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Mary Jane And Me

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The Tampa Tribune

Published: December 31, 2008

In church on Sunday, before the service started, I observed a young girl between 10 and 12 years old walking up and down the aisle, greeting people with the aplomb of a 40 year old.

"Well, hello there. Of course, I remember you. How are you, Mr. Smith?" Being in church in Sun City Center, she must have been someone's granddaughter. Her glib, yet courteous and appropriate greetings to various worshippers were astounding to me because, remembering myself at that age, "aplomb," "glib," and "courteous" were not words that would have applied.

During my pre-teen years, wanting to fit in but not knowing how, I spent a lot of time watching other more successful children and adults and trying to emulate them. Don't ask me why, but as a young girl, I started reading Dr. Crane's column in the Indianapolis Star, and read it with great regularity.

As I recall, he gave lots of advice to benefit the reader, medically and socially. One of his favorite subjects was how to be a good conversationalist. It seemed he discussed that subject a lot. As a shy girl, I hung on his every word, and I do believe, if I have any strengths, being a good conversationalist is one of them. I can strike up a conversation with a wall, thanks to Dr. Crane. He had a little acronym to help us remember what to talk about with others. I can't (of course!) remember the acronym, but I do remember his emphasis was on asking the other person a lot of questions about him or her self. I came out of my shell, and "Nosy Rosie" emerged.

In my high school years, therefore, I was not shy but I was...well, weird. As a teenager, I looked older than my age. Part of the reason I looked older was the way I dressed. In fact, looking through photo albums, I've often asked my 90-year-old mother why she let me out of the house looking the way I did.

My across-the-street neighbor, Mary Jane, and I were long-time friends. Although she was two years younger than I, she also looked older than her years. During early teen years, on a Saturday, we would put on our prettiest dresses and complete the outfits with hats, gloves, handbags and matching high-heeled shoes. I think the hats even had netting that came over our faces. We thought we looked great and the height of sophistication. Looking ridiculous never crossed our minds. And it also never crossed our minds about the incongruity of dressing up to the "nines" and then taking the bus to downtown Indianapolis, which we often did.

Once downtown, we knew exactly what we were going to do. We descended the stairs into the elegant King Cole Restaurant to have lunch. All eyes would be on us. Mary Jane and I were sure it was because we looked so good. Now I know it was because we looked as out of place as an evening gown at a football game.

We never ate dessert at King Cole. Instead, we saved room for either raspberry-pecan sherbet or a hot fudge sundae with salty nuts at Craig's Ice Cream Shoppe. So after trooping to Craig's, sitting on a counter stool in our fancy outfits and consuming lots of calories, we would then get our exercise - shopping all afternoon at Ayres' or Block's department stores.

No, as young girls, even as teenagers, Mary Jane and I weren't sophisticated as was the young gal in church Sunday. I'm really hoping, though, she's having as much fun in her youth as we did.

Rosie Clifton is the author of "Kissing Lots of Frogs, a Long Journey to Love." She may be reached through her Web site at rosieclifton.com.

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