When I was a kid, my parents were longstanding members of the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Society. My mom was even a past president, as was her father before her, so for what it’s worth, my family’s light operetta roots run deep. You know who else was a big G&S fan? Isaac Asimov.
So let me set the scene. It’s the late 1970’s, and there’s some big event, possibly the 50th anniversary party of the Society. Isaac is in attendance, and although my parents were never close friends of his, I know they greatly respected his writing, so my dad thought it would be a nice thing to have a photo of his kids with the famous science fiction author.
I was about eleven years old. My dad arranged me and my two younger brothers on either side of him, and backed up to get the shot. As Dad instructed us all to smile, I felt a hand grab my buttock and lightly squeeze. I was in shock! Had Mr. Asimov’s hand accidentally slipped downwards? How embarrassing for him! My childish brain didn’t know what to make of it, and before I could say anything or even react, the photo shoot was over, and my parents closed in for some grownup small talk with him about Ruddigore or something while my brothers and I wandered off, probably to a snack table.
For many years, I dined out on this story as an amusing anecdote from my childhood. Wasn’t it funny, the time when that randy old genius Isaac Asimov put his hand on my bum. Ha ha! Of course, it was a different time back then (as today’s old lecherous men fall all over themselves to explain). And I certainly wasn’t emotionally scarred. I recall being mildly confused, and that was the end of it.
But through the lens of the current time, and now that I have a daughter about the same age as I was then, can I just say: what the fuck? First of all, how dare a man feel entitled to take a squeeze of whatever body part of a female happened to be nearby, knowing there would be no repercussions? Second of all, please remember I was ELEVEN. Did Asimov have a thing for prepubescent girls? I actually doubt it, I think it was almost unconscious. You take a photo with a fan, you get a little squeeze in, that’s just the way it goes.
I’d like to think the libertine no-holds-barred world of the 1970’s has changed in the intervening years. Certainly, there have been enough scandals about celebrity men touching fans inappropriately that some men now make a point of holding their hands up as a photo is snapped. Nothing to see here, move along. But I suspect that plenty of this sort of thing goes on, same as it ever has. I will say this: I no longer think my little story about my childhood photo with Asmov is “cute.”
Sadly, the photo itself is lost to the mists of time. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever remember seeing it printed. For all I know, my dad forgot to get that roll of film developed.