As a little girl, I envied other little girls who had either a blue satin Dallas Cowboy cheerleader jacket or a rabbit fur coat. I had a dull beige-colored jacket that I called the camel because of its uninspired color and workman-like construction. It had no glamour and living in a relatively hot climate such as Texas, I did not value function over style. I'd see the other girls in their winter jackets and feel a tight knot of envy grown in my heart like a tumor. With a jacket like theirs, my life would change. On the playground, I'd get to be Sue Ellen instead of Pamela when we reenacted the television show Dallas. I'd get to be JR's wife instead of his miscreant brother. If I had the prized Dallas Cowboy cheerleader jacket, I'd be rooting for America's team. Either way, the camel did not lead to this road. If it said anything, the message was schoolmarm.
Years later, I would teach some actual Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders because of my vicinity to Dallas. These girls were stunningly beautiful and a little dim -- beauty, charm, dance ability, attitude and then academics were the order of their days. I was shocked to find that my envy had turned into an odd sort of affection for these girls, the way you feel toward a childhood toy that you had loved deeply for a long time before moving to something else.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change." William S. Burroughs
Drinking nonfiction suggestion: Cleaving Dennis and Vicki Covington
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy May Day!