I saw her in the 4-H parade in Atmore. I saw her picture in the Mobile Press Register leading the high school band down Government street during Mardi Gras, I saw her picture in LIFE leading a band in New York City for the St. Patrick's Day parade. She was the most beautiful girl in all creation.
MAJORETTE
She strutted and twirled and smiled through gleaming Ipana whitened teeth and lips outlined and glowing with Helena Rubinstine candy apple red lipstick.
Huge hat with fluttering feathers held by gold braiding, chin strap holding it all on top of Breck Girl curls.
She stopped the marching band to twirl and throw that baton to high heaven.
She turned and twirled that baton behind her back. She stopped and did that pose of arms pointing to heaven and earth, baton in one hand while she stood on one foot with the other leg bent at the knee and that tasseled boot pointed toe downward.
Legs right out of Hollywood.
Betty Grable worthy up to there.
Legs all backyard tanned while lathered up with Johnson & Johnson baby oil and iodine.
She stopped hearts.
Boys hearts.
My heart.
I planned to learn how to twirl a baton, join the W. S. Neal marching band and lead the band onto the football field during halftime while all eyes were on me, just me.
I could hear the crowd roar, I could hear someone saying,
"Oh look how beautiful Earline is. She has such poise and talent".
Another answered,
"She will probably march in Alabama's Million Dollar Band if she passes algebra".
Gulp!
I planned to march in the Joe Cain parade at Mardi Gras in Mobile or the parade of Rex in New Orleans, it didn't matter.
I was going to stop hearts.
I needed to learn twirling, I knew how to strut.....I had strutting down pat.
So, I chopped off the handle of our barn broom.
Big mistake, Daddy gave me a choice.
I paid the price.
Twirling practice was way too important to mess around with pulling weeds to earn a new barn broom.
I saved up three emptied oatmeal boxes of Quaker's Best.
I started twirling practice in the back yard under the old china berry tree. Immediately I had to move out to the side yard as my flung up baton got wedged in the limbs of the tree.
" Dangit ".
Bother!
I could chunk that broomstick. Y'all shoulda seen that.
Days of hard practice gave me bruised elbows, shinbones, nose bleeds, noggin knots, but I was getting good in my twirling and flipping that broomstick.
Mama was pained with all her calling for me to finish my chores.
Daddy didn't think my plans for wearing skirts above my knees was in the cards.
Earnest's girls didn't show skin.
I would get that figured out between this, my six grade year at Wallace and tenth grade year at W. S. Neal.
I was sure in my mind I would be accepted as a majorette without ever having to join the band, play an instrument or even try out for the position.
I had great self confidence....................tucked away in my heart.
So, then I made a beautiful majorette hat with one of the oatmeal boxes that I covered with Christmas wrapping paper. I added a chin strap using a piece of stolen elastic from Mama's sewing box. I pushed out the ends of those boxes to push/pull the cardboard cylinders over my feet and heels to make my boots. I made tassels from a wad of crochet thread...........gold.
My feet sticking out showing all ten toes made my boots unique looking.
I tucked my dresstail into my bloomers so as to show my skinny white legs and allow my twirling and strutting.
My oatmeal box boots scrubbed off the backs of my heels, that broomstick baton beat the daylights out of me, my tassels fell off my boots and hat.
Daddy needed to use my broomstick baton to stob down sweet potato draws...........................
My Daddy could mess up a bad day.
In Jr, High, I got to see Katy Crenshaw and Shorty Weaver strut onto the field during half time as the Eagles band played and I swooned at all that pomp and circumstance.
Those majorettes were beautiful.
My twirlling practice took a toll on broomsticks and elbows,
but,
I finally earned my student status at W. S. Neal and watched as my friend Frogene Normand strutted her stuff on the field and in Homecoming parades.
Frogene was a Wildfork beauty and a Wallace alumni.
"She can do it, I can do it".
Juanita Beasley strutted and twirled on the most beautiful legs this side of the Miss America pageant.
Jean Weaver, Shorty's little sister ask me to spend the night with her for some social reason and actually let me try on her hat and uniform.
Lawdhamercy, I would have been best in show if my number 10 feet had fit into her size 5 boots.
My opinion.
Majorettes cannot lead the band while wearing brown penny loafers.
Dreams die hard.
Sigh!
