Oct. 27, 2021


Once I kissed a porcelain toilet and its seat.  The memory still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It was part of my initiation into The Pollyanna Club, Pine Bluff High School’s elite social club for girls.

The initiation requirement of—hugging, licking, and kissing the toilet was designed, exclusively, with me in mind. When I accepted the invitation to join Pollyanna, I didn’t expect the “initiation from Hell.”

Probably the nastiest part of my initiation came when members broke dozens of eggs over my head and forced me to roll in a poop-filled chicken yard.

Eventually I got home, stripped at the back door, and raced to the bathroom. Our house didn’t have a shower so I spent hours in the bathtub, scrubbing, rinsing--changing the water again and again—all in a desperate attempt to feel clean again.  Too bad I couldn’t scrub away the memories of that day—or rinse away the names of those who took super-great pleasure in bullying me.

Concerned for my health, my Daddy insisted I see the Doctor. He knew it was unsafe for me to be licking and fondling toilets, rolling in barnyard excrement, and swallowing whatever mysterious “concoctions” I’d been forced to drink. My daddy, who loved and protected me at all times--- couldn’t understand why I needed to be part of a female organization with such mean and spiteful members.

While, on the other hand, my mother ridiculed me for being a whiney-baby and a sore loser.