Secret Pop

May 14, 2002

Happy Birthday to Me

My father gave me a birthday card. here are some of the things he wrote:

"I wasn't there with you and your mom when you entered this world, but I'll bet you came with a smile on your face and alert to the fact that everyone listened when you had something to say. I'm not sure if it's nostalgia or just a natural tendency to think of your children as being little ones again on their birthdays -- even though they are indeed grown men and women. Whatever the case, both your mom and I thought of the Christmas when you WERE Mrs. Beasley!"

The rest of the card was very sentimental and loving and generously punctuated with exclamation points.

This is my first school picture. Mary in kindergarten in Norfolk, Virginia. I remember this dress. It was made of polyester and was somewhat rough to the touch -- a crepey fabric. And there was a pastel flower embroidered on the breast. It was short and flirty and showed my knobby little knees. And I wore buckled shoes and stockings. My hair looks very red in this picture. And I am mischievously covering up the fact that all four of my front teeth are missing.

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