Let us begin in the woods. My safety zone was a small stretch of land that had not yet been claimed by developers. An escape from the battlefield of my parents home front. Incoming! When voices were raised in anger, my internal warning system would blare. Bounding out the door, over the dead end side walk, moving towards a quieter location. The neighbors perceived all that lay beyond the cul-de-sac as nothing more than a scrappy, swampy waste land. They could not be bothered to explore it. I rarely invited company. The pack of children who lived on our street would never see or hear me cry. I did not want to be found and once I was deep in the forest my wish was to remain silent, to not startle the birds into flight.
One day after school, walking on the main trail, I heard branches crack. Looking up, I saw a girl accompanied by two boys on the path, coming my way. They were older and within seconds of them spotting me conspiratorial glances were exchanged. I anticipated a verbal hazing, but thought it best to stay on the path. Maybe a nod in passing would draw mercy. I was wrong. At the moment of intersection, the girl put her hands to her cheeks in mock-hysteria and screamed "it's John Lennon!" I was horrified. I did not nod, I did not look back. I just kept walking as they kept laughing.
John Lennon. Not what a 13 year old girl wants to hear. I could not bear to think that I looked like a man and a not so classically attractive one. It did not help that my hair had been cut short that summer after I got a mouthful of bubble gum stuck in it, or that I sported a pair of wire frame oval shaped glasses that topped a beak shaped nose. I later had my nose fixed at 18, egged on by the adults around me, who thought this particular alteration would increase my self confidence. It didn't, but that is another story.
photograph © Chirasak Tolertmongkol | Dreamstime.com
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