Friday, October 8, 2010

Look what I got in the mail today.............

I got this envelope from Reminisce Magazine and couldn't imagine what it was.  Turns out, it was a manuscript and photo that I had submitted to them on June 2, 2004.  As usual, my writing ended up in a slush pile on or near the editor's desk, or perhaps near the trash can.  Most of my writing ends up that way.  From what I can tell, the editor had kept it (they usually return it to the author with a nice REJECTION letter), thinking he might use it, but evidently, he had a huge slush pile.  I can just picture it in a pile of manuscripts that reached to the ceiling.  Anyway, the poor editor passed away in December of 2009------probably bored to death by writers like me.  It has taken them almost a year to wade through the slush pile and discover my submission.  They were nice enough to return my manuscript and photo to me.

I looked at the photo and it took me back 53 years----yes 53 years(I can't believe I admitted that) to a September Saturday in 1957 when I was flower girl for my second cousin's wedding.  Oh, how sad.  I look at that little girl and I could easily be the little sister sittin' on the porch with the banjo picker from Deliverance--you know, THAT movie.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask your mom or grandma--they will remember Deliverance if they saw it.  It was quite unforgettable---shocking and unforgettable.

Any way, at seven years of age I was bashful, backwards, and bound and determined not to smile for the camera.  The wedding was held at St. George Catholic Church in Hermann.  I was really excited about being in the wedding, but my excitement didn't last past the vows.  As all Catholic weddings went back then, the nuptials were performed in the morning, followed by the entire wedding party piling into cars and tearing around town visiting bar after bar in celebration.  This would take place until it was time for the wedding dinner of close friends and family.  Then there would be more riding around declaring their nuptial bliss with honking horns and rounds of beer at the home of relatives and friends until it was time for the evening reception where the cake was cut, gifts were opened (yes, they opened gifts back then ) and the bouquet and garter were thrown.

 Well, at seven, I wasn't too interested in beer and the reveling, honking of horns and fast driving scared me.  I just knew this dream of being flower girl in a wedding would turn into a nightmare to me.  I would end up a crumpled mess on the side of the road, my beautiful lavender dress covered in my blood, my young lifeless body  a testament to the evils of drunk driving.  So I was so relieved when we headed to the hall for dinner.  I went straight to my mommy and told her I was scared and didn't want to go with the wedding party that afternoon.  She didn't make me go.  All afternoon, I expected the adults to say the entire wedding party had crashed into the Missouri River  and all had perished.   It was really boring  to spend the afternoon at the hall with no one to play with......cousin David, the ringbearer apparently liked the wild life and he hit the road with the rest of them.  He would find out that I was the only sane one in the bunch when he lay crumpled by the side of the road, his blood splattered on his new suit.

However, all things ended well, my cousin David made fun of me, and I had the experience of being a flower girl in a wedding.  But it kinda marred my idealized version of the wedding day.  My education on love and marriage came from fairy tales where the prince and the princess got married and lived happily ever after.      Just seeing my second cousin in her beautiful white dress and veil going from bar to bar, drinking frosty glasses of German beer just didn't seem very romantic to me.  I guess it is a good thing I couldn't comprehend the wedding night.......................it would have scarred me forever.  I was a weird little girl--still am!

Anyway.......................here is the photo for you to laugh at and the story that lay in a slush pile on the editor's floor for six years will come tomorrow.


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