My friend Kim was more like me. We never played with dolls really. We enjoyed imagining we were in a great adventure. I recall one day we were in our back yard and were using the concrete table on my dad's smoke pit as the auction block that was used for selling slaves. Yes, Kim and I were Indians who were captured by the cavalry and were being taken to the fort to be sold. As we stood on the table with our hands tied behind our backs, I envisioned us to look beautiful and something of a damsel in distress. The poor Indian girl being sold as a slave! Something like a picture you would find on the cover of a romance novel. Naturally, I escaped from the soldiers and promised my Indian princess sister that I would ride like the wind to where the tribe is and inform Chief Yellow Eagle of our plight and bring the entire Indian nation to re-capture our dear sister. Once I found my horse, I was off so fast. Actually, I was running (or galloping) down the alley behind my house. About three or four houses down, there was a young elm tree growing in the alley. That was my tee pee. In my excitement running to get the tribe, I was yelling out "Yellow Eagle! Yellow Eagle!"
I guess the thing that stopped me in my tracks was the snickering and laughter from the five or six neighbor boys (all a couple of years older than me). They were all sitting on a fence from an opposing yard and witnessed my entire drama developing near my tee pee! (I mean elm tree.) It was sickening how they could not contain their laughter. At me! They were mocking me and calling out for Yellow Eagle too. They had no idea Kim was tied up at the fort waiting to be auctioned off. No, they were content to just make fun of me. I pulled a "Pee Wee Herman" and said something like "I meant to do that." or "Now, just where could that Yellow Eagle be? I must continue to keep looking for him" (since that would be the normal thing to do).
I was SO completely humiliated! News of this sort would spread through the entire 7th grade class in no time. I'm willing to bet that to this day, if one of those boys recalls that memory, he would burst out laughing at me one more time.
Some of them should have known about me though. I have always made up things. Usually to those neighbors younger than me, I told many that I was born in an army tank; or that I had a twin sister who was born two hours after me; or that I was going to be a twin but, as an embryo, I ate it. An imaginative mind was prevalent in my family. My older brother had an imaginary friend and my little sister told everyone her name was Sam. My older sister convinced me once that our grandmother took her intestines out through her belly button and put them in a jar by her bed every single night. So, the pressure to come up with a good story has been on since I was a wee little gedel. Just exercising my right as a Texan to exaggerate a story.
I enjoyed reliving that memory with my niece (painful that it was). I'm thinking that being a big dork and maintaining that age of innocence is a good thing. The awkwardness of that age can be diminished by nesting in play and imagination until it becomes more comfortable. Could it actually be that my nerdiness ended up being a good role model?
Recently, I had the privilege of reuniting with all of my relatives. This time I took great delight in observing my son, nieces and nephews and their children. My niece was getting married and my granddaughters were the flower girls. The blessings were so great, my cup runneth over.
However, in the last moments before the wedding, Tommy and I ended up driving to the church all by ourselves. Once we left the hotel, we both realized that we really did not know exactly how to get there. Since we are married, we immediately began to argue profusely. And I have to admit, Tommy had the right idea all along. If he had not followed a couple of my leads, we might have driven there quicker. But, we just got off track once and when we were taking our next, best guess, I prayed to my angels (and Tommy's) to help us get there on time. Just then I saw two golden eagles. I know they were gold in color and I could not recall such a color on a hawk. I didn't know but since I was in Colorado, the chance it was a golden eagle was great. I know it was our angels' message because we turned where they were circling and made it to the church in time to hear the most beautiful music ever written and see the most beautiful ceremony in existence.
Naturally, I had to share my angel story to my family members. So Sunday morning, we were all packed in the car to go have breakfast and I told them about Tommy getting lost (lol) and how the golden eagles showed us the way. Praise the Lord.
Then my niece asked, "Was it Yellow Eagle?"
