No. 139 – I Know There’s Something Going On

Performer: Frida

Songwriter: Russ Ballard

Original Release: Something’s Going On

Year: 1982

Definitive Version: None. When Phil Collins was on Late Night with David Letterman for the first time, as the show went to commercial, he and Paul Shaffer’s band broke into an instrumental version of this song, on which PC played drums. That was pretty cool.

As I mentioned a while back, Dad and Laura not only acknowledged that Beth and I were sleeping together by the summer of 1986, but they also actually encouraged it. Well, “encouraged” isn’t the right word, but let’s just say they certainly weren’t actively preventing it.

When they weren’t providing cover for our weekend trips—one to Put-in-Bay in 1985 (good ol’ No. 432), one to Cincinnati in 1986—they were having Beth housesit their otherwise-empty house, well aware as to the shenanigans that did in fact ensue. So it was no surprise when we went to Torch Lake that summer that no one bothered with the pretense of separating us.

Previously, all trips to Torch Lake meant Beth either slept with Jin under a completely different roof (1983, 1984) or at least a different part of the Big House (1985). But in 1986, all the grown-up kids were out on the sleep porch, because Matt was in the other back bedroom.

Apparently, there was no concern that Beth and I would do anything more than actually sleep together, because Jin and Scott also were out on the sleep porch, too. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall that Beth and I even did anything that weekend, although I’d have to think we figured something out (unless it just happened to be her time of the month, which was possible).

That said, Beth and I still took advantage of the situation as best we could. The sleep porch at the Big House, besides being almost all windows, like a cold dorm, had four beds—two that could be made bunks and two that were twins. Jin and Scott got the bunk beds, which were bunked that summer.

Beth and I got the twins, and there was no question but that we would push the beds together. This ain’t the Dick Van Dyke Show, you know. We moved the bedside table that was in between, took queen sheets and fashioned a workable double bed.

That was a practical solution for cuddling but not really sleeping. The crack between the beds—the frames made it so the mattresses didn’t push together all the way—formed so if you layed the right way, you’d slide into the gap. (And in case there was any doubt, I was the one doing the gap-sliding.)

However, we made one concession to modesty. Although they usually weren't needed, the sleep porch in the Big House had curtains that pulled around the side and front windows. I never used them, because the sleep porch had a dressing area that was behind a wall. If you pulled the door to the rest of the Big House open, you had an enclosed area in which to change.

Well, Dad said we had to pull the curtains closed around the side and front to conceal the combined beds from the prying eyes of my grandparents. Yes, they knew something was going on—they weren’t stupid, as I noted before—but out of sight, out of mind.

Fair enough. We pulled the curtains. It was a small price to pay for me and Beth being able to act as though we were married. And considering that we didn’t have much or perhaps even ANY sex that weekend meant we DID act as though we were married.