PHOTO ESSAY, sort of: I suppose you’re wondering–or perhaps not

I suppose you’re wondering whether I’m stretching the truth like a plastic eggful of Silly Putty when I say that I had boyfriends and suitors and such like in the past. After all, you’ve most likely seen recent photos of me, and I agree, most people would not only run the other way, but would hold up crucifixes and garlic. However . . . I didn’t always look like an Irish Roseanne. (Roseanne’s lookin’ pretty good these days, actually; we saw her interviewed briefly in some news clip or another.)

Not beautiful, we all acknowledge, but not as awful as now.

Sometime in 1978 or so, freshman year in college. OMG . . . yes, everyone had wings or these little “ringlets” things, and layers. Aaaacckk! Good Lord!! But at least I never EVER had one of those fuzzy perm things, thank God, and my hair recovered successfully from the “wings” thing.

Presiding over one of the many high school parties at our house (the one Hubby and I eventually bought) . . . photo by Chuck Webb. Chuck, I was NOT the one who stuck that note on your car saying that Ann M. wanted to get back together with you, even though I answered to whatever it was that you said as you walked by entering biology class . . . it was those stupid two cronies of mine, Linda C. and Susan, and they didn’t have any better sense than to think it was a funny joke and sign it “Bubbles” or whatever. Really! I swear!

The party in full swing. Yes! Everyone had those “wall of drapes” curtains back then, and usually in avocado green, as shown! And the bean bags! OMG! If I only still had them! And you can see Mama’s electronic organ in the lower LH corner. And all her Spanish-faux-colonial decorations. Don’t you love the arches?!

With hubby sometime in the 90s, standing in front of the courtyard gate.

The famous T. C. (“Top Cat”) of Valentine’s Day carnation fame–but this was sometime during our college years. Yes, we remained friends and often went on group dates or out with our mutual friend(s) Sherman, Sam, Linda, and others. Until he got a good job and moved away somewhere. . . .

Graduation day at SMU in May 1981. Somewhere on campus.

SMU graduation day again, this time in front of the famous courtyard gate.

Showing off my diplomas (Bachelor of Science in Computer Science, Bachelor of Arts in Mathematics, minor in English Lit). This was taken by my mom just before I left for the first morning of my first job at Rockwell International. The dress was from Sears! Shut up. I had a navy linen jacket that I wore over it. No one there wore “power suits,” at least not the software engineers–only those who aspired to management. The dress was a lemon cotton/linen blend, and by day’s end, it looked like a piece of aluminum foil that somebody’d crumpled up and then pulled out of the trash. From then on, I wore Bobbie Brooks separates. Shut up. Back then, Sears and Penneys sold Bobbie Brooks, unlike now, when WalMart carries them.

And the oldest image yet, checking out the work boots of my grandpa Gerneth in their house. I remember being terrified of him, although he never did anything menacing.

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“If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, it’s just possible you haven’t grasped the situation.”~essayist Jean Kerr


Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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