IF YOU COULD READ MY MIND.
I never wanted to grow up quickly. I never yearned to be a grown-up, to look and act older. In fact, when I was a teenager, I didn't care about a drinking age, a voting age, whatever age gave you permission to be an adult.I enjoyed being me at every age.
Maybe it was the fact I was tall, had good posture, and always "presented" myself with confidence. Maybe how I looked, prompted some to resent me. Unknowingly, I intimidated a few adults as a child.....a child paying a child's fare at the movies.
Nothing scared me more than the freaky older man who took movie tickets at the Saenger Theatre in my hometown of Pine Bluff. He looked like a live cadaver in a dark suit--- his face covered in orange-colored pan-cake makeup--- and wearing his usual air of superiority. He enjoyed telling newcomers to the theatre that he'd once performed on the Saenger's stage....back in the days of Vaudeville, when he was a famous star.
What particularly bothered me was the way he grabbed my arm every time I handed him my movie ticket. He scolded me, threatened to report me to the local police for impersonating a much-younger person. It was a humiliating experience.
From the age of nine until I finally turned 13 yrs old--Dolf Kastor-- the ticket-taker (apparently a closet gay) insisted I was older than I claimed; that I was trying to cheat the theatre by lying about my age. It was only after my father took my birth certificate to the Theatre's Manager, Bruce Young, that the ticket-taker stopped singling me out as a "juvenile delinquent".
My entire life, I've watched people clutter their lives with unneccesary Drama, Confusion, and Worthless Details. No one knows how I crave simplicity. I've always wanted to live an easy, organized life, but few ever learned that about me.
Creating, making something pretty out of something ordinary, still makes me happy. And, just as I enjoy writing jingles and song lyrics, I also love expressing myself by writing words.
After all these years and still.... no one knows me; no one understands me; no one sees my heart. But, just maybe, being alone with my thoughts, desires, writing, and memories, is the way my life is meant to be. Maybe I'm suppose to live a secret-hidden-solitary life. Sharing too-much with others would-surely open me to more critics, more fakes, more phonies, and more ticket-takers.
At least now....no one accuses me of lying about my age in order to buy a cheaper ticket.
Maybe--at last--I've come "of-age".