Maggie, how come I acted so smart alecky?
I don’t know.
I think I was born with a
gene left over from one of my
ancestors who always needed a
challenge.
Anyway, I loved school, any
school.
The teacher asked if any of
us could play an instrument.
Several raised their hands
including me.
She then asked to tell her
what kind of instrument we played.
Some said violins, some said
flute or other type of horn and
“Helen, what do you play”?
I said proudly “I play the
comb”.
She smiled and said “Those of
you who can, bring your instruments
to school, we’ll have a musical
program at the end of class
tomorrow.”
And so, we had a musical.
When it came to my turn, I
calmly wrapped cellophane paper
around the comb and blew into my
comb:
The eyes of Texas are upon you,
All the live long day.
The
eyes of Texas are upon you,
You cannot get away.
Do not think you can escape them,
At night, or early in the morn'.
The eyes of Texas are upon you,
Till
Gabriel
blows his horn!
The class applauded.
Again, I had met a challenge
and embraced it.
Several months later, the teacher
asked me to stay after school.
“Helen”, she said “You are no
longer on probation.
You are a very good student.
In fact, I think you should
be moved up to the fifth grade with
the ten year olds.
Ask your mother before I make
a decision.
I went home and told my
mother.
She said, “Helen, what do you
want to do.
Stay where you are or move to
the other class”.
I answered, “I’d like to stay
with the kids I know”.
She said fine, tell your
teacher your decision tomorrow.”.
I told my teacher and she
said that’s alright, stay with us.
Over the years, I used to say
more than once I could have been
double promoted if I wanted to but
decided not be with the older kids.
I loved the word “double
promoted”.
Maybe that was the beginning
of my love for words and those words
made me feel special.
My cousin, Joe was two years younger
than me and was raised to be a very
good boy.
My aunt was very strict.
He was to greet guests and
offer to take their coats, saying
words like “Thank you” and “Can I
get something for you”.
I thought this was prissy and
felt sorry for Joe, a dark eyed,
beautiful curly hair kid who
stuttered.
I disapproved of his folks
giving him orders.
I detested orders but of
course, I was never told to talk
slowly.
I think if my folks were to
give me order about talking it would
be something like “Helen, you talk
too much, give someone else a chance
to talk”.
I was a chatterbox.
more
. .
