THE FOREST FAIRIES, Part 3

Arabella and Annalisa

                                                                               

 Queen of the Fairies

Mother," the twin fairies cried, "We have devised a plan to rescue Rapunzel.  We will find a handsome prince and....."

"No more handsome princes!  Remember the problems you had with the prince and Sleeping Beauty.  You could have just left the palace door open, but no, you told the poor man to climb up the vines to her room--"

"It was romantic climbing up the brambles--"

"And they were covered with thorns!  Why do you think they called her Briar Rose?  And his wounds became infected!  I had to give you that magic salve to cure him.  And worst of all, when the prince entered her bedroom, Briar Rose was covered with cobwebs!!  She had been sleeping for one hundred years and everything was covered with them.  He had to peel them from her face before he could see her beauty!  I am surprised the prince didn't just faint dead away what with his wounds and all those cobwebs...."

"Mama, stop!" cried Arabella.  "They fell in love in spite of the cobwebs and they are married now and Briar Rose is having a baby!"

"Oh, no!  Another disastrous christening I suppose.  They better invite all the fairies this time or my cousin Repellante will put a spell on the baby...."

"Mama, please, we promise not to involve a prince this time," said Annalisa.   "We are going to fly into Rapunzel's dark tower and advise her to cut off her thick braid, nail it to the window and climb down to freedom! We have located her parents and they were overjoyed to learn that their dear daughter was coming home to them at last!"

"Well, all right then.  I'm flying home now.  Your father and I like to have a glass of raspberry wine before dinner.  Now, Girls, don't be late!"  And she flew into the sky muttering something about Rapunzel would probably break her ankle during her descent and then......But the sisters heard no more as they flew off in the opposite direction.  They had time to tell dear Rapunzel of their plan as their parents always had several glasses of raspberry wine before dinner.  They hoped Papa would not fall asleep again during the soup course; it always made Mama very cross.

SARASOTA'S MISS MAILAWAY!

Back in the Fifties every small town in America had beauty contests and Sarasota was no exception.  This was the time when the city wanted to attract more people to its beautiful coastline and sugary white sand so each year the Sarasota Herald Tribune would send out its mail-away edition to people all over the USA.  A very thick edition heralded the fabled beauty of the city's location, its exquisite Spanish architecture, the Ringling Art Museum, its Equity theater, the Palmtree Playhouse and The Players, its community theater and most of all its miles of pristine, completely unspoiled beach, its sand so white and pure that it looked as if no one had ever walked on its snowy perfection.  (An unlooked for consequence of hoards of Northerners moving to our untouched shores was that our virgin beaches lost their purity and tacky motels and eventually high rise condos sprang up, completely hiding the beaches.)

But in the Fifties we did not foresee the loss of natural beauty that lay ahead.  The Herald Tribune held a yearly contest to choose Miss Mailaway, a local beauty who would grace the cover of its special edition.  Now the contest did not pretend it was interested in a girl's talents, speaking ability or social causes--it was a beauty contest plain and simple.  Young women in their late teens walked around the pool at the Lido Casino in one-piece bathing suits and spike heels.  After each smiling parade around the pool, some unfortunate girls would be eliminated.  Now there were rules, but they were unspoken.  For instance, there were no Black girls in the contest, nor were there Asian or Hispanic girls and certainly no young women of Middle Eastern descent.  Exotic or unusual beauty was ignored. Contestants were to be conventionally pretty, full-figured (this was the time of Marilyn Monroe, not Twiggy) and very, very tan.  (I tried to get a tan, but I only got skin cancer.)  While there were no women of color in the contest, most of the girls looked like Halle Berry--golden brown skin with Caucasian features.  Now Miss Mailaway was a big deal and practically the whole town attended.  Large pictures of the contestants in bathing suits were featured in the paper nearly every day.  Needless to say, my friends and I all loved the contest.  I was forever barred because I was painfully skinny and shockingly pale.  And of course I still had no breasts.  But the fact that I didn't qualify did nothing to dampen my ardor. (I also attended the Miss Sarasota, Miss Florida and Junior Miss contests.)

The contest that was the most fun for my friends and me was the year that we knew most of the contestants.  As all the girls paraded around the pool for the first time, we knew immediately who would be eliminated early on--the plain, awkward girls, the too short girls, the ones with skinny legs or the wrong hair or an ugly bathing suit and most of all, the girls who lacked that vital attribute, a really good tan.  The judges were four callow youths who formed a bad barbershop quartet, but who knew the rules and eliminated those girls who didn't fit in including our friend Ginger, a girl of dark, dangerous beauty who probably scared the pants off our quartet.  The evening progressed with few surprises and it became clear who the two top contenders were to be--Sandra and Lucy--two girls we all went to school with.  They were only two years older than I was, but infinitely more worldly (of course, the only females less worldly than I were cloistered nuns.)  Sandra was a redhead and Lucy a brunette, but they both wore white suits on their spectacular, well-tanned figures.  At last all the girls were eliminated but Sandra, Lucy and a blonde in a black bathing suit no one paid any attention to.  The final three circled the pool one last time, smiling and drinking in the approval, the catcalls, the wolf whistles and the wild applause.

The second runnerup was announced to the surprise of none--the blonde.

The first runnerup was announced--Lucy, the voluptuous brunette.  But, alas, Lucy obviously thought she had won because she squealed and stepped forward, smiling broadly and waiting for her bouquet or crown or whatever they planned to give her.  But poor Lucy had not won; Sandra was Miss Mailaway.  To her credit, Lucy stepped back, looking confused and Sandra, also looking a bit confused, stepped forward.  I had thought Sandra should win, but I felt sorry for Lucy who later entered the Miss Sarasota contest and came in third.  Years later I ran into Sandra who was running the Green Stamp redemption store right next to Publix. While still beautiful, she looked too thin and a bit drawn.  I asked her if she had been Miss Mailaway several years ago.

"It wasn't several years ago.  It was many, many years ago," she said, not smiling.  She took my books of Green Stamps and slapped them on the counter.

FIRST DANCE

                                                                              

    FIRST DANCE







Because my three brothers were younger than I, I always felt protective of them.  We fought like cats and dogs, but no one would be allowed to hurt my little brothers.  Ever. This was an impossible task, but I didn't know that then. The time came when my oldest brother, Rick, went to his first junior high dance.  Rick and his friend looked so handsome in their new clothes, so young, so innocent.  When the boys were to leave with my dad to pick up the girls, I insisted on going and sat in the front seat.  (I'm sure Rick was thrilled.) We drove to a nearby neighborhood and picked up two very sweet looking girls all decked out in party dresses.  All four sat jammed together in the back seat.  There was no laughter or flirtation; this was serious business.  At that time Rick was painfully shy, but he was so good looking that girls overlooked his shyness.  Conversation was tentative as no one quite knew what to say.  We arrived at the school and the four first daters filed out of our ancient car.  Slow dance music was floating out from the gym and lots of excited kids were milling about.  Rick turned and waved just before entering the dance, a big smile on his face. He looked so impossibly young.

I was to remember that night several years later when I was a junior in college.  I brought a friend home with me for Spring Break, a pretty red-haired freshman of 18 with a spectacular figure.  Karen* was far more sophisticated than I (her mother let her watch foreign films) and actually knew all about sex.  She and her boyfriend had been doing the dark deed for almost two years.  I was extraordinarily impressed by this because up until that time I had not realized that nice girls could have sex.  In fact, my worldly friend was able to clear up some rather startling misconceptions I had about that most fascinating of subjects.

One day at the beach Karen said casually, "Your brother Rick is very good looking."  A pregnant pause.  "I wonder if I could seduce him."   "WHAT?" I said, choking on my cherry Coke.  "I'd like to be his first," she said with a little smile.  I was shocked beyond measure.  "But he's just a little kid!" I protested.  (Rick was 6' 3" and muscular.)  "Well, he's not so little anymore," Karen said dryly.  "He's sixteen, isn't he?"

I suddenly remembered Rick's face at his first dance.  Innocence personified.  This girl would seduce him, make him fall in love with her and then go back to college and promptly forget him.  His heart would be broken!  "No, absolutely not," I said firmly.  "I forbid you to do it."  Karen looked at me, then at the waves crashing on the beach and then back at me.  "All right," she said in a low voice.  "I won't."

Years later I told Rick about this experience.  As it happens, he remembered Karen well.  "She was a very......healthy looking girl," he said, chuckling. "Looked good in a bathing suit."

Older and wiser now I said, "You think I should have minded my own business, don't you?"

Rick smiled.  "Oh, I think I could have handled it myself."


*Not her real name

THE FOREST FAIRIES, Part 2

Annalisa & Arabella

  

The Queen of the Fairies

The twin sisters decided to ask their mother, the Queen of the Fairies, about Rapunzel.  As Queen, their mother knew everything which was sometimes extremely annoying.

"Mama, tell us about Rapunzel in the dark tower.  We know that old witch, Hepzibah, can't be her true mother," they said in chorus.

"Of course, Hepzibah is not Rapunzel's mother.  She stole her from her cradle when she was newly born and it was all over some rhubarb ....or radicchio; I can't remember.  Her parents were heartbroken and begged Hepzibah to return their baby, but she pretended not to know what they were talking about.  Hepzibah took Rapunzel to the dark tower--she could still fly then--and hid the child inside. There was no door and only one window near the top of the tower.  When Hepzibah grew too old to fly, Rapunzel had to let down her long hair so the witch could climb up.  Oh, it is a dreadful story and all over some rutebagas."

"Mama, Annalisa and I are determined to rescue poor Rapunzel and return her to her parents."

"Well, I hope you don't invent another rattlebrain plan.  Think it through this time.  Remember poor Cinderella and those ridiculous glass slippers.  Her feet were covered with blisters!  And at midnight she was left on the street with her rags, a pumpkin and some mice.  Cinderella had to run all the way home on her blistered feet, carrying those mice whom she said were her friends.  I think the poor girl may be mental."

Stung, Arabella cried out, "Well, she is marrying Prince Charming next week!  And he is very handsome.  And, of course, charming!

"But not very bright, I fear," said the Queen Mother and flew off.

Her daughters stamped their feet in a fit of pique, but since they were floating in the air, it had no effect whatsoever.

THE SPECTACULAR SAILOR CIRCUS

  The Sarasota     

Sailor Circus

When I was growing up in Sarasota in the Fifties, the highlight of every school year was the spectacular Sailor Circus held in the football stadium at Sarasota High.  In my memories the nights are always cool; the moon is always golden in the starlit sky and it never, ever rains.  In those halcyon days the famous circus families lived in Sarasota--the Wallendas, the Canastrellis, the Zachinnis and many more.  At one time we lived down the street from the Wallendas and were used to seeing the family practicing on the high wire in their backyard.  For many years these circus professionals trained teenagers (their own children among them) to perform in the Sailor Circus.  I know I shall bring the wrath of present-day Sarasota down on my head when I say that during the fabled Fifties the Sailor Circus reached heights it was never to reach again.  Under the watchful eye of circus luminaries at the top of their game, even kids who did not grow up in the circus learned to do things they had thought were impossible.  For a child like myself who lacked strength, coordination, balance and grace, the Sailor Circus performers became like the gods of Olympus.  They were superhuman.  They were magic!

One moonlit night stands out among all the others.  I remember the girls on the Spanish Web--all grace and beauty, their long legs wound around the thick rope, bending their bodies in impossible curves and smiling, always smiling at us all.  A young man seemed to dance and leap on the high wire, fearless as he flipped over on the thin cord.  We too were fearless because we knew in our hearts that he could not fall.  And at last came my favorites, the glittering stars of the evening,  the artists on the flying trapeze.  High above us the five performers appeared relaxed, taking their daring feats for granted, but my heart was beating so fast that I felt almost dizzy.  They flew through the air, turning somersaults as their sequined costumes caught the lights; their timing was perfect as they flipped and caught the opposite trapeze.  As the performance grew more intricate, I knew that everything depended on faultless timing and the special skills of the catcher.  The young man hung by his knees, his wrists taped, his muscular arms outstretched to catch the performer hurtling toward him.  I was breathless.  The act was racing toward its spectacular finish; one extraordinary pass after another until the last girl grasped the trapeze and swung out, turning over and over in the air until at the last possible moment the catcher grabbed on and held fast.

I am an old woman now and the flyers, if they are still with us, are even older than I.  But in my mind's eye, I see them still, their strong, graceful bodies forever flying toward one another against the midnight blue of the sky.

THE FOREST FAIRIES, Part I

Annalisa and Arabella, the Forest Fairies*

Annalisa, I am worried about that young girl who lives alone in the dark tower.  You know, the one with the very long blonde hair.

Arabella, I know who you mean.  I think her name is Rapunzel.  I see her looking out the window when I fly by at night.  She must be very lonely.

And no one ever comes to visit her except that mean old witch, Hepzibah! And you know that nasty witch is too old to be her real mother, Sister.  She is so ancient she can't even fly!

I know.  That's why she makes poor Rapunzel put her long blonde braid out the window so she can climb up.  You know that must really hurt having your hair pulled like that.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair."

You know what I would do, Annalisa; I would say NO! That dear girl must have a headache for days. It would give me the vapors having my hair yanked about like that.  We must help!

Yes,we must rescue Rapunzel from the dark tower. She can look for her real mother!

The fairy sisters were enraptured by their own

                   goodness!

*American Girl dolls

MY FIRST BIG CRUSH

FIRST BIG CRUSH, ELLEN GEER AND ME

When I was fourteen, I played my third role at The Players in a very Fifties' play, A Roomful of Roses.  (I'm the teenager on the sofa.)  This experience was a totally happy one for me and I made friends I was to keep for many, many years.  The leading role was played by Ellen Geer, whose father Will was to become a household name several years later playing Grandpa on The Waltons.  (Your feet are cold!)  Ellen was a beautiful blonde who was already an accomplished actress at sixteen.  I was to watch her career unfold in films and on television and she is still acting today.  But when I met Ellen her long career was in the future and she was that talented girl I went to high school with.  Why she spent her senior year in Sarasota, I was never to know, but she made an indelible impression on all who met her.  The handsome young man in the far left of the picture played my older brother, but my feelings for him were far from sisterly.  I adored him and he  thought I was a nice kid.  Bill was charming, witty and good-looking, but he only had eyes for Ellen. I understood this, but this knowledge did not dampen my ardor.  I followed him around in a daze of unrequited teenage passion, staring at him with my big brown puppy eyes and hoping he would throw me a bone, which he occasionally did.  After all, he was used to this kind of thing.  He was so sophisticated!  So worldly (more than I knew.)  So very, very funny!  Every high school boy paled in comparison to this Greek god, not that any of them had noticed me.  Every night on stage Bill and I got laughs.  We were encircled in a warm bubble of audience approval which was quite intoxicating.  

"Weren't those kids who played the brother and sister cute?  And funny too!"
"Yes, they were darling!  But what about that girl who played the lead--she was fantastic."

Suddenly, it was closing night.  The fun was over.  The bubble had burst.  My heart was broken.  Bill was leaving for New York to become an actor!  Ellen was oddly unmoved by this tragedy.  

"Will you miss him?" I asked.  Ellen looked at me intently, but I couldn't read her expression.

"Oh, he'll be back soon; he's not that talented," she said.  I was stunned; this had not occurred to me.  "Look, I know you like him, but don't......Bill's not really....."  She looked into my face where no light was dawning.   "Don't get your heart broken."  And she walked quickly down the hall.

THE CHRISTMAS I'VE NEVER FORGOTTEN

                                                               MERRY  CHRISTMAS!

Christmas meant a great deal to my mother.  Although we never had any money, there was always a real tree loaded with ornaments, lots of tinsel and colored lights (putting on the lights was Dad's job.)  Mom sprayed fake snow on the windows and sent out a huge number of Christmas cards.  All those childhood Christmas memories have blended together over the years.  But one special Christmas morning memory is still vivid in my mind.  My middle brother, Billy, must have been eight or nine that year and he had one dollar to buy Christmas gifts for the whole family.  Naturally, he went to Woolworth, the kind of store that really doesn't exist anymore.  I forget what he gave my other brothers, Ricky and Jimmy, but my mother received a tiny black frying pan.  Since Dad loved boats, Billy had given him a big postcard showing a boat in the Gulf of Mexico.  And he had bought me a small plastic change purse.  Its transparent sides were shot through with tiny gold lines and it was filled with pale yellow tissue paper.  I was stunned.  I knew it had cost 39 cents, a huge part of my little brother's dollar.  "It's absolutely beautiful, Bill." I could hardly speak.  "And I think that's a little yellow scarf inside," he said excitedly. I lightly rubbed my fingers over the tiny purse.  "Yes, Billy, I think it is."