After reading our miss Murdo Girl’s papers from yesterday and today, it appears she is learning how to rationalize a situation. The goal being to avoid trouble whenever possible. She is growing up, but she’s not going willingly. At least today, she didn’t try to use any ten dollar words like surreptitiously.
I had to start wearing nylons. It seems that when you get to the 8th grade, you’re supposed to wear them when you dress up. We went to Winner for a music contest, and that’s when some of the girls decided it was time to start wearing “hose.” I had to play a saxophone solo, and those darn nylons ruined it.
There are boys who read this. Oh well, I don’t care. They should know what we go through.
You have to wear a garter belt to hold your nylons on your leg. It is a very weird contraption. The top of the belt goes around your waist. There are four straps hanging from the belt. On the end of the straps you have doohickys. (There are four of them.) You put the top of the nylon under the bottom part of the doohicky. It has a button-like thing on it. I think they are called garters. The top garter goes on the top and buttons to the bottom garter. That’s what keeps your nylon up. The whole thing is called a garter belt. The nylons come separately.
Me without doohickys…Karen and Kim Lindquist
Right in the middle of my solo, the doohicky on the back of one leg came loose, and the nylon slipped right off, which caused the front to sag. I finally got an opportunity to glance down when the piano player who was accompanying me, had a little part that I didn’t play my saxophone to. I could see the nylon was a wrinkled mess just like Grandma’s hose (nylons) always are because they don’t make them small enough for her. Grandma wears a girdle to keep her nylons up, but it doesn’t work. Besides, you still have to deal with the doohickys attached to the girdle. (Some older ladies just roll them down over a rubber band. I wonder if that works better.) Well, at least the front doohicky on my garters never came all the way off, which was a blessing. I feared that all the doohickys would come off and I’d be standing there with my hose around my ankles.
Anyway, for the very first time in my life, I didn’t get a Superior on my solo, because I was too distracted to remember all of it. I can’t even tell people about it, because it’s going to sound like an elaborate excuse, and they’ll think the real reason is that I didn’t practice my solo enough times to memorize it better.
Mom (all the way to the left) when she was about my age…Doohicky?
It just wasn’t a good experience all around. Mom threw a hissy fit because I forgot to mention I volunteered her to take me and some other kids to the contest. I told her the day before. She said I hadn’t even told her I was playing a solo, although I’m pretty sure I did. She asked me when I practiced because she very seldom heard me.
She didn’t even care about my doohicky dilema.
Mom and I during better times