A LOST ART

Handholding, that is. It used to mean so much. If you were holding a girl's hand, it meant you were in like. Not in love. Not yet. But it was reassuring that there were some definite vibes.

"I Wanna Hold Your Hand," the first of the great Beatle songs, now seems extremely passe. But holding hands and sitting next to the driver in the old car bench seats were two signs that "we gotta a groovy thing going". And even when bucket seats became fashionable, the young woman straddled the console to sit close to the driver. Seat belts? Naugh. Not when "Love was in the air".

At the movies, walking down the halls at school, sitting in the same room as one's parents, even in church were all good times to hold hands. It was a way of showing affection as well as domain. At football games I remember holding hands with a gloved girl, and my hands without gloves on were almost always warmer than hers.

I don't know what that says about me. But holding hands would reveal clammy hands (the worst kind), small hands, soft hands, perfumey hands, boney knuckled hands, or gripped hands when fear arose.

I guess a cold or two were spread holding hands. But they were always worth it.