Crazy Puppet Girl

Some of the real joys of adulthood, aside from responsibility, paying bills, and working for a living, include figuring out what crap from childhood needs to be purged so that the true essence in each of us can come forth.

When I was a little girl powerful people (parents, teachers, older kids) would impart wisdom and sometimes sundry comments without realizing that perhaps I was tucking that particular remark away and would make an important decision that would influence me for years and years.

One afternoon when I was in 2^nd grade the teacher had each student make a paper bag puppet. We were provided with small brown paper bags, glue, bits of paper and scrap material, buttons and other odds-n-ends. I made a girl puppet with long brown hair that I braided out of some silky strand material, big blue eyes of velvet with long black lashes, satin pink lips, and a lovely pink dress with a white collar and white matching buttons down the middle. There was some pink tulle so I made a cute little hat with a veil of the tulle. I was having so much fun being creative that I didn’t realize the teacher was going to have a contest to determine the best boy and best girl puppet. All of the students voted on their favorite. Mine won for the girls. I was shocked and amazed. When it finally hit me that I won something I was ecstatic. I hadn’t ever won anything before. When school was out I ran home to tell mom my very exciting news. Her reply, “Nobody likes a bragger.”

If there was a black hole that I could have thrown myself into I would have. I was devastated and felt so stupid. Why didn’t I know that if I was good at something that nobody would like me? Oh my God, I was going to end up a lonely old lady with nothing but cats to keep my company. No one would ever be my friend or want hang out with me. Kids at school would beat me up. Life as a seven year old ended and I knew from that moment on I had to be just o.k., average. Heaven forbid I ever do something that I could “win” at again. Goodness is that punishable by death? I sure didn’t want to find out. What if I accidentally did something well? Would that be o.k.? I wouldn’t tell anyone, not ever! I promise.

I found religion in the back yard under the pear tree that afternoon. I spoke to God, inside my head of course, lest someone heard me and figured I was “off” like Mrs. Miller down the street. Bad enough no one would like me cause I made a puppet, so I sure wasn’t about to become crazy puppet girl. I asked God, begged, pleaded, promised and made many deals to please, please just let me average, simple, ordinary, easy to overlook. I figured that was the only way I’d be able to survive. I had many friends and I liked them. I wouldn’t dare risk losing them all cause I could make a pretty puppet. Much better to just be a puppet. God must have heard my silent pleas for I lived a very ordinary adolescence.

I was a good student, but not too good. When it came to art class I tried so hard to just do what everyone else was doing. If the other girls were drawing ponies, I drew a pony, but just an average pony. Who needs unicorns or a beautiful flying Pegasus? Castles in the background, big fluffy clouds, and magical trees with happy dancing mice in them would only win me a life of isolation. Nope, I saw how miserable Mrs. Miller was and she didn’t even have any cats! I refused to end up like that, friendless, petless, with only green grass to keep me company. No thanks.

Years later in high school art class I forgot my deal with God. I also had forgotten about God too. Monday morning we’d be given a task and we had till Friday to complete it. That particular week’s project was the: Telephone. How boring is that? Mind you, this was long before cell phones existed or even the internet. I had to draw a phone and yet make it interesting as per the teacher’s instructions. All week I asked my friends what they had drawn, “Nothing. How do you make a phone interesting? What a dumb assignment. I’m not even sure I’m going to do it.” Dang, it’s Thursday night and I haven’t sketched a thing yet. Finally in a mad dash I drew a phone in the center of the page with a curly cord cascading down into the right hand corner. The rest of the page I dissected into little cartoon like scenarios. In each scene was a different person having a conversation. Each scene had a bubble: “Guess who I saw kissing!”

“I’m on the phone!”

“No! He didn’t. Really? With her?”

“What did you draw for this week’s art assignment?”

And other such silly things. As was custom every Friday morning in class we had to turn in our assignment on the main table so the rest of the class could see. For some reason everyone was commenting on mine. They LOVED it; they even thought it was cool. The “cool” people even thought it was cool. For a moment I felt excited and proud. Then my mind raced back to 7 years ago when I was 7 and… the dreadful puppet moment. I quickly closed the note pad and handed it to the teacher and went to work on my in-class project in the corner, alone.

Fortunately this was high school and once your clique, or as in my class lack of a clique, is established you can not ever transgress the lines of popularity. My moment of glory was soon forgotten and everyone started working on their in-class projects and completely forgot the drawing and me. Whew, that was a close one.

However, now as an adult I want to move past mediocrity. I have finally come to understand that when someone says something they may not realize the impression it is making on another. More importantly I now realize that I don’t have to let some silly comment from over 20 years ago continue to hold me back. I’m no longer crazy puppet girl. I’m just a girl.