So, where we last left off I was walking home from school, racking my brain trying to come up with a compelling act for my 5th-grade talent show when INSPIRATION HIT. No, it didn't just hit. It downright CLOBBERED me. As mentioned, this inspiration was stirred by the thought of my babysitting gig that night...
I was a popular babysitter with the young'uns in my neighborhood, for a couple of reasons. I let the kids stay up as late as they wanted, no matter what their parents instructed (especially if Creature Feature was on) and (short of burning the house down) I let them do whatever the hell they wanted. AND....I also happened to be....
THE SOCK PUPPET QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE!!!
SOCK PUPPETEERING sounds incredibly lame to me now, I will admit. But I tell you, once I got a good head of steam going with a convincing scenario - WATCH OUT. These kids were like putty in my sock-puppeted mitts.
I created all of my own sock puppets, of course. My mom got me started with it pretty early on - a rainy-day craft project, no doubt. But man, I took that ball and I RAN with it. I got real handy with a needle and thread, scrap material, magic markers, buttons and yarn. Had some real sharp puppet hair-do's, hats and neck-ties goin' in my day. So, make no mistake - these were not your every day sock puppets, my friend. These were sock puppets the likes of which I can almost guarantee you've never seen, and once they became ANIMATED, well...MOVE OVER, LAMB CHOP is all I can say!!
Next quandry: Which production to undertake?? The story I decided MUST BE TOLD in sock-puppet format ended up being the tale of RUMPLESTILTSKIN. One can only be left to wonder why, as you simply do not question creative genius.
That very same night, with demon fury and DURING my babysitting shift, I created sock-puppets that would put ... well.... THE WORLD'S BEST SOCK PUPPET-MAKER TO SHAME. I displayed these minor masterpieces in class the next day, explaining my mission and asking for 2 volunteers to work as my puppeteering assistants. The response was immediate: Puppets, you say? EVERY HAND SHOT UP. I quickly sussed the situation and chose a dude named Phillip whom I knew was pretty bright, as well as Lydia - yes the same Lydia who failed the singing audition with me. (For THIS, she was a shoe-in.) I found the groans of the 'losers' (who lowered their hands forlornly) oddly rewarding.
My delight could barely be contained when our teacher dug up an old puppet stage from a supply closet. Clincher: We were even provided a real MICROPHONE with a MIC STAND. MY VERY OWN MICROPHONE. I nearly orgasmed and I didn't even know what that was in the 5th grade.This was all falling into place - hell, FLYING into place as if magnetized - the shattered pieces of my heretofore sketchy grammar school existence hustling forth in hasty, miraculous repair.
How I wish this event had been videotaped, for all the right reasons (for a change). Our maiden performance of RUMPELSTILTSKIN wound up going off without a hitch, nothing short of spectacular. Our first audience were the kindergartners, 1st and 2nd-graders. They ate it up with a spoon - laughing, yelling and stamping their feet for more at curtain call.
Two more performances followed on the same afternoon (3rd & 4th grade followed by 5th and 6th). The older classes went even MORE ape-shit than the wee sprouts! An encore performance was demanded for the following day for any children who may have been out sick the day before as well as for any TEACHERS who may have missed it!!! Oh, the supernatural magic as me, Lydia and Phil linked hands and took our final bows to that last Standing O. UNPRECEDENTED SUCCESS, by anyone's standards!
* * *
My husband loves hearing this story, and I've recounted it for him quite a few times over the years as details have filtered back to me, so it's really fun to finally put it in writing. But my favorite detail by far is the coda to this tale, which took place many years after that fateful production of RUMPELSTILTSKIN...
* * *
Flash forward about 10 years, give or take: I am up at the Forest Park Bandshell (THE DOME), performing one of my first big outdoor concerts with my first REAL rock band. It is a hot-shit, AMAZING experience.
That very same night, with demon fury and DURING my babysitting shift, I created sock-puppets that would put ... well.... THE WORLD'S BEST SOCK PUPPET-MAKER TO SHAME. I displayed these minor masterpieces in class the next day, explaining my mission and asking for 2 volunteers to work as my puppeteering assistants. The response was immediate: Puppets, you say? EVERY HAND SHOT UP. I quickly sussed the situation and chose a dude named Phillip whom I knew was pretty bright, as well as Lydia - yes the same Lydia who failed the singing audition with me. (For THIS, she was a shoe-in.) I found the groans of the 'losers' (who lowered their hands forlornly) oddly rewarding.
My delight could barely be contained when our teacher dug up an old puppet stage from a supply closet. Clincher: We were even provided a real MICROPHONE with a MIC STAND. MY VERY OWN MICROPHONE. I nearly orgasmed and I didn't even know what that was in the 5th grade.This was all falling into place - hell, FLYING into place as if magnetized - the shattered pieces of my heretofore sketchy grammar school existence hustling forth in hasty, miraculous repair.
How I wish this event had been videotaped, for all the right reasons (for a change). Our maiden performance of RUMPELSTILTSKIN wound up going off without a hitch, nothing short of spectacular. Our first audience were the kindergartners, 1st and 2nd-graders. They ate it up with a spoon - laughing, yelling and stamping their feet for more at curtain call.
Two more performances followed on the same afternoon (3rd & 4th grade followed by 5th and 6th). The older classes went even MORE ape-shit than the wee sprouts! An encore performance was demanded for the following day for any children who may have been out sick the day before as well as for any TEACHERS who may have missed it!!! Oh, the supernatural magic as me, Lydia and Phil linked hands and took our final bows to that last Standing O. UNPRECEDENTED SUCCESS, by anyone's standards!
* * *
My husband loves hearing this story, and I've recounted it for him quite a few times over the years as details have filtered back to me, so it's really fun to finally put it in writing. But my favorite detail by far is the coda to this tale, which took place many years after that fateful production of RUMPELSTILTSKIN...
* * *
Flash forward about 10 years, give or take: I am up at the Forest Park Bandshell (THE DOME), performing one of my first big outdoor concerts with my first REAL rock band. It is a hot-shit, AMAZING experience.
We play for a couple of hours. At the end of the concert, I feel exhilarated as I am packing up my guitar. I feel a tap at my shoulder and I turn around to see that it’s a guy named Tommy, from grammar school days. He is actually one of the real vulgar ones that used to tease me way back when. That’s probably the only reason why I actually recognize who he is: You never forget the really mean ones.
The years have not been kind to Tommy, or rather - Tommy has not been kind to himself over the years. He’s obviously been dipping into the Angel Dust or heroin or something of that ilk. His teeth are all chipped and damaged. His skin is a wreck and his hair has thinned erratically. But he is grinning at me lopsidedly now, and for one paranoid moment I think he is going to say: “Hey – LYNNIE wit’ da TITS!”
But instead, wagging his finger at me: “Ya...you…you’re THE PUPPET GIRL…”
I stare at him blankly for a second, but then of course I know what he’s talking about. I just can’t BELIEVE he’s TALKING about it. I just give a wavering smile back and nod.
He stands there, shaky. Then he goes: “You play guitar too, huh?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Tommy: “Well, that was a really great puppet show back then. It was really funny.”
And then I watch as he stumbles off. Ole’ Mean Tommy. Not mean no more. Ole’ fucked up Tommy now, poor guy.
SO - I guess that’s all you can really ask of yourself in this life. To make people happy, and if you’re truly fortunate even entertain ‘em a little, help them to forget their troubles for awhile. If you’ve done that much, you’ve pretty much done your job. Or at least part of it.
Because you never forget the NICE ones, either.
Have a terrific weekend ~ ! * J
Did you ever ask yourself if maybe, just maybe, it was the sock puppets that drove Tommy toward a life of drug abuse?
ReplyDeleteASKED MYSELF? I thought it was a given.
ReplyDelete