Brushes with Greatness

Like my blogmates, I wasn’t sure what kind of “child’s tales” we were supposed to talk about this week, but I’m going with memories of stories from my childhood since I think there’s some law prohibiting me from spilling about the stuff my children have done.  (Penalty is that they would banish me to the absolute worst nursing home in the world in my old age.)  I can neither verify nor dispute whether any of these tidbits actually happened, but they’re the ones which have stuck with me for all these years.

My dad shook Elvis Presley’s hand.  I’m pretty sure he’s since washed them or used hand sanitizer.

I was on TV at 5 years old.  It was the Skipper Ed (Ted? Bill? Will? Bob? Rob?  Something like that) show.  I didn’t know it was just a local gig and we didn’t have anything to record the show, but I clearly remember being there and in the on-screen live studio audience.  I’m pretty sure I wore a red dress.  I wore lots of dresses at age 5.  The twirlier the better.

Not a “childhood” brush with greatness, but I did teach at the school where some political offspring attended.  (The Bush kids back when Grandpa was president.)There were also a lot of kids with the Iglesias surname. (Julio’s kids and nieces and nephews)  Like this one…

Um, yeah.  He SOOOOO did not look like this back then.  Okay, well, he sorta did, but the  16 year old version of this.

To this day, I maintain that I did NOT kick my younger sister in the face.  You see, we were arguing which lead to fighting which lead to my realization that if it continued, I would get my butt kicked.  Yes, by my little sister.  Sad but true.  Anyhow, upon my realization of this fact, I hit her then ran (thinking I could outrun her).  At some point, I determined that plan wasn’t working so I ran into our house and down the hall.  Part way down the hall, I remembered there was no escape…thus a butt kicking was imminent.  So as I see her rapidly approaching, I kicked, hoping that would deter her.  Well she continued on until she ran into my foot still in the air (’cause it was a really good high kick).  What did she tell our mom when she got home from the grocery store?  “Mom!  Micki kicked me in the face!”  My response?  “I did not!  She ran into my foot with her face!”  AND I’M THE ONE WHO GOT IN TROUBLE!  How fair is that?

My older sister insulted Ronnie Van Zant, the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd, when she was about 5.  (I may or may not have been in existence then because she’s five years older than me.)  Back before the band was big, Ronnie lived in my hometown and often came to my dad’s auto machine shop.  Our house was located at the end of a long dirt road and Dad’s shop was at the front near the main road, so as kids, we often hung out at the shop.  Dad had a Coke machine and cartoons wouldn’t come on TV until 4:00 after Mom’s soap operas, so the shop was a lot more entertaining to us “rug rats”.  This was back when my sister hadn’t seen too many males with long hair.  So Ronnie’s in there talking to my dad about crankshafts and engines and whatnot and my sister is yanking on Dad’s pant leg, “Daddy.  Daddy.  Daddy….”  Like many parents back then, Dad wasn’t keen on kids interrupting adult conversation, so he ignored her.  But she continued on.  “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy….”  When there was finally a break in the conversation for my dad to acknowledge her pestering, she pointed right at Ronnie and asked, “Is that a boy or a girl?”  Dad said Ronnie had a good laugh about it, but she still gets teased about it on occasion.

Anyhow, enjoy a little “Freebird” in honor of my sister’s ability to insult up-and-coming rock stars. (If I copied the link right.)

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