When I was in the first grade, we lived in Martinsville, Indiana, a small town. Mom and Dad had friends who they played cards with all the time. Since we girls were younger than their children, they usually came over to our house to play. We Girls would be in bed, supposed to be asleep, but it sounded so fun down in the kitchen, sometimes we just had to stay awake to listen to the laughter. One of their children was a high school cheerleader. One night we went to the basketball game to watch her cheering for the team.
What my six-year-old mind remembered was that that gymnasium was minuscule! The gym was just barely bigger than the basketball court. All of us spectators were piled on top of each other in the small bleachers on either side of the door. It was loud, it was hot, and We Girls were just overwhelmed by all the activity. Our friend’s daughter was, also, having a meltdown because something was wrong with her pompom. My six-year-old mind just didn’t understand what was so important about a pompom.
All these years later I’ve wondered what happened to the high school cheerleader. Does she remember the trauma she felt that night when her pompom malfunctioned? (As I recall, she used one of her bobby pins to fix it.) Her mother seemed calm and I wonder if she learned to be calm in the face of adversity.
It’s funny the memories that pop up in our heads. I wouldn’t know this girl if she came to my front door to say Hi. I never saw her before or after that night in the gym so why did she make such an impression on me? Maybe it was her 60s hairstyle or the red lipstick. Who knows?! That moment was one of the threads of the tapestry of my life. I treasure that obscure, random memory as much as any other. Maybe someday I’ll get the rest of the story.
MDT/Diana Bowden Moore
Picture from https://archives.northwestu.edu/handle/nu/30023
