Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Alphabet Soup - P

One of my most memorable childhood friends was a girl named Patty Caswell. She lived in the house behind me - our backyards separated by an old chain link fence. Patty's mom was an avid movie fan and styled Patty's hair after Shirley Temple's. I was in awe of Patty's hair. To me it was like a miracle of pincurls, hairspray and a mother living vicariously and somewhat desperately, through her child.

Patty was, at heart, what we use to call a tomboy - a term that is (thankfully) becoming obsolete as girls are not only encouraged but are expected to play in the mud and get dirty. But Patty's mother would have none of it. Patty wasn't allowed to do much more than sit on her porch swing in her pincurls and patent leathers and look pretty.

I don't know if her mother was hoping that a Hollywood Talent Scout would drive by and discover Patty, which would have been the biggest event ever to happen in my home town (unless of course you count the murder/suicide in 1923 when a man killed his wife and seven children before turning the gun on himself).

I think what Patty really longed for was escape - from her pincurls - from her porch swing and most of all - from her mother.

Once in awhile I would go up and visit with Patty when she sitting on her porch swing. We weren't allowed to do much - but we would play "Go Fish" or drink kool-aid from the tea set her mother kept on the porch. This was entertaining for about a half hour and then the urge to run or ride my bike would be too great and I'd say my goodbyes while Patty waved wistfully from her swing.

By the time we got to high school - Patty had outgrown her pincurls and any chance that she would be a child star so her mother decided it was time to switch gears and do the next best thing: try and help Patty land a good husband.

Gone were Patty's pincurls - replaced by a carefully quaffed updo that accentuated her eyes and the pearl earrings her mother made her wear.

Now Patty would sit on her front porch in a stylish, yet feminine dress, with her updo and just a whiff of floral perfume and wait for a handsome, rich doctor to drive by and marry her.

There really wasn't any reason for me to visit her anymore as we had absolutely nothing in common and I was too busy chasing boys to sit on her porch and wait for one to stumble upon us.

After graduation, Patty's mother sent her off to college in hopes of capturing that rich husband, but Patty returned, husbandless and with a degree in home economics that landed her a teaching job at an all girl Catholic High School. There she met the love of her life - a woman named Wanda - a relationship that sent her mother to her grave and spelled freedom (at last) for Patty.

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