A Story For Gazhekwe, Tponetom
A CHUBBY LITTLE GIRL.
Foreword, [[or Forewarning!) 1.
The following may contain material that some people may regard as silly or idle or simply
idiotic. Be that as it will. Hopefully, some will find it to have the same efficacy as a prayer, in
that, if only for a few minutes it will take your mind off of more serious things.
MY WIFE, MY LIFE, MY LIGHT,
Chubby little girls in grade school have a hard way to go. I base that observation on the
conduct of malicious little boys. Cruel remarks, ridicule and scorn are the tools they employ.
Perhaps the most ignominious attitude is totally ignoring or, otherwise, not acknowledging the
existence of the little girl. I have documented proof of these remarks. All boys are especially
critical of chubby little girls.
Seven houses down the block from our home on McClellan, there lived a chubby little
girl. For seven long years she was invisible to the male population of that neighborhood. It was
an era of extreme chauvinism. She had a very pretty face, beautiful long brown hair and bluer
than blue eyes. But nevertheless, she WAS chubby, and that fact negated all of her good points.
She was ignored.
The spring of ‘44 found me waiting the end of my High School sophomore year. I was
starting to vacillate on my vow of becoming a great lover and began thinking about a monastery.
There were certain dangers in going to an all boys school. Especially one that was administered
by the Christian Brothers.
2.
Early that spring I wandered down the block to the four family flat on the corner, seven
houses from ours. It was early evening time. Standing on the corner was a lithesome young girl.
Her head was turned away from me as I approached. I could not recognize the outline of her
body as familiar. As I drew nearer, she turned, and as I looked at her, I thought, “Dear God,
please don’t let me wet my pants.” Lyrics from The Trolley Song, said it all. “She looked so
lovely that it scared me half to death.”
Wanting to make an immediate and lasting impression, I assumed the demeanor of the
‘strong, silent type.’ I did not say a word, and with eyes staring straight ahead, I continued
walking and almost fell on my ‘ass’ when I misjudged the curb. Not very much later I would
regard that ‘demeanor’ as the strong, stupid type. !
That first ethereal vision has stayed with me all of my life. She was soulfully thin. Her
wan appearance made whatever emotions I was feeling, turn limp. There was a slight yellowish
cast to her complexion. Her hair was in pigtails. I had never in my life paid attention to
anyone’s eyes until that moment. The tightness of her facial skin emphasized her blue, doleful
eyes that seemed overly large.
For some months, Margaret K. had suffered from Hepatitis. It was usually referred to as
Yellow Jaundice because of the symptoms. This had been her first day outside in over three
months. The illness had eliminated her chubbiness.
I continued my walk, trying to inhale enough air to help slow my racing heart.
Instantly, the romantic agenda for the rest of my life was set. But there would be complications
and hurdles to overcome.
For the next few weeks or so, my head was in the clouds, but I was dragging my feet. Of
a sudden, I was brought back down to earth with a thud. There, walking down the street, hand in
hand, was my best buddy Tommy and the new and permanent love of my life, Margaret, aka,
Peggy.. While I was counting my options, Tommy was courting. The balance of that year turned
out to be a waste, almost. Tommy began flirting with another girl in the neighborhood and I
encouraged him mightily. After all, I was his best friend. Also, I was on a monosyllabic
speaking basis with Peggy by now. Witty things, like, “Hi.” Or when I got really talkative and
said, “Hel-lo.” [[Two syllables.)
Tommy self destructed by his prolific philandering and I made my move by asking Peggy
to our Junior Prom. It was not easy, asking her. I had to make a conscious effort to put Bernie
Joseph out of my mind. [[Bernie was the kid who would wet his pants when ever he got nervous.)
But I did ask her and she accepted and that was that.
After we became a twosome, a very chagrined Tommy came up to me and said, “You
know, I never realized that you liked Peggy.”
With a straight face and staring him right in the eye, I said, “Tommy, honest to God I
never gave her a thought until a week or so before I asked her to the Prom.” Like Damon and
Pythias, I thought to myself, “Better me than him.”
I never did propose to her. At her 16th birthday party I made a casual remark prefaced by
the phrase, “After we are married” It was already a ‘fait accompli’. She just didn’t know it at
the time.
pictures
More pictures in the saga of Tom and Peggy
Here are some pictures from the time when Tom and Peggy were getting married or had recently been married. Tom and Peggy will enjoy your comments, please feel free to come in.
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