High School Homecoming....or Rather The Mum

At 15,  unlike most of my peers I had not had a date.  My parents were firm that I could not date until I was 16.  I really didn't care.  Boys made me nervous.  The thought of having to create conversation for the span of a date was overwhelming to me.  It was Homecoming week, the Cheerleaders had spent the afternoon in the hot girl's gym, behind the band hall, decorating for the dance.

By some fluke, I had once again made twirler.  In high school the image had much more pressure.  One of the pressures was having a mum to wear on my uniform for Homecoming. Nancy Dunten had taught me to dance...but I had no date and that meant I had no mum.   I had subtly suggested to my parents that they  might buy me one, however my mother's attitude was "No date, no mum....deal with it."  I was trying to.  Not having a mum for Homecoming was a big deal, not because of the date or the dance, but because I did not want to be the only twirler in the band, marching on the field, with no mum.

I could hear the chatter in the stands, "Oh someone doesn't have a mum, who is that, can you see who it is?  That is Jan Greenlee!!  She doesn't have a date for Homecoming!  That doesn't surprise me one bit....my daughter says she is such a mouse."
"Well my son said...." and so it would go, with my parents sitting in the middle of it, taking it all in, slightly amused.

Shelly Fox, who was a Junior twirler, told me not to worry, she would find me a date.... groan.  I didn't want a date, I wanted a mum.  On the afternoon of Homecoming, at the end of 5th period, Shelly came through, she had gotten me a date with Chris, who was also very quiet and in band.

I was sick.  First of all I had been in Driver's Ed with Chris and he had almost killed us all.  The thought of going anywhere in a car with him scared  me to death.  He was from a huge family who had a van, and I knew my mother would not let me go on a date with anyone who had a van.

Finally, after band he came and talked to me. "I'll meet you at the band hall after the game, I can't by you a mum, I don't have any money."  And...he was gone.  No one understood.  Now I had a date, but no stupid mum.  I had agreed to the date, so I would not be the only twirler without a mum, at least I didn't have ride in the car anywhere with him.  Now I would have to brave the humiliation anyway.  

My dad picked me up that afternoon with his cheery, "How's your day?"
"Terrible, I got a date for Homecoming but he is not getting me a mum.... I will be the only twirler without a mum."
"Well if that is the worst disappointment you ever have you will be lucky."   No one understood.

The band members were assembling at the band hall to march to Etheridge stadium, when my dad dropped me off on the circle.  I reluctantly got out of the car.....everyone was standing around talking....mum ribbons, swirling in the wind, hanging to their knees.  I was mortified I had the stupid date but no mum.  I heard a girl call my name and turned to see Kay, Shelly's sister coming up to me.  "Here Jan..... it's your mum!"  I was stunned as she pinned it on my uniform.
"Chris told me he couldn't buy me one?"  Kay just smiled and looked at me. "Well you just never know!" I never knew where it came from.  I think the twirlers must have taken up a collection to get it for me. The band marched at halftime presenting the back ground for the crowning of the Homecoming Queen.  I marched proudly with the mum ribbons fluttering all around.

After the game I changed clothes and met Chris at the band hall, we walked to the girl's gym where the Homecoming Dance was in full swing. After a few minutes of standing by the wall in the, Chris looked at me like he was in severe pain and said, "Ya wanna dance?"
"Not really."
"Good, I'll get someone to take you home."
And he did, although with the fog of the passing years, I really don't remember who it was.

New Beginnings

No matter how old you get, there is an opportunity for a new beginning.  I love to write but had, for a time, abandoned my blog.  I have wanted to be a writer since I was in Mrs. Crain's 4th grade class.
Being an ADD child that drove all my teachers crazy, compliments were few and far between. Since my mother was a teacher in the building, many times she knew what I had done wrong before I did.
I never seemed to be out from under a cloud until I had Mrs. Crain in 4th grade.

We were learning to write thank you notes. She came into our class, looked over the room and told us to "write".  Everyone was confused.  There were no instructions. She told us to  write about whatever came into our heads.  I started writing about the mountains. I had spent the summer in Washington State where the mountains amazed me by their magnificence and size.  Whenever we drove high into them, they were so pretty it took my breath away.  I wrote until she told us to stop.  Some people had still not written a word.

I remember across the top of my paper Mrs. Crain wrote, "Beautiful description Jan".  I was elated.  I could not believe I had done something to get such high praise.  From then on, when I finished my work, she told me to, "Just write." I began my journey.  My blog has been a continuation of that journey.

This week I had the opportunity to go to the West Texas A&M Writing Academy, started by Jodi Thomas, the author of 46 historic fiction Texas romances.  Most of the participants were published writers.  Our classes were led by successful published writers.  The group I was in had the privilege to be mentored by Rosa Latimer, author of the Historic Harvey House books.

I am so excited to have another beginning.  I hope you will continue on this journey with me.  The encouragement you have given me over the years through my blog, has given me the confidence to take this step.  My first book was WINDMILL TALES, published by the Texas Tech University Press.

I am currently working on two children books, one based on the blog post, An Old Man Named Henry and another based on the museum cat, Perkins, at the American Windmill Museum.  The big project I am currently researching is about LaMarque in the 50s and 60s.  The Last of the Tigers, class of 1970 is contributing to my research. The following pictures are some of the activities at the Writer's Academy.

Author of the Harvey House books, 

Texas New Mexico and Kansas, Rosa Latimer

West Texas A&M Writers Academy

Jodi Thomas, Author of 46 romances of          Rosa Latimer, Author
historic Texas.

Jodi Thomas, Author, Sharron, Rosa Latimer, Author, Jan, Donna and Kay

L-R Dallas,

 Bookstore owner in Canyon, Donna, Kay and Sharron

Christmas Cards

Did you get any Christmas Cards this year?  Did you send any out?  I send out thirty-five and got thirty-one.  There were years when I sent out seventy-five and still missed people.  I contemplated why my list had gotten so small and realized....so many people have died.  I am sixty-five so that is not unexpected.  

My fondest memories of Christmas as a child had nothing to do with gifts or places we went, but rather with Christmas cards.  My mother had three brothers, but her mother was one of eleven kids. Since Grannie was the oldest, all but 3 of her siblings were younger than her.  Some she even helped raise.  All of my great aunts and uncles were more like the were my mother's siblings.  And... they all lived in Washington State.  We only saw them once a year and for Christmas we were on our own.

In that stack of Christmas cards were my Christmas family visits.  My mother would read them and the put them in a basket.  The first thing I did when I got home from school was to grab the basket and start reading through all the cards.  They had news of cousins, school pictures, family pictures and stories of the adventures of the past year. Each one I read, I imagined their snowy houses and thought for sure they must go places in a sleigh on occasion.

We didn't talk on the phone much because it was long distance and much more expensive than today.  The only long distance calls we could afford were those to my grandparents.  To make the call we dialed the operator, then she would ask what area code we wanted to call.  She would click click click and then say "I have Area Code 509, what is the number?"  The number would be a name and number like WESTMORE 5-9797.  There  would be more clicking and finally an answer.  Then Mom would say, "Do we have a good connection?  Can you hear me?" The conversation would start.  Mom would always complain that when she called Grannie and Papa, they wanted to talk forever but when they called us, they kept it short. And that was why the cards were so special.

I dreamed every time a read a card, of living in Washington with the mountains and snow.  It seems like a fantasy land where Christmas must be like a story book.  Once Grannie sent me picture looking out her front window.  The snowplows would pile the snow in the middle of her street, and in this particular picture, it was piled so high she could not see the house across the street. I couldn't even imagine snow, much less that much of it.  

As it got closer to Christmas the basket got fuller.  Mom would take the cards we had gotten first and nestle them in the branches of the tree like an ornament.  There were a few I would always keep at the top of the stack, so I could read them over again.  The notes made it seem like family was just down the street. I would almost forget until I walked out into the balmy 80 degree humid coastal air.  

When Christmas got to only a few days away our tree was full of beautiful cards.  I knew just by looking at them who had sent them.  The tree and decorations would come down after New Years but the cards would go back into the basket and stay out a bit longer.  It wasn't unusual to come in from school and find my mom reading through the cards again too.

As I grew older I began to realize I felt  much closer to all those cousins, aunts and uncles than they ever felt to me.  They saw each other every week or so.  Being so far away we were pretty much forgotten, until our summer visits. To me however, it was as if they visited our house each year at Christmas.  My memories of those people are still cherished in my heart, a special part of of my childhood Christmas memories.