I CAN’t BELIEvE I sAID tHAt!
Have you ever uttered words before you engaged your brain? Words so awful or ill-timed that you learned they were a mistake the minute they escaped your lips? I certainly have, and some of them still continue to haunt me until this very day. But here I go again… I don’t even have the good sense to refrain from repeating them to you good friends and strangers.
I was in fourth grade when my teacher, Miss Alma, called me down unfairly, I thought. We’d been given a rare overnight assignment to write at least five sentences about our favorite holiday. Verbose as I am, I wrote much more than five sentences, and when I read mine aloud in class the following day, Miss Alma said I must have copied from my parents or someone older because I used some “big” words that did not sound like a 4th grader. She and the class accused me of “cheating” and I was so embarrassed I cried while trying to declare my innocence. Later that afternoon, I had to stay at my desk during recess where I spent my time drawing and coloring a picture with the caption “Miss Alma is a Mean Old Cow” and hid it in the bottom of my desk.
I was out sick the day she found it and that afternoon she brought, along with my Weekly Reader and books, the picture and caption to my house to show my mother.
Of course, Mama was mad and assured Miss Alma I would receive a whipping later. At this, I tearfully apologized, “I’m sorry, Miss Alma, you aren’t real old—I should have called you a young CALF!” Needless to say, my punishment remained the same.
The worst example of my misspeaking occurred when I was pre-school age. I have told you before that I was the tail end of my family, born much later than my three older brothers. My youngest brother, Bobby, was a young teenager and most embarrassed that his parents were expecting a baby at THEIR age! I not only usurped his place as ‘baby’ of the family, but I also consumed much of the attention he had previously enjoyed. You see, Bobby was smart, athletic and the best looking of us four kids. And, of course, he was also popular among his peers.
On the Friday night before he left for college, Mama planned a fancy party and Bobby provided the guest list. Now, I was only four, but I was excited about the party, too. After all, it had been the main subject of conversation at home and at the store for several weeks. Besides the guest list, Bobby contributed only one stipulation… young Brenda was not to be seen nor heard from during the course of the party.
The night arrived and I begged (for the umpteenth time) to please let me attend, but Bobby screamed “No!” This final rebuff caused my whimpering to accelerate to a full-blast squalling that could be heard for blocks. Finally, in order to stop wailings, he and Mama compromised. I could put on my birthday dress and, once everyone arrived, I could peek through the panes in the dining room French door. After than I was to STAY out of sight until bedtime, when, IF I’d been good, I might be allowed to say a polite “Good Night.”
Here, I need to give a bit of description. Our living room was, of course, up front with a large dining room connecting it behind a large arched opening. Typical 1940’s style. For the party, we had borrowed a dozen folding chairs from the Methodist church and these filled spaces between the living room furniture and beneath the arch. The aforementioned French door led to the breakfast room and kitchen. It was from this ‘swinging’ door I had my first glimpse of the party as well as my last.
After an hour or so, I had been so good that I begged Mama to let me go with her to pick up the empty plates. She relented, saying I could pick up the napkins but sternly admonished, “Just don’t say anything!”
Bobby glared when he saw me trailing behind Mama, but immediately a couple of girls began to address me! Today, I realize they were trying to make points with my handsome brother, but that night I glowed and began to sashay around the room while relishing their comments, “What a pretty dress!” one commented. Whirling around, I preened in the center of the room. “Are you going to miss Bobby?” his buddy asked. “Nope.” Then, one pretty girl pulled me close to her and asked, “How old are you now? You are getting so big, Brenda!”
A glaring Bobby spoke from across the room, “Don’t forget what we said, Brenda.” Oh, how I wanted to stay in that room with all the laughter… especially since the girls were ‘making over me’; yet I knew I had to add to the conversation in order to do that. When I took Bobby’s napkin, he growled under his breath, “Go Back in the kitchen, Brenda!” and I knew I had to say something… fast… anything… to prolong leaving. So I blurted out the first thought that came to mind… a simple question that Mama often asked me: “Bobby, have your bowels moved today?”
I had never seen him move so fast. I had never heard such loud laughter. I thought I’d made a real hit! Yet I was suddenly hanging over his shoulder as he headed through that swinging door and it continued to swing on its hinges as he deposited me next to Mama at the sink and got in four or five good licks to my bottom before she could stop him.
Thankfully, none of these guests or this story accompanied him to Henderson, and he succeeded in being popular there, as well — “Most Handsome” in his freshman class! This story is often repeated at the request of old friends, cousins and Bobby’s grandchildren.