July 1, 2004
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The Gang's All Here
Well, this is my crew. Yesterday morning, they woke up feisty from the sleepover of the night before. Mom and I were bleary eyed and dragging. So we took a vote and decided to let the people at the Duck Inn cook breakfast. See that black van in the background? After I snapped this photo the boys ran to find their seats and it looked like something out of a slapstick comedy. The whole back end of the van was bobbing up and down.
There is much I have enjoyed about my time in Arkansas. June was one of the wettest summer months I can ever recall spending here. The lawns and gardens are green and lush, fat with big drops of water. The morning dew is so heavy that it feels like rain even when no rain is falling. I was wishing that we'd be going back to the park pretty much every day this week, but it's looking like rain again today, so I'll have to find some indoor fun. Although ... it is a nice WARM rain - maybe I'll take the kids to play putt putt golf. Talk about your water traps.
Last night I saw a woman I haven't seen in 25 years. I graduated high school with her daughter, not a close friend, but a girl I spent time with and liked. Tracie and I aspired to different lives. She desperately wanted to be a cheerleader, but was so quiet in temperament and deportment that even though she finally made the squad it was never a good fit. I loved cheering, went to all the games, but I never wanted to be a cheerleader, because I had too much fun as a spectator. (Plus, my boyfriend was in the band, and during the third quarter of every game we recklessly flirted with the possibility of demerits for a Public Display of Affection with our not quite hand holding ...)
Tracie's mother was also at every game. Wanda was a bold dark eyed beauty with an air that said she knew exactly what men were thinking as she walked by. When we were in junior high school, she informed Tracie that the man she called father, wasn't her biological dad. Several days later, she informed her husband of the same news. I still remember the days between the announcements being filled with tears and the trauma of teen aged girls in possession of adult news and information without any real wisdom for handling it.
By the time we began our freshman year, a quiet divorce had taken place. Apparently, the marriage couldn't stand that much truth. Over the next three years we watched relationships bloom and fade as the newly single Mom (a much more rare creature then than now) grew into her own. Finally she remarried a man several years her junior, and really upset the town wags. Wanda caught the coach. Steve was a big handsome man with the kind of personality that made everyone want to be his friend. I remember that the gossips said she wasn't good enough for him, and surprisingly to me, the catty remarks that she and Tracie had to endure increased rather than fading after this marriage. I saw my friend become more quiet and more withdrawn in the face of raised eyebrows and remarks about apples and trees. She didn't even try out to be a cheerleader for our senior year.
Some women might have bowed to pressure to conform to the standards of their community. Not Tracie's mom. She dressed in sexy (but not slutty) clothing and wore her fingernails long with bright red polish. She drove a sexy little car. She didn't strut, exactly, but the way she walked was a thing of grace and beauty that I've never come close to copying.
I haven't thought about Wanda much over the years. Last night she came into the bookstore. An attractive, quiet older woman who asked me about a new release and purchased two hardbacks. I didn't recognize her until she handed me her license and I read the address. The most notorious woman in town has become a much tamer kitten with the softening influence of years. She's still beautiful. And when I looked at her closely, I saw more of Tracie than I'd ever found in her face before. I wonder now whether she regrets the way she lived her life or whether she would do it all again. I wonder what kind of relationship she has with her daughter. I just wonder ...
Comments (14)
It's pretty traumatic to have your parents split in high school, much less under such circumstances. I wonder where Tracie is now?
I bet you would of loved to ask Wanda lots of questions, I know I would have!
This is the kind of drama that plays out in just about any small town. Ironically, you can nearly escape it by moving to a metro area. It's possible to find nearly complete anonymity in a big city. Of course that does have its consequences......!
I always wonder things like that too....
That's how it is here too...small towns...
Excellent writing
Is this part of the upcoming memoir
I don't think Wanda did anything wrong, I just think her timing was terrible. I hope she made it up with her daughter, I suppose that would depend on what kind of mother she had actually been before she blurted out 'the truth' and how she tackled the flak since.
small world out there
Interesting!
o/ 
God Bless - Dale
Nicely written!
Oh -- MY. Did you acknowledge you knew her? What a conversation that would be. You need to write it, whether or not it actually occured!
Well I am personally familar with the situation. Tracy works for my dad at a local bank. AS far as Wanda and her daughter they have made up. I think at times the relationship has been strained but it is healed.
Incredible characters. Really well written too. Those boys look like a pack of fun (and trouble!).
what an incredibly thoughtful perspective... totally NOT surprising
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