Pomp and Circumstance
Pomp and circumstance, formal dress and ballroom dance classes. None of these make me jump for joy. Why must I participate in this? I don’t know any of these kids. OK, so I have to do this because… it’s tradition. Whose??? My controlling mother answers, “Because your cousin Judy is becoming a debutante”. Well, good for her, I may be just a kid but I’m smelling an ulterior motive here. My Mother wants to show the Brewer side of the family that we, the black sheep of the clan, are just as good as thems that own the Hardware store and bank. guess what??I’m chosen to do this.
So,Off we go to buy a fluffy multi layered tulle gown with a satin bodice embedded with rhinestones and lots of lace. Gawd awful looking scratchy and uncomfortable. My curly hair is formed into banana curls tied up in a ponytail and fastened with a big bow. All for the ballroom dance classes at St Thomas Church in a part of town where I don’t know any of the participants. I’m feeling like a poodle dressed up parading around a dog show.
Here is My controlling mothers plan. I’m to attend formal ballroom dance class for pre-debutants with my snotty cousin Judy, two years my senior, who will introduce me to her friends. Nope, she sticks her nose up in the air, turns her back on me. I’m feeling anxious, uneasy and very much alone. Who’s going to choose me as a dance partner, I look silly, all these kids seem to know each other. I’m the last to be paired up with a kid who looks just as lost. He’s shorter and ill at ease. So it’s…. A one.A two. A three. Is this the Lawerence Welk show? We curtsey, we twirl, we glide, we sway. Not so much with us, we are the clutz dancers of this well oiled group.
After a few classes it’s obvious this is not going to work for Mother. I have no sence of rhythm and am clearly miserable. So, she backs off. This is not a good plan for her to ingratiate herself into her in-laws family. Where she's never been acceptable and I’m just not Debutant material.
But wait…I’m getting ahead of myself here. The underlying story is….. my parents were childhood sweethearts through grade and high school. Mother set her cap on becoming a member of my father’s family. It didn’t happen. They disliked her and her phony ways from the get-go. Talking about her fine French background and beautiful clothing made with imported fabrics. Anything to impress Dad’s family. Years after her death I traced her father to New Jersey and her mother never saw France. Mother just suffered from ‘delusions of grandeur” as my dad put it. Anything to be accepted by her sweetheart’s family. But, to her disappointment my father was not allowed to marry his childhood sweetheart; another was chosen. I believe if he married his sweetheart he would not have inherited the bank. That was the deal and his inheritance. My father lost the bank during the depression. The arranged marriage ended. My parents eventually got together. At last, she’s a Brewer…but still not accepted. My brother and I were never treated the same way the other cousins and family members.
Looking back both were dealt bad hands to begin with. Once married They remained inseparable until death. There was never room for us kids growing up. I guess that's why when I was given a matched set of luggage for graduation I used it to move into the City to make my own way in the world, far too young without supervision. Leaving many stories to be continued….so stay tuned.