ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ME... circa 1973 As promised, I'm going back into the vault to 1973. Here goes... "Where Were YOU in '73?" (Okay, so it doesn't rhyme like 72 did) I started 1973 as an only child. I was six, living in our new house on Olde Worcester and I was enjoying Kindergarten. I had short, short brown hair, recently cut after years of wearing it long. My mom got sick of it and had it cut boy-length. I can remember her having me lie across the kitchen counter top with my head in the sink so she could wash it when it was was waist lenght. I was always afraid I would go down the drain. We both got tired of that ritual, so she got it cut ultra-short. In early 1973, my mom was pregnant with my sibling-to-be. She looked and felt great. She gave up smoking, a service she never offered while pregnant with me, and she was in awesome shape. We kicked baby names around and received suggestions from everyone we knew. My parents never even entertained suggestions of girls� names, because they were so convinced the child mom was carrying was a boy. They were right. On May 15th, 1973, I was awakened bright and early and sent to the neighbors' house. Several hours later, we received word that my brother, Trevor Justin, was born at 9:00am. He weighed 7 pounds 6 ounces and mother and baby were both doing well. After a few days, my dad brought a picture to the neighbors to show to everyone. I looked at the picture and gasped. It was the ugliest baby I ever saw. Trevor looked just like a turtle. He was a sickening shade of green and had a stretched out face like Dana Carvey in �The Master of Disguise�. Everyone said he was beautiful. I found my first reason to dislike my new brother. Mom and Trevor came home soon and the attention in the home shifted from me, the princess, to him... the turtle. I went to school the day after he was born. JoLynn�s mother dropped me off and told the teacher, Mrs. Duringer, that I had some news. I sheepishly walked up to her desk and told her matter-of-factly that I had a new brother. She was so thrilled, as if my mother was the first woman to ever have a baby. I scowled at her. After a few months, Trevor outgrew his turtleness and got pretty cute. I developed a fear of night right around this time. I remember one night, waking up terrified that no one else was up. I always slept more soundly when my parents were awake. I felt safe knowing they were up and could protect me from whatever should want to harm me. I devised a brilliant plan! I snuck into Trevor�s room, shook his crib lightly, waking him up. I dashed back into my room. Mom naturally got up to tend to the crying baby, so now I had what I wanted... my mom was awake so I could sleep soundly. Wasn�t I horrible? I can�t believe I did something so thoughtless! I don't remember much else about 1973 until later. I began first grade in September and got the meanest teacher in school. Her name was Mrs. Messer and she was old and crusty. One time, we were discussing middle names in class for some reason. I sank down in my chair. I just knew she was going to call on me and put me on the spot. See, I wasn�t given a legal middle name. I knew she was going to ask me what my middle name was. I just knew it. And she did... �Linda, what�s your middle name?� I answered, very authoritatively, �I don�t have a middle name.� As I expected, she snapped at me, �OF COURSE YOU HAVE A MIDDLE NAME! EVERYONE HAS A MIDDLE NAME!� I assured her I didn�t. She asked me to sit in the hallway, her way of punishing me for being fresh. Looking back, I wish I had had my mother march in that room with my birth certificate, proving the old bitch wrong and demanding an apology. Later on in the year, she really left her mark on me. I was reading quite well in first grade. I think most of the kids were reading somewhat, but I knew I was the best reader in the class. Once, Mrs. Messer told me to �teach Bretta to read�. Bretta Correll couldn�t read a word, so what she was doing in our class, I didn�t know. Back then, we were grouped into four classes: remedial, average, advanced and �gifted� (as if they knew then who was gifted or not). I thought everyone in my class had to know how to read at least a few words in order to be in there. Seven year olds had no business teaching other seven year olds to read, nor did they have a clue how. The teacher had no business asking a seven year old to perform such a Herculean task. In fact, my response was, �Isn�t that your job?� After a stint in the hallway for my �smart mouth�, I was again told to teach Bretta to read. (Isn�t that a cool name? Bretta? I love it!) I tried as hard as I could to teach her to read. She just wasn�t getting it. And how could she? You don�t learn to read after one ten minute session with a classmate. I got frustrated, as did she. I told her I quit and that was fine with her. Later that day at recess, Lisa Lane and Liz Barringer asked me how Bretta was doing learning to read. I told them, �She can�t even read the word �be� yet!� Bretta overheard. She ran and told Mrs. Messer who yelled at me and made me sit out the rest of recess. Later in class, Mrs. Messer resumed teaching. She asked questions of us and I rasied my hand eagerly after each question. She never called on me. Finally, I gave up. She then asked a question so incredibly easy that I didn�t even waste my time raising my hand. Bretta shot her hand in the air and was called upon. She gave the right answer. Mrs. Messer said, �Look at that, Bretta! Linda�s so stupid, she didn�t even raise her arm!� I guess this was her way of making Bretta feel better after I had hurt her feelings. Mike Lauer stood up and said, �Linda knew the answer to that question! She just didn�t want to raise her hand for such an easy, baby question!� At that moment, I fell in love with Mike Lauer... After he returned from the hallway, Mike and I exchanged smiles. I never spoke to Bretta again, even in high school. I wonder if she remembers that episode with as much pain as I do. I don�t remember much else about that year, except bits and pieces. Like once when Mrs. Crusty Old Bitch asked JoLynn to count the stars on Mike Lauer�s baseball shirt. I was jealous because I wanted to count them. I remember how Liz Barringer used to do this thing where she crossed her arms in front of her and held onto her knees. Why, I don't know. From where I sat, she always looked like she was playing with herself and I told her so. She gave me a dirty look. I remember the ouftit my grandmother gave me for my seventh birthday. It was a red polyester shirt with stretchy red and white checked pants. I wore it for school pictures that year. So that is my 1973, as best as I can recall. You can wake up now. Watch for 1983 tomorrow. I'm wearing: a red and grey striped sweatshirt and Old Navy jeans I'm listening: unfortunately, Teletubbies. The boys turned it on, then left the room! I'm eating/drinking: water... blecch! 9:38 a.m. - 2003-01-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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