One thing that has bothered me about loosing my Ma last year is the worry of her “essence” being lost with her. Stories of who she was as a kid, what did she do, how did she live, what things did she enjoy. Recipees. Being able to tell me what relative it is in some old black and white photo. Because of that, I am working to be proactive in journaling the recipees that I use that my children like (it will be blog-like and include pictures, separate from this blog and I will post a link to my FB page and on here for those of you who are interested). I am working to scan all the photos I have in my possession and save them to an external, each having details included in the title so people (especially Al and Mander) will know who.t.f. these people are. And lastly, I want to tap out stories of my childhood (ones I love to tell, others that I pull out of the mental archives). Combined, it will be My Life In Five Minute Shorts… Today’s short: The Ballerina
My favorite aunt in the whole wide world is Debo. Debbie has always been this amazing free spirit who knew how to make me laugh and how to get me into trouble at the same time. She took me to my first Rated R movie (Blue Lagoon) and didn’t even cover my eyes for the naked parts (I was 12ish). She was the one who first pierced my ears (I have had three additional holes added to the two ears since). If I had questions, she would answer them honestly and matter-of-factly. For all the men who have come into (and out of) my life – you can thank Debo and her room of great magazines for who “I am” today. She allowed me to drive my first car (a red Super Nova – maybe 14ish). There are a number of stories I have from my childhood that involve my Aunt Debo. This one is about a Ballerina…
In Debo’s house there was a room that might have had literature of a mature nature. (I actually paused as I was typing that line, looked off into the distance – remembering said room – and smiled). It was in this room that I found a magazine that had the most amazingly beautiful man I had ever seen in my whole life. He was a Ballerina. And, what to my amazing eyes should appear as I opened the folded pages out to the centerfold within? PENIS!! I was mystified. I was intrigued. I was stymied. Why would this guy just throw his penis out there for everyone to see? [Mind you I knew what a penis was even though I was only in sixth grade – my Ma had previously taken me along with her for a “lady appointment” when I was in fourth grade and I sat patiently in the waiting room and watched the miracle of birth tape that was on loop there. So yes, Michelle knew where babies came from and how they were put “up in there” in the first place.]
As I sat there in awe-struck admiration I realized this – Mr Ballerina-Man should be rewarded for his efforts, for putting himself out there. He should have his name heralded from the tree tops. How can I help him in his endeavor? Um… Let me think. How can I help Mr Naked Ballerina-Man? Wait! I’ve got it!! I have show-n-tell for Sister Rose’s class this week! I will take his beautiful picture and explain to the other, less mature children, how this man (and his naked art) should be revered…..
I can ease your mind by telling you I was never able to fully “expose” my class to the wonderments of this amazing artist. I can also tell you that, in sixth grade, I was able to outrun my Ma in laps around our house (and was capable of holding onto the photo evidence in my possession while running at top rates of speed). I will also venture to explain that there was a beautiful huge oak tree in my front yard that had a hollow-hole at the bottom (on the side facing away from the house) that was big enough to hide certain Chelle-Artifacts. Once the photos were securely stored, I made my way to my hideout in a nook under the tall front porch and I waited…
How did this story end, I am sure you are asking? It ended with my Ma walking through the house, locking the backdoor, coming to the front porch and sitting in a rocker. There she rocked as she loudly explained a simple set of facts to me (loudly because she knew I was in my hideout directly underneath her, she wanted to make sure I caught the whole lecture): “Eventually you will get hungry and want to eat, there is food inside. Eventually you will get tired and I am sure your bed will be much more comfortable than the cold, hard ground. The neighbors have been warned and will n0t let you in. You have no where to run. Just turn yourself in, face your troubles and get on with your life. The longer you make me wait, the worse it is going to be – I have things I need to do and cannot get them done sitting here waiting on you.”
So I turned myself in. I was punished accordingly (my Ma was fond of using the metal end of a flyswatter – that left crazy welps). The worse part of it – I had to give up my contraband. In retrospect, the one thing that saddens me is that I cannot remember the real name of Mr Naked Ballerina-Man so I could pull a picture for reference-sake. Maybe HE is the reason I had a celebrity crush on Mikhail Baryshikov… sigh.
Hope you enjoyed this five minute short. I will leave you with a picture of my young celeb-crush as I am unable to provide you with the True Ballerina…
Categories: Personal History / My Own Words