Talent Show

It wasn’t until about 8 years ago, when I was retelling a heart warming story about a creepy old neighbor that gave me nectarines and in exchange I would sit on his lap, that I realized that my childhood was a little different from others.

I was born and raised in Detroit (shout out to Mexican Town and Clark Street!).  When I was about 8 we moved to Sterling Heights.  Just imagine going from Detroit Public School to the highly acclaimed (at the time) Utica Community Schools.  We went from everyone got free lunch to “what do you mean you have to pay for milk?”  A culture shock to say the least.  I can remember just feeling so out-of-place immediately.  I made friends no problem but they all seemed pretty foreign to me.  I thought a good ice breaker would be to show some of the girls one of those hand clapping games “Rockin Robin”.  It went well…that is until you get to the part where you say “eat my meat”.  Oh you don’t know that part?  Well it was the only version I knew so when the teacher tried to explain to me that it was “tweet, tweet, tweet” I stared at her blankly like she was making it up. 

Still wanting to fit in I  thought my big chance would be the school talent show.  You would have to try out in front of the class and they would vote to see if you got in.  Perfect!  Not only was I going to win over the whole school but also have everyone’s attention??  Oh yes this was going to be my shining moment.

It was a no brainer that I would dance because, even though I had never been formally trained, I was just damn good at it….at least that was what I had built up in my head.  If you watch The Middle then I was more along the lines of “Sue Heck”.  When it came to the music there was no other choice, it had to be Donna Summer.  You see my uncle Tommy was (and I belive still is) the president of her fan club.  She was like family practically.  I mean she sent him a painting of herself with real gold on it!  She has so many hits that it was kinda hard to nail it down.  When it came down to it though it was the every popular “Cats Without Claws”.  Don’t know it?  You can imagine my shock when the other 9 year olds did not know it either. It was so perfect because at that same time I had a bathing suit with a cats face on it with bedazzled eyes.  I would wear this bathing suit during my performance.

The next thing to do was to create a routine, right?  Oh no not me.  Why would I do that?  I knew the song and I was just going to go with what I felt.  Great plan.  The tryout day came along and I couldn’t have been more excited.  My super talented little brother was also trying out in his classroom and was sure to shut it down too.  The whole class gathered in the music room.  I started changing into my outfit in the bathroom.  As I was changing I was faced with a dilemma.  I could do decide whether to wear my underwear with my bathing suit or not.  It just did not seem appropriate to go without them.  I mean I was planning on some crazy good moves and it would just be embarrassing if something were to fall out.  So I put on my full coverage  undies and my “Cats Without Claws” bathing suit.

Walking in I was still super confident.  The teacher put on the music and I started to go.  As I started “dancing” around I realized that nothing was really flowing.  I felt lost.  The moves just were not coming to me as they did in the comfort of my bedroom.  I tried everything.   It was in that moment when I started to focus on the faces of my fellow classmates who just looked super confused. I tried to shrug it off and just kept going.  As I did a toe pointing with a turn and then some arm windmills and then I noticed a boy pointing, then another, and another.  I looked down and to my surprise my undies that I had crammed up under my suit were starting to fall down.  I tried to push them back up there (all the while still dancing)  but I was just making it worse.  They were now completely hanging out.  Now the whole class was pointing.  To make matters worse my sister and a friend came into the room and started to point and laugh too (THANKS SIS!).  Finally the music stopped and I was able to gather my Donna Summer tape and quickly run from the room.

Even though it was a disaster I was still sure that I was going to win because I was cool and my friends for sure were all going to vote for me right??  Little did a know that while I was changing a little adorable Asian girl from my class was bringing my class to their feet.  As I walked in there she was, she was sitting on the floor with a little plug-in organ.  She was genius.  My heart sank. Needless to say she was the 4th grade representation for the show.

So you might be thinking now is how did my brother do?  My brother was (and still is) a musical phenom.  He was such a music lover that a neighbor (who was also a Detroit cop) seen something in him and gave him a guitar that she had.  This was a very special guitar.  It had a pot leaf on it.  It was not a painting of a pot leaf but an actual pot leaf that had somehow been etched into the guitar.  My brother practiced like mad with that thing and became pretty damn good.  Oh did I mention that this guitar did not have strings?  That was not matter to my brother because he could make the guitar sounds. Of course that would be what he would do for his fellow 2nd graders.  Armed with his pot leaf guitar he walked down the hall to his class.  Though I never did get to see the performance it has become somewhat of a legend.  He preformed “The Eye Of The Tiger” not just making the guitar sounds but also singing the song as well.  I tear up just thinking about it.

That year was a big one in our household.  Although there was no Short representation that year in the Burr talent show we became a part of the schools folklore and also provided my family with many laughs (although it took about 20 years for anyone in my family to even bring it up for fear of me stabbing one of them with a fork).  I never really did ever feel like I fit in at Burr.  In 6th grade we made another move.  It was to South Warren.  About a mile from the famous 8 Mile and home to Eminem (also went to the same school as he and no I did not know of him and anyone that says they did is lying).  It did take a year or so to become acclimated.  I showed up with my hair puffed and hairsprayed and my pants penny rolled.  These girls looked tough.  The years at Burr had softened me.  I had to idea that what I should have done was tell them where I was from originally and capitalized on being the girl from Detroit.  That all didn’t matter because by the end of the school year I was brought down (or some would say beat down) a notch and became what you all know now as one bad ass bitch (think Sue Heck at 34).

I guess their is no real moral to this story.  It’s just a tiny snippet of my life growing up.  You may think “what kind of mother lets there children do these things?”  It’s the kind of mom that told her kids that they could do anything and be anything.  It’s the kind of mother that may of not had much to give to us but gave us the best thing ever …confidence.  It the kind of mother that I hope I am for my kids.  So when Clint says that he can fly I tell him that he can, and when he breaks his leg  I am blaming that shit on my mom.