I baby-sat for a go-go dancer's three kids when I was a young girl. I think her name was Tina and her husband's name was Rick. One Saturday afternoon, Rick was driving around the neighborhood and saw a group of us young girls on the street. He stopped and asked if anyone wanted to baby sit that night. I jumped at the chance to earn $1 an hour and quickly said yes. THEN, I asked my mother.
I didn't know this guy from Adam so I had to do a lot of fast talking with a lot of wheedling and begging thrown in, but my mother finally gave in. I was to be at their house on the next street at 6:30pm. When I arrived at the big, roomy, old house, Rick let me in. He was all dressed up in a jacket and tie. He smelled strongly of aftershave and his hair was slicked back in a smarmy, Elvis kind of way. He showed me around the house and told me a little about the kids. The oldest was about 8, the middle one about 5 and the baby was 3 years old. The kids, already in their pajamas, paid no attention to me whatsoever and continued to eat their Spaghettios at the kitchen table.
Tina was in the bedroom getting all dolled up for work and after about 20 minutes of sitting on the worn, green couch, making inane small talk with Rick about the kids, she breezed out into the living room to wow us with her sparkles and fringe. Her hair was a long, straight, and blonde wig. Her heavily made up eyes were works of art with bright blue eye shadow, heavy liner and false eyelashes. The sleeveless mini dress she wore was all silver fringe and she wore short white go-go boots to complete the outfit. I had never seen anyone dressed so spectacularly before in my whole life. She was gorgeous!
I couldn't keep my eyes off her as she gave me a few last minute instructions for the children. Soon it was time for them to leave and Rick gallantly held the front door open for her. He hurried down the steps to the passenger side of the huge, old station wagon and and helped her in, closing the door securely. She was precious cargo.
The little one started to fuss because his mama was leaving, so I picked him up still awestruck at what I'd just seen. Holding the baby on my thirteen-year-old hip, I stood at the open front door and watched the red tail lights all the way down the street as Rick and Tina, the beautiful people, rode off into the glamorous, Saturday night world of bright lights in small town, Michigan show business.
Monday, June 30, 2008
mascara and the church picnic
Kathy Butte was another blonde friend of mine but think party-down Ellie May, not Cheryl Tiegs. I invited her to go on an outing with our church on a Saturday for a picnic to a park some distance away. There were a bus ride and boys included so we were glad to be going.
I waited for her at the corner like we'd arranged but she never showed up. It was getting late so I walked the several blocks to her house. When I got to the door, I heard shouting and something about,
"If I can't wear it then I'm just not going."
I knocked and as Mrs Butte let me in she yelled back to my friend,
"Kathy, she's here. If you're going, go!'
Even though I'd never been in her house before, I made my way to Kathy's room by following the shouting. Kathy was dressed in her cut-off jeans and a red print button up sleeveless blouse. She looked like she always did. Big, teased, curly blonde hair and heavy eye makeup; lots of black eyeliner, shadow and thick mascara. She looked OK to me.
"Kathy, you're not going to a church picnic with that mascara on. Go wash your face and get out of here. You're going to be late."
"If I can't go like this, then I'm not going," Kathy shouted back.
If I had ever threatened my mom like that, she'd just tell me to get myself in the bedroom and stay home then. If Kathy didn't go with me I'd be all alone on the picnic. I needed some backup. I needed someone to sit with. To have fun with. I didn't know many of those other girls and certainly didn't know the boys. I was in a panic. So I whispered to Kathy,
"Just wash it off. You don't need it. Let's just go. We're gonna be late!"
No makeup in the world was important enough to make us miss that bus to fun. Kathy never even answered me and continued her argument with her mother.
"I'm just not going without my mascara! I'll look stupid."
Poor Mrs Butte was about to give up but then in one last ditch effort she even tried throwing me in as a good example.
"Look at her. She doesn't need all that paint to have a good time." This argument carried no weight at all with Kathy. She stood her ground.
I wasn't allowed to wear ANY makeup, but, truth is, if my mom had let me I'd have looked exactly as Kathy did in a heartbeat.
After about 15 minutes of Mrs Butte haranguing Kathy, of Kathy shouting, screaming and simply pitching a fit, and of me panicking because I wasn't going on a picnic after all, Mrs Butte gave in and Kathy left for the Calvary Baptist Church picnic looking like a 13 year old hooker.
I waited for her at the corner like we'd arranged but she never showed up. It was getting late so I walked the several blocks to her house. When I got to the door, I heard shouting and something about,
"If I can't wear it then I'm just not going."
I knocked and as Mrs Butte let me in she yelled back to my friend,
"Kathy, she's here. If you're going, go!'
Even though I'd never been in her house before, I made my way to Kathy's room by following the shouting. Kathy was dressed in her cut-off jeans and a red print button up sleeveless blouse. She looked like she always did. Big, teased, curly blonde hair and heavy eye makeup; lots of black eyeliner, shadow and thick mascara. She looked OK to me.
"Kathy, you're not going to a church picnic with that mascara on. Go wash your face and get out of here. You're going to be late."
"If I can't go like this, then I'm not going," Kathy shouted back.
If I had ever threatened my mom like that, she'd just tell me to get myself in the bedroom and stay home then. If Kathy didn't go with me I'd be all alone on the picnic. I needed some backup. I needed someone to sit with. To have fun with. I didn't know many of those other girls and certainly didn't know the boys. I was in a panic. So I whispered to Kathy,
"Just wash it off. You don't need it. Let's just go. We're gonna be late!"
No makeup in the world was important enough to make us miss that bus to fun. Kathy never even answered me and continued her argument with her mother.
"I'm just not going without my mascara! I'll look stupid."
Poor Mrs Butte was about to give up but then in one last ditch effort she even tried throwing me in as a good example.
"Look at her. She doesn't need all that paint to have a good time." This argument carried no weight at all with Kathy. She stood her ground.
I wasn't allowed to wear ANY makeup, but, truth is, if my mom had let me I'd have looked exactly as Kathy did in a heartbeat.
After about 15 minutes of Mrs Butte haranguing Kathy, of Kathy shouting, screaming and simply pitching a fit, and of me panicking because I wasn't going on a picnic after all, Mrs Butte gave in and Kathy left for the Calvary Baptist Church picnic looking like a 13 year old hooker.
Friday, June 27, 2008
ugly girlfriend
I was Connie Hughes' ugly girlfriend. We were both 13 and though I was still a kid, she was a woman. Her polished, manicured beauty shined like the noon day sun next to my childish appearance. I felt like a hefty trash bag compared to her. She had the blondest blonde hair and molten brown eyes that sparkled. Her little turned up nose perfectly framed her startlingly white teeth. Her skin was perpetually tanned even in the days before tanning salons because she had her own sunlamp and she only wore the latest, most fashionable clothes. Connie moved with a grown-up grace that I still, to this day, struggle to possess.
As for me, I wore regular clothes that looked OK to me but that Connie wouldn't have been caught dead in. Sometimes I wore hand me downs that never fit exactly right on my chubby young teen body. My hair was dishwater blonde and never quite fixed. My unmade-up eyes were blue-gray and paled in comparison to my friend's eyes and her perfect minimally applied makeup.
I had little composure around boys and was pretty shy most of the time. Connie's confidence and charm was a beauty to behold. I was right beside her and watched closely while she held court with the boys every Sunday. If I'd had pen and paper, I'd have taken notes. She was that good. Connie talked with them as though they were just regular people, while I thought they were aliens to conquer and take prisoner.
She lived with her divorced mother in her house with white carpet and a manicured yard. (I was never invited in, but she told me about it.) I lived with my parents and three siblings in our house with gray carpet and Dad's pigeons in the garage. She never even saw my house.
With all these differences you may be wondering how we ever connected, this gorgeous Connie and I. We knew each other from Jr high but actually met in Sunday School at Calvary Baptist Church. I rode the church bus, and she, living closer to the church, walked. Despite our differences and because I was the only other person in the room she knew, we got to know one another and she charmed me, too. It wasn't too long before I was skipping the bus ride and walking all the way to her house so she didn't have to walk the last block to the church alone.
As for me, I wore regular clothes that looked OK to me but that Connie wouldn't have been caught dead in. Sometimes I wore hand me downs that never fit exactly right on my chubby young teen body. My hair was dishwater blonde and never quite fixed. My unmade-up eyes were blue-gray and paled in comparison to my friend's eyes and her perfect minimally applied makeup.
I had little composure around boys and was pretty shy most of the time. Connie's confidence and charm was a beauty to behold. I was right beside her and watched closely while she held court with the boys every Sunday. If I'd had pen and paper, I'd have taken notes. She was that good. Connie talked with them as though they were just regular people, while I thought they were aliens to conquer and take prisoner.
She lived with her divorced mother in her house with white carpet and a manicured yard. (I was never invited in, but she told me about it.) I lived with my parents and three siblings in our house with gray carpet and Dad's pigeons in the garage. She never even saw my house.
With all these differences you may be wondering how we ever connected, this gorgeous Connie and I. We knew each other from Jr high but actually met in Sunday School at Calvary Baptist Church. I rode the church bus, and she, living closer to the church, walked. Despite our differences and because I was the only other person in the room she knew, we got to know one another and she charmed me, too. It wasn't too long before I was skipping the bus ride and walking all the way to her house so she didn't have to walk the last block to the church alone.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
a new thing
Hi all!
This goal of this blog is to be a bit more whimsical. I could have just added my whimsicality to the other forum but there's something fun about starting a new thing and this is it. I hope to try lots o'new stuff, or at least new stuff for me. We'll see if it works. If not, then the delete button will be my new best friend.
Saw a sign on an airboat once that said, "Get in, sit down, hold on and shut up!" For myself I say, "Get in, sit down, hold on!" Hopefully this won't be a mediocre ride. And please DON'T shut up. Let me know what you think and pass along any brainstorms and/or ideas you have. And, hey, please be patient with me. I'm fragile. (Fra-gee-lay :)
Suz
This goal of this blog is to be a bit more whimsical. I could have just added my whimsicality to the other forum but there's something fun about starting a new thing and this is it. I hope to try lots o'new stuff, or at least new stuff for me. We'll see if it works. If not, then the delete button will be my new best friend.
Saw a sign on an airboat once that said, "Get in, sit down, hold on and shut up!" For myself I say, "Get in, sit down, hold on!" Hopefully this won't be a mediocre ride. And please DON'T shut up. Let me know what you think and pass along any brainstorms and/or ideas you have. And, hey, please be patient with me. I'm fragile. (Fra-gee-lay :)
Suz
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