Mar. 7, 2022

IF YOU COULD READ MY MIND---

I was never anxious to “GROW UP.”  I never yearned to be ALL-GROWN-UP--and look and act older. In fact, when I was a teenager, I had no interest in knowing about a Drinking Age, or a Voting Age, or a Coming-of-Age, OR-- whatever age gave you permission to be an Adult.  I was perfectly-happy to simply be ME---at every age.

When I was younger---I was often told I looked older.  Maybe it was because I was taller than most girls my age, that I sang solos, had good posture, and "presented" myself with confidence.  I also know my older “appearance” prompted one particular adult to resent me---every time I bought my ticket to the Movie Theatre.

Nothing scared me more than the freaky old man who took movie tickets at the Saenger Theatre in my hometown of Pine Bluff. He looked like an overweight 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--how he'd once performed on the Saenger's stage--in the days of Vaudeville—the days 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.

Week after week, he scolded me, always-threatening 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 thirteen---Dolf Kastor, the Theatre’s ticket-taker, 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 Grownups clutter their lives with un-necessary Drama, Confusion, Worrying about Other Peoples' Lives--and other Nit-Picky Crap.  No one knows how long I’ve craved simplicity.  I've always wanted to live a simple-but organized-professional life but--for too-long--I endured others controlling my life.

 Creating--- Designing--Making something pretty out of something ordinary-- still makes me happy.  And, just as I’ve enjoyed writing jingles and song lyrics, I also love expressing myself through my writing.

After all these years and STILL--- no one really knows me; no one understands me; no one gives a “damn” about my heart. But-- just maybe-- being alone with my thoughts, creations, writings, and memories--- is the way my life is meant to be.

Just-Maybe I'm meant to live a secret-hidden-solitary life.  Sharing too-much with others seems to expose 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.

Simply, Sally