Saturday, June 13, 2009

Table dancing

I've always wanted to begin my life story with "I was born a poor white child to sharecropper parents".  You know, trying to be funny and all.  Now that I look at some of the old pictures, I'm not too sure that wasn't closer to the truth than I thought.  This is me at 3 years old and the family has gone on a picnic (we went on A LOT of picnics and day trips) to Wet Canyon on Graham Mountain.  Other times, when my imagination runs wild, I would like to think that in 1957, paper bag dancing on table tops was all the rage and at the tender age of 3 I had shown a great proficiency at it.  We would travel the country and I would support the entire family dancing for tips and baskets of food.  That's my 4th pair of striped shoes, (having worn out the previous three pair in dancing marathons) and I don't know how many paper bags I've gone through.  In reality, that's probably how I was dressed for the day and most likely Dad put the bag on my head and told me to smile at the camera.  At this point I was the baby of the family and I was still in that stage of being the center of attention (somewhat).  Sadly, you're only cute for so long.  


  1. YOu know you're not cute any more when your brothers and sisters starting beating the living daylights out of you.

  2. I'll see in an upcoming post.