Again” (until I smile at you and “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” (with anyone else but me). That’s just a couple of the many ones made popular by the war.

I’ve just written a general overview of the “back when” dating scene but there were lots of individual occasions which illustrate some of the problems dating couples encountered.

One which my now-husband and I experienced is an example of the difficulty we sometimes met up with. One such experience still brings a chuckle to me when I think about it. However, it wasn’t so funny then.

One sunny Sunday evening we decided a change of scenery would be nice so we went to the “big” town of Shelbyville in his old car with badly worn tires. We trusted it would surely get us as far as Shelbyville and back. About halfway there we had a flat tire. Much to my surprise Howard opened up the trunk filled with old tires he had salvaged from Caldwell’s junk yard in preparation for such event.

Checking his collection of old tires he chose one he thought would hold. After traveling a short distance, we felt the familiar bump, bump of another flat tire. Right then we decided we didn’t want to go to Shelbyville after all, so we turned around and headed on old tires and a prayer. (He did change to another of his old tires).

Changing tires is a dirty job so we stopped at a little ditch that goes under State Road 44 so he could wash his hands. That same culvert and ditch are still there and through the years when I travel hat road and drive across that little ditch I recall the night we couldn’t make it to Shelbyville because of flat tires. With a smile I just say a word of thanks for the good tires we travel on today. Time passes on!