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“Life would be fabric-softener, tuna-salad-on-white, PTA-meeting normal.”
― Augusten Burroughs, Running with Scissors
The movie was in black and white and in Polish with subtitles. It was about a Jewish girl who had been left at a convent orphanage as an infant and raised Catholic with no knowledge of her background. As a novitiate about to take her vows in the Sisterhood , she is called to the Mother Superiors office and told about her one surviving relative, an aunt that has declined to answer any correspondence from the Convent. The Mother urges the reluctant orphan to visit her aunt before she takes her vows. Though at first resistant to the idea she concedes to the Mother Superiors entreaties.
The cinematography is soft shades of grey and shadows, the vehicles ancient Ladas and Trabants the color of old chalk. But the scene that jarred my memory and inspired this post, though consistent with the mood and hue was a single scene. Her fellow novitiates pull down a scuffed leather valise that is wrapped with a strap to keep it closed. I rewound to watch the scene again. As she carried her ragged satchel to the car not a soul looked back. There were no billboards, no name brand apparel, no jewelry or makeup. No one paid her any attention. It was not much different from the world of my childhood……just less joyous.
I started buying my own clothes when I was 13. I delivered the Detroit News to N. Edison and a small section of Campbell Ave. It varied between 26 and 45 papers a day. I probably made $5.00 a week for working 7/365. To get a day off I had to get my brother or a neighborhood friend to substitute for me. When I came down with Rheumatic Fever for the second time, my brother David took over my route for over two months. He was always covering my back (well one out of two ain’t bad). when I started attending Helen Keller J.H. I began to notice the difference between my threads and the uptown kids. I was used to hand me down – hand me downs. Families in The First Baptist donated clothes that my brothers wore first and then me. It was never a problem running through St. Dennis woods or Kenwood Park but when I started taking notice of Susie Benny and Judy Renfro, I didn’t want to look like Joe Shit the Ragman (Actually I didn’t make Joe’s acquaintance until 9 years later. JS the RM is a military term for a sloppy dresser or a shitbird.) I doubt Judy Redfro noticed me ….though Susie Benny did….brought on a woodie and a severe case of the stutters. So I started buying Haggar slacks for $7.99 and pegging them on my mothers sewing machine….and as skinny as I was, I had the pencil look down to a tee. There was at least one classmate a week that would split his skin tights up the heinie and be sent to the office. I never did suffer that indignity.
― Augusten Burroughs, Running with Scissors
The movie was in black and white and in Polish with subtitles. It was about a Jewish girl who had been left at a convent orphanage as an infant and raised Catholic with no knowledge of her background. As a novitiate about to take her vows in the Sisterhood , she is called to the Mother Superiors office and told about her one surviving relative, an aunt that has declined to answer any correspondence from the Convent. The Mother urges the reluctant orphan to visit her aunt before she takes her vows. Though at first resistant to the idea she concedes to the Mother Superiors entreaties.
The cinematography is soft shades of grey and shadows, the vehicles ancient Ladas and Trabants the color of old chalk. But the scene that jarred my memory and inspired this post, though consistent with the mood and hue was a single scene. Her fellow novitiates pull down a scuffed leather valise that is wrapped with a strap to keep it closed. I rewound to watch the scene again. As she carried her ragged satchel to the car not a soul looked back. There were no billboards, no name brand apparel, no jewelry or makeup. No one paid her any attention. It was not much different from the world of my childhood……just less joyous.
I started buying my own clothes when I was 13. I delivered the Detroit News to N. Edison and a small section of Campbell Ave. It varied between 26 and 45 papers a day. I probably made $5.00 a week for working 7/365. To get a day off I had to get my brother or a neighborhood friend to substitute for me. When I came down with Rheumatic Fever for the second time, my brother David took over my route for over two months. He was always covering my back (well one out of two ain’t bad). when I started attending Helen Keller J.H. I began to notice the difference between my threads and the uptown kids. I was used to hand me down – hand me downs. Families in The First Baptist donated clothes that my brothers wore first and then me. It was never a problem running through St. Dennis woods or Kenwood Park but when I started taking notice of Susie Benny and Judy Renfro, I didn’t want to look like Joe Shit the Ragman (Actually I didn’t make Joe’s acquaintance until 9 years later. JS the RM is a military term for a sloppy dresser or a shitbird.) I doubt Judy Redfro noticed me ….though Susie Benny did….brought on a woodie and a severe case of the stutters. So I started buying Haggar slacks for $7.99 and pegging them on my mothers sewing machine….and as skinny as I was, I had the pencil look down to a tee. There was at least one classmate a week that would split his skin tights up the heinie and be sent to the office. I never did suffer that indignity.
