Learning to Sparkle

This is for you Mrs. Pat.

Southern women are known for their charm, and it does not always come naturally. In my case, it took a lot of tap and ballet lessons, watching women like my mom, grandmother and my dance teacher Mrs. Pat Gray and involvement in many social situations where as a young belle I could get a lot of practice. Most belles are sent to dance lessons, that is where we first learn to sparkle. Other lessons follow.

I began lessons at age 3, and by my first dance recital I was a dancing snowflake. Mrs. Pat said we needed to throw our shoulders back, stand upright and smile if we wanted to be a successful snowflake. If you drooped, all you could hope to be was a puddle. Dance recitals are elaborate with costumes that would make Marc Jacobs sit up and take notice. The love of costumes and dressing up has stayed with me throughout my life. I was never a professional dancer, but I know how to dress up and project a smile that I learned at the Pat Gray Academy of Dance and Gymnastics. My ballet slippers are gone, but I still throw my shoulders back when I enter a room. Once you have been a successful snowflake, you will never again settle for being a puddle.

In small Southern towns like I grew up in, the dance teacher doesn't just teach tap and ballet, there is also etiquette, manners, and what we like to call "charm" in the South that is instilled in every dance lesson. The majority of my childhood memories include dance class and the girls that I took dance class with, dressing up for dance recitals as our mothers fought to put mascara on us, which in turn, prepared me to becoming a successful Dusty (social service club, i.e. high school sorority) with full make-up and big hair for our lead-outs, head cheerleader (thanks Richelle, Mrs. Pat's daughter, for teaching me to flip), successul public relations practitioner for many large organizations and the ultimate, a proper Southern bride.

Mrs. Pat is celebrating her 54th dance recital this year where many of her students children and grandchildren will be dancing lollipops and hopefully there will be many snowflakes. I have not pirouetted in years, but my dance lessons prepared me for the life of a proper southern belle and for the patience and unconditional acceptance of Mrs. Pat, I am forever thankful. Congratulation on 54 years and thank you for making a difference in my life.

The Park Wife

My first tiara, so what if it was made out of sequins, I was a princess at age 3.

Tap dancing my way through life, with another tiara, silver this time.

Cheerleading in a southern town is very important. Most of the other girls envied you, it was hard work when you went to cheer competition at summer camp, and Friday night football is a way of life in the South.

Still dancing in high school, um, where was my tiara?????

My ultimate crowning moment, marrying Big Buckaroo, the man of my dreams.

Our first dance, thank goodness I was prepared from all of my years at the Pat Gray Academy of Dance and Gymnastics!

How I Became a "Society Girl"

Now, before I tell you this, let me assure you that this is not fiction; I do wish at times some of it was. All the girls from my town in Mississippi could not wait until the summer prior to their sophomore year in high school because you could become part of a “social service club”. Well, let’s just call it what it really is, a high school sorority. Now, in my town there are three clubs and they are linked to social status. So, 3 clubs-- one high-society, one mid-level hard-working folk’s daughters, and the bottom one was well, the bottom one. Now, that does not mean that everyone in the high-society one was from very wealthy families but most were and the others were raised as if they were. So, the summer of your sophomore year you sit and wait for “pick-up day”. That is the day when the club members come to your house, pick you up and take you to the home of one of the members. You are then invited to pledge or “rat”, yes, I said rat, because here is where southern irony comes in. You are going to become a member of a club that announces you into society and you will spend your high school years as a member helping others in the community, but before you can do that you will be treated like a mere rat. This is a primer for becoming a belle, you must go through some hard stuff before you can earn the belle title, I guess this is where they get Steel Magnolia. This training is crucial when you have to roll up your sleeves to help Tara from not falling into ruin or you have to throw a dinner party for 8 with only thirty minutes notice... whatever (I am rolling my eyes here). So, you spend the summer pledging which means you are at the whim of all the members and there are even ratting parties where you have to wear ratty old clothes, be berated by the members, and horrible rotting nastiness from the members refrigerators is poured all over you. Not to mention some of the mean member’s favorite things to do were to put either maple syrup or Vaseline all in your hair. Sometimes when we drive by chicken houses the aroma makes it all come back to me. At this point you are saying, why in the world would someone go through that to be part of a club. Well, as an adult I have asked myself that numerous times, but, that was just part of becoming a member of this exclusive club you had desired to be a part of since you were little and you could get through the berating and nastiness by thinking about the beautiful dresses you would wear to the formals and all the fun you would have at other socials. Oh yeah, and the good you would do for all the unfortunate people in the community (part of the motto, I don't think I really helped out much in those years - that is a regret). So, six weeks of buying member’s presents, being degraded, memorizing and reciting an entire club constitution, and so much more, then you go through Hell Night. Well, this is where they just pour more stuff all over you, you are lying on the ground while they do this. They yell horrible things at you, there is alot of screaming going on, this skill has come in handy when in traffic in Memphis at times, but that is about it. I know it is crazy. So, the next day is Instillation Day, you put on your beautiful white dress and become a member. The white dresses are pretty, but our Vaseline soaked hair had much to be desired. But, now we were part of the group, part of this exclusive "group". We had made it through! I think by sharing this I have broken some type of code, I guess I will not be invited to any socials anytime soon, thank goodness because I have not worn a white dress since my wedding.

It is all very silly to me now, my mother and grandmother raised me to be a proper lady, no club could give that to me nor would I let it take it away. Some of the older gilrs were wonderful and I would have loved to have been better friends with them, I really looked up to them. If I had it to do all over again...

The Lord knew to give me a house full of boys because I would have never gone through that stuff with a daughter. Plus, we don't have many debutante balls at a state park (we do have many queens around here though) Little Buckaroo has exceptional manners and is already opening doors (when they are not too heavy) for me and other women. My husband has always treated me like a lady not because he felt obligated but because he respected and admired the lady that I am. Or, try to be. On even days of the month, except when I am tired and am out of coffee.

This is from my senior year. Nice braces and big 80's hair, huh? Oh, but I did love the dresses.

Walking in Mississippi

As we pulled in to my Mississippi hometown for Thanksgiving last week, feelings of nostalgia overcame me as they always do when I travel "home". I am an seventh generation southerner and I have lived all over Mississippi and Arkansas, in Florida, Memphis, TN and Austin, TX and let it be said now, I love being a southern belle.

That was not always the case, at times I was offended that there were parts of the country that thought we still did not own shoes and were uneducated. So, I set out when I entered college to prove them all wrong. At the University of Southern Mississippi, I began as a broadcast journalism major, who had not seen Broadcast News or Up Close and Personal and thought they could be a news reporter? So, I worked on “losing” my southern accent and somewhat succeeded. But, then I changed my major to Public Relations and was happy to reacquire the molasses dipped sweetness of a Mississippi debutante accent – it did not take long. Sometimes it takes growing up a bit to appreciate what you have.

In addition to the geography - beautiful mountains, rolling hills, cotton fields of the delta, marshes, swamps, bluffs and of course beautiful beaches- one of the things I love about being a southerner is the diversity of our accents and our humorous colloquialisms – which I am sure you will be hearing throughout my blog. Why do you think so many great writers are Southern? We love our language. I recommend A Glossary of Southern Accents if you get a little befuzzled.

So, for everyone’s information, I do own AND wear shoes, some very nice ones and too many my husband says. In addition, I am college educated and have CHOSEN to be a stay-at-home mom. I do see the negatives of living in the South, but can’t everyone find a negative where they are if the look? I choose to enjoy, focus on and relish the beauties of this place called the South and am proud to be one of its Belles.

Now, with this all said, I can’t wait to tell you about growing up in the South and how freakin’ funny some of this stuff is. Also, I am very excited about the holidays, I will be sharing some of my simple decorating tips and recipes that will wow all your guests this holiday season. Stay tuned!

Here is a picture of me and a picture of my hot husband with the boys. And, yes, I do have a great story to tell about meeting and marrying this awesome man.

The Park Wife

Big Buck and the Buckaroos